To See The Daises ... First (14 page)

***

Through the dusty glass panes that framed the huge wooden front door, Ben watched the cab pull away, then turned and walked slowly up the stairs.

Outside his apartment, he hesitated, reluctant to enter the empty rooms. After a moment, he drew a deep, raspy breath and pushed open the door, leaving it ajar behind him to escape the claustrophobic loneliness. She was gone. The vital essence of her had disappeared, leaving sad, old furniture in sad, old rooms.

Dropping onto a chair, he bent forward as his trembling hands came up to cover his face.

Sometime in the next half hour he became aware of a nervous little tug on his sleeve. Glancing up wearily, he found Mary Louise standing beside him, her plain, square face made plainer by grief. Pulling her into his lap, he rocked her silently, and they sat together as the morning passed, each finding comfort in sharing the pain of loving.

***

Sunny saw the house long before the cab reached it. The street entered the property from the rear and swung around in a wide circle to reach the front entrance. There was nothing modern or streamlined about the house. It was old and dignified. Standing haughtily on a rise, it overlooked manicured lawns and a silver blue lake. As Sunny stared silently, she could almost see ladies in wide skirts carrying parasols as they strolled, while violins played "Humoresque" in the background.

When the cab stopped in front of the wide-columned portico, she sat still, oblivious to the expectant stares of the driver. Then suddenly, the double front doors opened and a man strode out, his steps urgent, only to hesitate as he reached the top step.

Was this her father? He wasn't tall as she had somehow imagined him to be. He was below average height, not stout, but solidly built, and his face had the comfortable wrinkles of age, his hair an attractive salt and pepper. Opening the door, she stepped out and walked slowly up the wide stone stairs. When she stood on the step below the man, she murmured, "The cab ... I don't have any—"

Before she could finish her sentence, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. "Chelsea . . . Chelsea," he murmured over and over. After a moment he seemed to gain control over his emotions and inhaled deeply before turning to look over his shoulder. "Henry, give the man his money, please."

Sunny turned her startled glance to find another man on the steps between them and the front door. He was tall and gray-haired and wore a white jacket. As he moved toward the waiting cab, the man who was her fattier added, "And give him a tip—a large tip, Henry."

"Who's he?" she whispered in awe.

He laughed—a deep, rumbling sound—and placed an arm across her shoulders, urging her into the house. "He's the butler," he whispered back. "But don't let him intimidate you. He's really a bowl of mush underneath all that spit and polish." He paused, turning to stare down at her. "He missed you—he missed you so much." His voice had an intense, pained quality to it.

She felt at a loss for words. This man needed something from her, something she didn't know if she could give him.

"Ben—" Saying the name brought a shaft of pain to her heart and it was a moment before she could continue. "Ben told you that I don't remember anything?"

"Yes, he told me." He ushered her into a large sitting room. "It will take time, sweetheart, but it will all come back to you. You'll see." He pulled her down to sit beside him on the sofa. "I know it's going to take time for you to adjust, but well just have to be patient. That's why I wouldn't let the police come to question you today." At her questioning look, he said, "Your friend didn't tell you about it?"

She shook her head. Ben had told her too much and nothing.

"Well, in his words, his friend Charlie was 'sitting on' the man who attacked you until Ben could get you home. I imagine the police have him by now and they'll need you to identify him." He stopped her whens he started to protest. "Not for the kidnapping. I've explained that you don't remember that, but they can charge him with assault until they get more evidence." He patted her cold hand. "Don't worry about it. If you don't feel up to it by tomorrow, then well work something else out." He paused and stared at her curiously. "Your friend Ben seems very capable."

She pressed her lips together tightly to keep them from trembling and said nothing.

"Maybe someday you'd like to tell me about it?" he said gently.

She closed her eyes, nodding slowly. "Maybe someday." Blinking her eyes to clear them, she glanced up and saw compassion etched in his face. "Were we . . . close before?"

Leaning back, he sighed heavily. "I wish I could say yes, but it would be a lie. No, we weren't close, and I'm using the past tense, Chelsea, because that's going to change. This time will be different."

"Yes," she said, feeling sympathy, but nothing else for him. "I'm sure it will be." Standing to fill an uncomfortable silence, she walked to the windows that covered one side of the room. "Do all the windows and doors go clear up to the ceiling?"

He laughed. "Only downstairs. Upstairs we have normal size doors. These are to impress guests."

She stood, silently staring out the window. Then she heard him clear his throat nervously. "Chelsea, I'm afraid we're going to have a visitor you're not quite ready to receive. Max called and insisted on coming over."

"Max?"

"Your last fiance," he explained. "I thought he was an ex, but he tells me you were reconciled."

"Oh..." She swung around suddenly. "Father— did I call you Father?"

"I have a feeling you called me unrepeatable names more often than not, but to my face you usually called me Dad."

She nodded, absorbing the information. "Dad's much nicer, but it doesn't seem to go with the house," she said wryly. "Dad, was there any particular reason why I felt it necessary to have six fiances?"

"A very good reason," he said. "You were bored stiff."

"Bored? But I'm never bored."

He laughed. "I gather your life has been pretty exciting recently."

Exciting? In a way, but a better description would be breathtakingly beautiful. She turned back to the window as the memory of Ben filled her mind. What was he doing now? Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Did he miss her at all?

She jumped nervously when she heard the crash of the heavy brass knocker striking the front door, then the sound of voices in the hall. This must be the ex-fiance who was so insistent. She stiffened her back. Was this the man who haunted her dreams? Would she see the accusation, the pain in the eyes of a flesh-and-blood man?

"Hello, Max," she heard her father say. "As you can see, Chelsea is home."

Ben, where are you? I need you now. Drawing in a shaky breath, she turned to face her nightmare.

Only it wasn't him. This man was dark and slim and—blessedly—a stranger. She let out a sigh of relief and gave the two men a dazzling smile of relief. "You must be Max," she said, walking forward to extend her hand. "Dad tells me we renewed our engagement before—before my accident."

"Yes, that's right." He held her hand and stood staring at her with a curious, narrow-eyed intensity. "It was all just a silly misunderstanding."

He was tying. The lie was clear in his eyes, but Sunny said nothing. She merely smiled. "I'm sure it was," she said affably. "But I know you'll understand if I ask that we shelve our engagement until my memory returns."

"But—" he began to protest.

"Dad, I think I'd like to go to my room now. I'm a little tired."

She saw the concern in her father's eyes and, for a moment, was ashamed of herself for lying, but she needed to get away, to think.

"Of course, sweetheart. I'll—"

"I'll take her up, Ray," Max said. "After all, I know the way well enough."

The insinuation was clear and again she felt it was a lie. Please God, let it be a lie. To have slept with this man would be a sacrilege after her night with Ben.

"No, Max," her father said firmly. "I'll take her up. There are some things I need to talk to Chelsea about" He extended his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "It was nice of you to drop by."

Before Max could protest further, her father put his arm protectively around her shoulder and began walking toward the door that led into the hall.

"Henry," he said as they passed the somber man in the hall. "Show Mr. Shielding out."

"What did you want to talk to me about?" she asked as they walked up the curved staircase.

"I wanted to tell you that the geraniums are doing nicely this year," he said, his face straight, but his eyes twinkling.

"Why, you're nice," she said in surprise. She had been so busy fighting against the return, she had completely missed the fact that he was a very likeable man. "He was lying, you know," she said softly.

"You remember?"

"No." She glanced at him. "I just know."

"I'm glad," he murmured huskily. "And I'm glad you think I'm nice. I hope you continue to think so." He closed his eyes briefly. "Because I won't make the same mistake twice." For a moment she saw grief clouding his brown eyes; then he shook it away and opened a door for her.

"This is your room."

She looked around at the expensive, feminine room. It was beautiful. Everything a woman could want, she told herself. Then why did she wish it were old and shabby and filled with tacky furniture? Her eyes slid around the elegance, then suddenly stopped, becoming fixed on a portrait that hung opposite the bed.

It was the face of the man in her dreams.

Ten

Ben swung his car through the opening in the brick wall and almost immediately felt the cooling breeze off the lake that sparkled in the distance. It seemed that the very wealthy of the world could even buy the weather. The rest of Houston was sweltering under a late heat wave, but here, behind the high wall, it was cool and green.

The house, situated as it was on a low, sloping hill, didn't Intimidate him as it should have. It merely made him more determined. A man could act like a stupid fool for only so long before coming to his senses. And three days was long enough. Three days was an eternity.

Pulling up in front of the imposing front entrance, he switched off the engine; then, when It refused to die, he shoved it into drive and turned the key again. This time it fell gratifyingly silent. He stepped out of the car, wiping perspiring hands on the back of his faded jeans.

He hesitated for only a fraction of a second, then squared his shoulders and swung up the steps to the huge double doors. Glancing at the duo of gleaming brass lions' heads, he bypassed them to knock on the door in the conventional way, then shoved his hands in his back pockets while he waited.

The man who opened the door was tall and slender, his gray hair and white coat giving him a distant, old-world dignity. He stood regally silent, apparently waiting for Ben to state the purpose of his visit.

"Obstacle number one," Ben muttered under his breath, then said firmly, "I've come to see Miss Barron."

"Is Miss Chelsea expecting you, sir?"

Ben's eyes narrowed warily, his lips thinning. This man knew perfectly well Sunny wasn't expecting him. It was obvious in his attitude. But Ben hadn't come this far to give up so easily.

"She'll see me." He looked the man squarely in the eye, daring him to disprove his confident statement.

"And whom shall I say is calling?"

Ben had had enough. He would allow this superior guard dog one more question, then he would find her on his own. "You can tell her—"

"Ben!"

Sunny's cry pierced the air and Ben looked up to see her flying down the curving stairs toward him. Pushing the man aside with unintentional rudeness, he stepped into the huge entry hall just in time to catch her in his arms.

For a seemingly endless moment, no words were necessary. A world of need was transmitted between them in the urgency of their embrace. Ben held her in a crushing grip, letting the reality of her presence permeate his body. He could feel the emptiness of the past three days vanish into a painful memory as she locked her hands behind his neck and pressed into him with an equally desperate need.

"You changed your mind," she whispered at last, the words muffled against his chest.

"What mind?" Lifting his hands to frame her small face, he stared into clear blue eyes. "Sunny, I don't know if I was crazy to force you to leave or if I'm crazy to beg you to come back. I only know that it's been hell without you." He drew in a deep breath to steady his voice. "And so—will you come home, babe?"

She blinked her eyes rapidly to hold back the sudden rush of tears and said in a choked voice, "Yes . . . please."

He leaned his head down to rest his forehead against hers as he went weak with relief. It shouldn't have been this easy. He deserved more punishment for being so stupid. He deserved it, but by God, he was glad he didn't have to take any more.

"You must be Ben."

Ben jerked his head up, then turned in the direction of the voice. He found himself being examined by the inquisitive eyes of a man who, given the strong resemblance, could only be Sunny's father.

Turning to face him, Ben kept a possessive arm around Sunny's waist as he threw an equally inquisitive glance at the man who could turn out to be either friend or foe. "Yes, I am," he said, his voice firm. He couldn't afford to show deference, even to the man's age. Not until he knew how this man would react. "I've come to take your daughter home with me."

"Is that right?" Her father frowned as he considered the couple before him.

"Yes. I'm sorry if that upsets you—"

"Upset? My dear young man, you have my everlasting gratitude," he said, winking at Sunny. "I was beginning to think I was never going to get her off my hands. Such boring conversation—you can't imagine. I believe she has only one thought in her head."

Ben glanced at Sunny, to find her smiling in agreement. "I can't believe that, sir. I never found her boring."

"That's because when I was with you, I didn't have to talk about you," she murmured softly.

As he stared into her eyes, reading the desire and love that were plain to anyone but a blind fool, he leaned closer, drawn irresistibly toward her. It had been so long since he had touched her, tasted her . . .

Suddenly a slight shuffling noise reminded him of the presence of her father. Ben cleared his throat and smiled at her. "Hadn't you better go pack?"

Answering his smile, she nodded in the direction of the staircase. He followed her gesture with his eyes, then jerked them back to her in bewilderment when he saw three suitcases resting at the bottom of the stairs.

"I was coming back to convince you that you couldn't do without me."

Her voice was a husky whisper that made him wish desperately that they were alone. Tightening his hand on her waist, he fought the impulse to press her body to his. When he glanced away to try to bring his emotions under control, he found Mr. Barron watching with a strange mixture of sadness and delight.

Ben moved forward, extending his hand. "I guess well be going now, sir. It was nice meeting you."

"Call me Ray." He clasped Ben's hand firmly. "I hope you won't forget to invite me to the wedding. We were just getting to know each other and I don't want to lose touch." He paused and glanced at Sunny. "I find I like my new daughter very much."

"Wedding? But Dad, we haven't—" Sunny began.

"Of course, you're invited," Ben said, interrupting her. "We wouldn't think of leaving you out." He glanced down at Sunny, hiding a triumphant smile. "Ill take your bags to the car while you say goodbye."

The two of them spoke softly as Ben moved toward the suitcases. But before he could lift the first one, the still somber servant appeared magically to help. Minutes later Ben leaned against the car, waiting for Sunny to join him. When she and her father walked onto the porch, he tactfully glanced away as she touched her father's face gentry. There were tears in her eyes when she finally joined him, waving goodbye to the two men who stood watching as they drove away.

There was something in her silence that he didn't understand, and as they left the walled estate behind Ben glanced at her, searching her face for an explanation. "You can see him often— after all, he's in the same city." Not the same world, he added silently, but the same city.

"Yes, I know," she murmured. "I'm just afraid he'll be lonely. He's grown very dear to me in the last three days." She paused, looking out the window as though she wanted to avoid his eyes, then said quietly, "Ben, why did you change your mind?"

Something was different. In the short time they had been in the car a mood had fallen upon her that worried him. Did she regret coming with him already?

He stared straight ahead, fighting the tightness that was beginning to grow in his chest. When the silence drew out, he swallowed his fear and smiled as he shot a glance in her direction. "After you left, I sat down and took a good look at myself. I began to ask a few objective questions. Could a beautiful young woman care for a man who has a very muddled past and no clear future, who has a definite problem seeing the good and beautiful things in the world, and who can't bring himself to believe in them even when he does manage to see? Could a woman of taste and intelligence love a man like that?"

"And what was your answer?"

She was smiling now and the tension in his body eased. He shrugged in answer to her question. "My answer was—what's not to love?"

When she threw back her head and laughed, the sparkle returned to her eyes and for a moment he relaxed. Maybe it was going to be all right. Maybe they would make it.

Pulling over to the side of the road, he turned her toward him and hungrily examined her face. "It's daylight and I'm not weakened by having you in my bed. I want to say it now so you'll believe me." He stroked her cheek, feeling the silken warmth under his rough hand. "I love you, Sunny."

Her eyelids drifted down, but not before he had seen the quick sheen of tears. "Yes," she whispered. "Yes, I know."

She knew, but evidently the knowledge didn't make her happy. It had been tears of sadness and—incredibly—pain that he had seen in her beautiful eyes. Dear Lord, she couldn't pity him? Please God, not that.

He had only wanted a chance. A chance to give her something that could compete with the past when she remembered it. That was the decision he had reached during those three miserable days~. Once he had gotten past pain, anger, and self-pity, determination had taken over. He would make her feel so loved, so needed that nothing in her past could compare. He intended to become a habit that she couldn't break. And if the man in her dreams still loved her, he would have to fend for himself. Before she regained her memory, Sunny would be well and truly Ben's.