The Quiet Seduction Read online

  Sixteen. Storm tried to picture her at that age. She probably hadn’t been a knockout. Gawky, young for her age, probably shy. Some girls matured later than others. Odds were, she’d been a late bloomer.

  “No, I don’t remember.”

  And then his eyes narrowed. Either he was getting some mixed signals or he’d lost more than his memory. Ellen didn’t want to talk over old times with this guy. Didn’t want to talk about anything, if he was reading her correctly. She was getting antsy, and that wasn’t like the calm, capable woman he had come to know and admire.

  So he jumped into the conversation. “Did you hear about the twister that came through here last week? Any tear through your neighborhood?” It was a leading question. He wasn’t sure where he wanted it to lead. Out the front door, preferably.

  “I heard about it. The networks all covered it pretty thoroughly. I happened to be watching— Actually, I was out in San Diego at the time. The tennis match, you know? Looks like you got lucky here, El.”

  Ellen caught his eye, and Storm was amazed to see a slight smile tug at the corners of her mouth. “Indeed,” was all she said.

  Storm leaned back in the Boston rocker and sipped his coffee. Like cooking, he hadn’t stopped the first time to wonder whether or not he knew how to brew the stuff, he’d just done it. Damned good coffee, too, if he did say so.

  “Why don’t I unload the things your father sent and you can go through them at your leisure?” Sanders asked.

  “No.”

  “That’s it? You won’t reconsider? Ellen, the man is your father. He’s not getting any younger. Don’t you think—”

  “My father knows how I feel about his…his generosity. Maybe his new bride can play with the video games when she’s not shopping.”

  “Ouch,” Sanders said softly.

  Zinger, Storm thought admiringly.

  “You always did have a way with words. Well, I suppose I’d better be leaving. Dinner date—the mayor, a state senator, the usual suspects. You know how boring these things can be.”

  She did?

  The newcomer sent him a somewhat puzzled glance, which Storm returned with equanimity. “Haven’t we met before, Hale? The name doesn’t ring any bells, but I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere. Do you play golf?”

  Storm sat up and carefully placed his cup on a side table. “Not much time for golf lately, I’m afraid,” he said, implying that he might or might not have played in the past. Hell, how did he know whether or not he played golf? Put a club in his hand and maybe something would register.

  Sanders nodded. “I’m playing in that fund-raiser at the Lone Star Country Club. I do a lot of that sort of thing. Good business, you know. For some reason, you looked familiar, but then, you meet so many people.”

  “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

  “What did you say you did, Hale?”

  “Actually, I don’t believe I said, but I’m a writer. Fiction.”

  “Anything I might have read?”

  “I doubt it. I write romances.”

  Ellen choked on her coffee, and by the time she could speak again, Sanders was at the door. Having whacked her on the back a couple of times, Storm let his arm rest on her shoulder as they saw the visitor off. As she didn’t protest, he figured she needed all the support she could get.

  What he needed was answers. One way or another, he was going to have them.

  They watched the heavy black sedan drive off, scraping the tailpipe on some of the deeper ruts, then wordlessly, they turned back inside. Ellen collected the cups and spoons and placed them on the tray. Storm took the tray and headed for the kitchen. She followed him, frowning slightly.

  “That was…interesting,” he observed, returning the cream to the refrigerator.

  “Oh, go ahead and say it. He’s a shallow, pretentious jerk. He’s always been a shallow, pretentious jerk, probably always will be. And you’re wondering who he is and what he was doing here, and how on earth I ever came to know someone like him.”

  That wasn’t exactly what he was wondering, but it would do for a start. “He’s your father’s business associate, right? And you’ve known him ever since you were sixteen? That’s reason enough for him to look you up while he’s in the neighborhood.” He’d be willing to bet it wasn’t the whole story, though. The undercurrents would have defeated an Olympic-class swimmer.

  She forced a smile. “I haven’t seen Greg in— Goodness, it’s been almost twelve years.”

  Storm remained silent. A question now would be counterproductive, and for some reason he wanted to know more about the man, more about their relationship—their former relationship—and why the guy had turned up just now. On the surface it had been a simple friendly visit. He’d been in the neighborhood, hadn’t seen her in a long time. Perfectly natural for him to drop by. And incidentally, drop off a few gifts from her father.

  But if he was a business associate of her father’s, why hadn’t they seen each other in years? Why was it she couldn’t afford to replace rotten fence posts or hire someone to do a few simple repairs around the house, while her father’s associate dined with politicians and drove a late-model luxury sedan.

  Why did she refuse to even look at whatever it was her father had sent? Something more than a few toys, he suspected.

  She reached for the coffeepot, poured herself another half cup and spooned in more sugar. “You’re probably wondering about a few things.”

  “You could say I’m mildly curious.”

  “I could tell you it was none of your business, too, but—”

  “But rudeness isn’t your style.”

  Looking up, she smiled, but the smile didn’t quite make it as far as her eyes. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I don’t have a style. I’m sorry if Greg made you uncomfortable. Maybe you should have told him about your amnesia and questioned him, since he seemed to recognize you.”

  “Funny thing—and don’t ask me how I know this—but there are some people I’d as soon not be recognized by, if you’ll forgive the terminal preposition.”

  Ellen had known for days that she’d have to tell him. She’d been waiting for an opening, for a good time. There was no good time, and this was as close to an opening as she was likely to have. “Storm, there’s something you need to know.”

  And so she told him. After describing both men and repeating verbatim everything that had been said—she’d gone over it so many times in her mind that remembering was no problem—she waited for him to explode.

  “Harrison,” he said after a long silence. “J. S. Harrison, as in Jason Spencer Harrison.”

  Leaning forward, Ellen nearly knocked over her coffee cup. “You remember? Oh, Storm.”

  His expression was one of resignation more than defeat. “Sorry. I’ve gone all through the phone book. There are at least a dozen Harrisons, some with J, some with S—even one with both. Turned out to be a lady named Janet Shaw Harrison. Retired schoolteacher. I lied and said I’d like her honest opinion about the local schools, and she gave me an earful.”

  “Oh, Lord.” Ellen lowered her face to her hands and snickered.

  “Look, I could call and ask each one if they’re missing a relative, but until I can put all the pieces together, I don’t think that’s particularly wise.”

  “But if you’re the missing district attorney—”

  “Ellen, listen to me. Not to put too fine a point on it, but from the way you described that pair that showed up here looking for me—for someone, at any rate—odds are they weren’t exactly selling Girl Scout cookies. All along, I’ve had a strong feeling of…I don’t know, of something.” He broke off and swore softly in exasperation. “The state prison. Something to do with the state pen. Until I find out which side of the bars I belong on, I don’t think it’s smart to advertise my presence, so if you’re asking for absolution, you’ve got it. You might even have saved my neck.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, you’re not a crook. I’ve lived with you long enough
to know you’re a good man, a decent man. Personally, I think you’re that missing D. A. It’s just too big a coincidence—the initials and everything. As for the other J. S. Harrison, you’d probably have an unlisted number if you really were the district attorney. But whatever else is going on in your life right now, you’re certainly no friend of that pair who came looking for you.”

  “In that case, why were they looking for me?”

  She shook her head.

  “Okay, I’ll give you three choices. One, you’re wrong about my identity and they’re really friends of mine. Or two, they’re on the run, and they were looking to steal a car.”

  “Oh, hush up, that doesn’t even make sense! They already had a car.”

  “Too easy to identify. Look, if you’re right and they’re the bad guys and I’m the good guy, why would they come looking for me? Seems to me, even with my impaired sensibilities, they’d be running hard in the opposite direction. The border’s just a hop, skip and a jump from here.”

  They were both silent as his words sank in. Ellen said, “What’s the third choice?”

  “More of an option than a choice. Until I get this mess figured out, I’d like to stay here, if it’s all the same to you. Whoever I am, whatever I’m mixed up in, I have a strong feeling that making a sudden public appearance might set off a chain reaction I’m not ready to deal with.”

  Great choice, he thought bitterly, sponging off a woman who was too short of money and too long on pride.

  “Of course you’re going to stay here. I can’t let you leave until—well, until you know where you’re going.”

  Not to mention a few other bits of vital information. “Thank you. Then if you don’t mind, we’ll go on the same way we have been, with you and Pete and that worthless pair of barn rats doing all the heavy lifting while good old Storm makes a mess of trying to keep house and do the cooking.”

  “Oh, but you don’t have to—”

  “Do we have a deal?”

  “I suppose so.” And then, green eyes snapping, she added, “Of course we have a deal!”

  “Good. Now, back to your old friend Greg. I had the distinct impression you weren’t too happy to see him. Anything you’d like to share?”

  “Not really. At least nothing I can’t handle.”

  He waited, then drawled softly, “Right. Like you handled Booker.”

  She twiddled with the coffee spoon, not meeting his eyes, which wasn’t like her, so he waited a couple more beats. He’d discovered that it was an effective tactic.

  “What makes you think I wasn’t glad to see him?”

  “You weren’t exactly rolling out the Welcome mat. The man came bearing gifts, yet I’m the one who had to invite him inside for refreshments.”

  “I was…surprised, that’s all.”

  “That’s not all, Ellen, but you’re right—it’s none of my business. Point conceded.”

  She managed to smile, looking closer to tears than amusement. Or maybe he was reading too much into nothing. That was the trouble with straining to read a blank slate, you were apt to read all sorts of mysterious implications in a scratch or a flyspeck.

  “Look, my father and I are…estranged. And if you must know, Greg’s the man I was supposed to marry.”

  His spoon clattered into the saucer. “What? You were engaged to that…that stuffed shirt?”

  This time her smile was genuine. “Actually, we never quite got that far. I was supposed to graduate first, at which time my family would announce the engagement with proper fanfare. Then, after a suitable period, we were to marry. A small exclusive wedding, no more than three or four hundred carefully selected guests, followed by a couple of weeks in Bermuda or maybe Paris. After that, Greg would be made a full partner and I would take my place among Austin’s young married set, with all that entailed.”

  An edge of bitterness colored her voice. He’d heard weariness before—weariness, suspicion, tenderness and amusement. The bitterness was new. He didn’t like it.

  “But then I ruined everything by not following the rules,” she said with a whimsical little half smile that tore something inside him.

  “I take it you met someone else. Jake?”

  Ellen turned her cup in her hands. Callused hands, the short nails clean but unpolished. He waited. Sometimes you had to prime the pump, sometimes you didn’t. It all depended on how much pressure had built up.

  “You have to understand how it was. Daddy wasn’t always so paranoid, but after the son of one of his closest friends was kidnapped and held for ransom, my freedom was cut off like you wouldn’t believe. No more tooling around town in my own car, I had to be driven everywhere. To the mall, to the club—even to the dentist.”

  Her soft bleat of laughter held little amusement. “Know what? I discovered a talent I didn’t even know I possessed. I got to be an expert on slipping my leash. It never once occurred to Daddy that I might not obey his rules, which only proves he didn’t know me at all.”

  She fell silent, and it was all Storm could do not to lead with a question. A few moments later she continued. “But then, I didn’t know him very well, either. After my mother died, he waited less than six months to start dating again. If you can call it dating. It was more like he’d take these trips, you know? I was never invited, not that I’d have gone—I mean, what girl needs to watch her father make out? Still, it would’ve been nice to be asked. They usually started with Paris. All Daddy’s girlfriends liked to shop there.”

  Storm let the words flow over him and found to his surprise that he was able to visualize a lot of what she described. Not that he thought he’d had an overprotective father. Hell, he didn’t know if he’d had one at all, other than biologically.

  He learned more about Jake—about the man in the snapshot she had framed and placed on her mantel. And yeah, he thought again that he would have liked him, although they probably wouldn’t have had much in common.

  Except for Ellen. Except for a taste for women whose subtle, understated beauty would long outlast the high-maintenance kind that probably appealed to jerks like Greg Sanders.

  “Looking back, I’m pretty sure the only reason Greg agreed to get engaged to me was because he wanted that partnership. I guess I sensed it even then. He and Daddy had pretty much the same kind of taste when it came to women. Young, blond, gorgeous and sophisticated, all of which I was not. Except for young, I suppose. Too young in some ways.”

  “Did you resent it? Your father’s other women, I mean?”

  After a few seconds she said, “You know, I’m not sure. We were never close, but I suppose I’d have resented any woman taking my mother’s place, even though I can hardly even remember her. If you mean did I resent Greg’s women, I honestly don’t know. I knew he was seeing others even when we were about to become engaged. I guess if it had really bothered me I’d have tried to do something about it.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, what woman doesn’t want to be beautiful?” Her smile was droll, self-deprecating. “The trouble is, bleached hair takes too much maintenance and I’m afraid of the knife, so plastic surgery was out. I’m stuck with plain brown hair, a nose that’s too short and a mouth that’s too big. Not to mention the lack of a few strategic implants.”

  “Oh, lady, you underestimate yourself,” he said softly, and she wrinkled her nose at him.

  Tilting back her chair, she exhaled as if sharing the load had relieved some of the pressure that had built up inside her. It occurred to him that every woman needed one close friend to talk to, to share with, to confide in. He had to wonder if there was anyone like that for Ellen.

  “I take it you and your father haven’t yet buried the hatchet?”

  “The last time I saw my father was nearly ten years ago. I read about him occasionally, but we don’t really communicate.” She fell silent.

  He watched her for a while, and then said, “Ellen?”

  “It’s almost time for the schoolbus. I’d better—”


  She started to rise, but Storm blocked her way. Gripping her shoulders, he said, “Ellen, I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry.”

  Her eyes were suddenly too bright. “Why? It’s hardly your fault.”

  “No, it’s not, but I’m sorry all the same. Can’t friends empathize?”

  “Friends,” she said, and then the dam broke. The tip of her nose turned red, her eyes overflowed, and by the time the first sob escaped, his arms were around her and he was holding her, rocking her gently from side to side, murmuring wordless sounds meant to comfort, to soothe.

  He had a feeling it wouldn’t last long, her need for comfort. All too soon she’d be back to worrying about things like fence posts and bank balances, and roofs with shingles that were beginning to curl. And gifts from her wealthy father that pride alone would not permit her to accept.

  His chin brushed against her silky hair. His body responded with embarrassing enthusiasm. He wondered if she’d thought as much about sex as he had over the past few days…and nights. Had she taken a lover since she’d become a widow?

  He told himself that holding her was enough, feeling the warmth and strength of her body, her arms clinging to his waist. But this time it wasn’t going to work. His lips brushed her cheek and the tip of her ear, and she turned her face ever so slightly so that her eyelashes brushed against his lips. Every cell in his body went immediately to standby alert.

  Did she feel it, too? Was she ready for more than simple comfort? More than friendship? Could she possibly be seeking what he was so eager to offer?

  The sound of footsteps pounded up the front steps. The door clattered against the wall as Pete came bursting inside. “Hey, guess what?” he yelled, shedding his coat on the floor, slinging his books in the general direction of the hall table. “I passed my—”

  And then he was standing in the kitchen doorway. “Mom? What’s wrong?”

  Six

  They were working together in the barn, finishing up the stalls and leading the horses inside. Pete continued to cast Storm questioning looks from time to time, but at least the boy was no longer scowling.