The Courtship of Dani Read online

  The hand at Jason's nape clenched painfully, and the one at his side knotted into a tight fist.

  "Damn."

  When Dani arrived home that evening the first thing she saw when she stepped off the elevator was Chad— propped against her door, his thumbs hooked in the pockets of his jeans, one foot crossed indolently over the other. He was whistling softly, but when he saw Dani he broke off and smiled, straightening away from the door.

  "Hi, sis."

  Dani gave him a dry look, amused cynicism crooking one corner of her mouth. "Hi, yourself. I wondered how long it would be before you showed up."

  She inserted her key and pushed the door open. Chad sauntered inside and as usual headed straight for the kitchen. With a sigh Dani closed the door and followed, detouring on the way to her desk to deposit her mail and check the answering machine.

  When she entered the kitchen she found Chad bent over in front of the open refrigerator. "Good grief! A mouse would starve to death in this house. All you've got in here is cheese and bread, some wine and bacon and eggs."

  "I returned your call yesterday, but Dad said you were out," Dani said, ignoring his complaint.

  "Yeah. I went up to Lake Conroe with some of the guys. Tom's folks have a houseboat up there and they let us use it." He backed out of the refrigerator holding a round of cheese, and started rummaging through the cabinets, pulling out bread and chips and anything else that caught his eye. "Got any peanut butter? I'm starved."

  "Aren't you always?" Dani ruffled his curly brown hair then reached around him and pulled out the enormous jar she kept just for him. "You must have a hollow leg."

  He flashed her a grin, his hazel eyes twinkling, and began to spread peanut butter on a slice of bread. "I'm just a growing boy."

  "God forbid," Dani muttered, surveying his gangly six-foot-two frame. She grimaced when he piled a slice of cheese and a dill pickle on top of the peanut butter and looked away as he bit into the nauseous combination. At twenty, Chad still had the cast-iron stomach and bizarre tastes of an adolescent. "So what did you want to talk to me about?"

  "When I called?" Chad hitched himself onto a high bar stool and hooked his boot heels on the lower rung, his long skinny legs sticking out like bent broom straws. He popped the tab off a soft drink can and took a long swig. "Oh, I just wanted to borrow your wheels to drive up to Conroe, but when I didn't hear from you I bummed a ride with Jerry," he replied vaguely, studying his sandwich for the best spot to launch another attack.

  "And to what do I owe this visit today?"

  "Mmmm, Mom wanted me to tell you that she's planning a family get-together next week," he said around a mouthful of food. "She wants you to come if you can."

  "She couldn't call me and ask herself?"

  "She did, but she got your answering machine and hung up. You know how Mom is. That thing makes her tongue-tied. She knew I was coming over so she asked me to tell you."

  "I see." And Dani was very much afraid that she did. Sophie Edwards talked daily to Charlene, Chad's twin, as a matter of course, but she called Dani only when she had to, and then it was a duty call, or, like this time, an occasional invitation. Dani tried to tell herself it didn't matter, that it was only natural to love your own child more than an adopted one, but it still hurt when she let herself think about it. "Well, tell her I'll be happy to come and I'll call her later in the week about it."

  "Sure." Chad downed the last of the sandwich, polished off the cola in one long swallow, and slid off the stool. "Well, I gotta run. I need to hit the books. Got a biology exam tomorrow."

  Dani followed him out of the kitchen, surprised, and faintly pleased. "You mean that's it? That's all you came by for?"

  "Sure. Well, that is.. .there is this one other little matter," he amended as he reached the door. "You see, the thing is, I'm broke, and I've got a date with this really great-looking chick next weekend and—"

  "How much do you need?" Dani asked wryly, stifling the absurd feeling of disappointment that pressed at her chest. Don't be a fool. You didn't honestly think he had just dropped by to see you, did you?

  Chad grinned devilishly. "How much can you spare?"

  She gave him thirty dollars, and he gave her a peck on the cheek.

  When Dani closed the door behind him the apartment seemed silent and empty, and there was a strange little ache in her chest. "Thanks, little brother. That was just what I needed to top off a perfectly rotten day," she murmured dejectedly as she wandered into the bedroom, absently stripping off her clothes.

  Chad's presence had temporarily banished her earlier anger, but the words had no sooner left her mouth than it returned full force. With jerky movements Dani hung up her dress, stepped out of her shoes and peeled off her panty hose. Every time she thought about that interview with Jason St. Clair she felt as though she were about to splinter apart.

  The man is an arrogant, opinionated, small-minded fool, she told herself icily. You're lucky not to have to work with him.

  All day she had told herself the same thing, but it did nothing to alleviate her icy rage. Dani made a frustrated sound, stalked across to the antique four-poster and flung herself across the wide expanse. She lay on her back, arms extended, fingers unconsciously clawing at the candlewick bedspread. Her pink satin slip flowed lovingly over her curves, its smooth surface glowing with the rosy pearlescence of a summer sunrise.

  Lord, how she hated—hated—being dismissed. And all because of that spineless parasite, Lewis!

  And Frank. By all means, she told herself with a small bitter laugh. Let's not forget Frank's part in all this.

  But at least, if nothing else, today's fiasco accomplished one thing; she had gotten rid of Lewis. A small, satisfied smile curved Dani's mouth as she recalled the ultimatum she had given Frank when he joined her in the car after leaving Jason St. Clair's office. He had not been at all pleased with that.

  "Call him off," she'd said flatly the moment Frank slid behind the wheel of his Mercedes-Benz.

  Frank swung his head around and looked at her warily. She was sitting ramrod straight in the plush seat, staring straight ahead, her face as expressionless as marble. "Who?" he asked cautiously.

  Turning her head part way, Dani slanted him a scornful look. Her blue eyes stabbed into him like shards of ice. "You know who. Lewis. Your precious son." Sheepishly Frank looked away, and Dani's mouth twitched in a cool little half-smile. "Ahh, I see you know what I'm referring to. Well, listen to me, Frank, because I'm only going to say this once. Tell your son to give it up. To leave me alone. Because if he doesn't, I'll be forced to find other employment."

  "Dani, I—"

  "I mean it, Frank. I won't be put through another embarrassing scene like the one I just endured. Nor will I lose clients because of this crazy pipe dream of yours. Just in case I'm not making myself clear, let me spell it out for you. I will not, under any circumstances, marry Lewis."

  Frank's shoulders slumped. "Ah, Dani, why not? You would be getting a handsome, charming, rich husband, and when the time came, I'd see to it that the running of the company was left strictly in your hands." He lifted his brows and looked at her pleadingly. "Would it really be so bad?"

  "In a word—yes."

  Remembering the defeated look on Frank's face, Dani's smile faded. She regretted having to squash his hopes so bluntly, but patience and subtlety had gotten her nowhere, and enough was enough.

  Dani was relieved to be rid of Lewis but the resentment and anger she felt toward Jason St. Clair was by far the stronger emotion. As she lay there staring at the ceiling, she remembered clearly his sneering remarks and the hateful dismissive way he had looked at her, and she felt a strong desire to hurl something.

  Alarmed, Dani sprang off the bed and stomped toward the bathroom. Just forget him. Put the whole incident out of your mind, she told herself as she shimmied out of the satin slip and tossed it into the hamper. It's not important, so just pretend it never happened.

  But that was a lot easier
to say than to do. At work Dani spent the rest of the week closeted with Roger while he brought her up-to-date on his current project. She focused all her energies on the new assignment, approaching it with her usual thoroughness and concentration, asking probing questions, listening attentively, taking notes and going over all the data Roger had already gathered. She put in long hours at the office and still more at home and dropped into bed every night bone weary. But still she seethed.

  By Friday she was fed up and thoroughly irritated with herself. When her dearest friend, Phil Lathrope, called and asked her to dinner, she reacted as though he'd thrown her a lifeline.

  "I'd love to," she said, almost before he got the words out of his mouth, drawing a chuckle from Phil.

  "Bad day, love?"

  "Try bad week."

  "Well, before you make any hasty decisions, I feel it's only fair to warn you we'll be joining some friends of mine."

  "Fine. The more the merrier. I just want to relax and forget about work for a while." Work, and everything associated with it, she amended silently. Most especially Jason St. Clair.

  "Great. I'll pick you up at eight."

  Dani left the office early, allowing herself plenty of time to indulge in a long, hot soak, a shampoo and a fresh manicure. By the time she opened the door to Phil she was dressed in a stunning pale-blue lace creation, with long, fitted sleeves, a swirling calf-length skirt and no back. Diamond teardrops swung from her earlobes and a matching stone, suspended from a delicate gold chain, rested against the top of her lace covered breasts. Her shining sable hair, pulled back on one side and held by a diamond clip, cascaded around her shoulders.

  Phil just stood and gazed appreciatively for a moment. "As usual, you look gorgeous," he said quietly, a debonair smile growing on his face as his eyes swept over her from the strappy pale-blue sandals on her feet to the glorious mane of hair.

  "Thanks." Dani stepped back and motioned him in. "Make yourself at home while I get my things."

  When she returned a few minutes later with her purse and a light cashmere stole, Phil was standing by her cherry-wood block-front chest, his slender, elegant hand running back and forth over its smooth surface, his expression thoughtful.

  "Oh no you don't," Dani said with mock severity. "You're not getting that chest back. I don't care if you do have a rich buyer looking for one just like it. It's mine and I'm not parting with it."

  Phil turned his head and gave her a calculating look, his hazel eyes glinting. "As a matter of fact..." he began, only to have Dani cut him off.

  "Forget it, friend."

  "Just kidding," Phil assured her with a laugh. "Anyway, would I do that to you? I know how much you love your treasures."

  Dani smiled. Yes, Phil knew her passion for antiques better than anyone, since he was the one who had introduced her to them. They had met over six years ago when, inexplicably drawn by the lady's desk in the window, she had entered his very exclusive, very expensive antique gallery. She had been instantly captivated by the beauty and timeless elegance of the old pieces, and Phil had been quick to encourage her interest. The meeting had marked the beginning of a deep, comfortable friendship and Dani's abiding love for things from the past.

  "Actually," Phil said in a ruminating voice, "I was thinking that you might be interested in the piecrust table I got in today. It's of the same period and in excellent shape."

  Dani groaned. "Why do you tempt me like that, you beast. You know that now I'll have to see it. And if I see it I'll have to have it, even though I said I wasn't going to buy anything else for a while."

  An indulgent smile wreathed Phil's thin, aristocratic features. "If I didn't tell you about the new pieces I get in you'd have a fit, and you know it. Anyway, I like the best ones to go to someone who has a special affinity for them."

  Dani ran her fingertips lovingly over the smooth surface of the cherry-wood chest and smiled. Yes, she had an attachment to antiques that went far beyond a mere appreciation of beautiful things. Whenever she looked at the craftsmanship and the rich patina of age each piece bore, whenever she thought of the loving care they had to have been given over the years to have survived in such excellent condition, she pondered the countless lives they had borne witness to and wondered how many hands had touched them. It was strangely comforting, giving her a sense of kinship with all those former owners. A feeling of roots. Of permanence. Of belonging.

  "All right, you win. I'll be by tomorrow to look at the table." Smiling, Dani looped her arm through his and urged him toward the door. "Now, how about that dinner you promised me. I'm starved."

  During the drive downtown Dani relaxed, while Phil told her about an estate sale he had attended in England the week before. Idly, her eyes ran over his attractive profile, his dark hair with its precision cut, his nattily clad body, and she wondered, not for the first time, why there had never been anything of a romantic nature between them. They had common interests, they enjoyed each other's company and genuinely liked each other. Dani knew that if she ever needed him, for any reason, Phil would be there for her as she would be for him. They shared a deep affection yet there was no spark; they were simply the best of friends.

  "Who is it we're meeting?" Dani asked as they surrendered Phil's car to the parking attendant and walked into the posh restaurant.

  "My banker, Paul Haggerty, and his wife, and another couple whom I don't know."

  "Oh, I know Mr. Haggerty." Dani smiled up at him in pleased surprise. "He was a client of mine about three or four years ago. He's a very nice man."

  "Yes. Yes, he is," Phil agreed, giving her arm an approving pat.

  Phil gave the maitre d' the name of their party, and they followed the haughtily formal man through the dining room to where the other two couples were already seated. When Dani and Phil reached the table the men rose. ..and Dani's heart gave a little leap then settled heavily in her chest.

  The tall, gray-haired, distinguished-looking man was unmistakably Paul Haggerty. The other was Jason St. Clair.

  Chapter 3

  Dani's first instinctive reaction was to turn and run for the nearest exit—and for a fraction of a second, she actually considered it. But even as her body braced for flight, common sense returned. Don't be a fool, she admonished herself, tearing her gaze away from Jason and turning to the Haggertys with a wan smile. You would only embarrass Phil, and he certainly doesn't deserve that.

  "Ms. Edwards! What a nice surprise." Paul Hag-gerty pumped her hand exuberantly. "It's good to see you again."

  "It's nice to see you too, Mr. Haggerty," Dani somehow managed, acutely aware of the tall man on the opposite side of the table. She could actually feel those dark eyes on her. Her heart was booming and she felt horribly flustered, and it was only through sheer dint of will that she kept her expression calm.

  "Oh, please. Make it Paul." He grinned and clapped Phil on the back. "I didn't realize you knew this lovely lady, you sly devil you."

  "Danielle and I go way back," Phil told him with a complacent smile.

  Paul Haggerty introduced his wife, a plump, brown haired little woman in her mid-fifties. Dani lingered over the greeting as long as possible, but finally the moment she had been dreading came. As Paul rattled off the names of the other couple, Dani slowly turned and found herself pinned by Jason's dark gaze.

  "Linda and I have already met Danielle," he said smoothly, giving her a sardonic smile before reaching across the table to shake Phil's hand.

  For the first time Dani's gaze went to the woman seated between Jason and Paul Haggerty, and her spirits dropped another notch when she met the hostile glitter in Linda Hastings's eyes. "Hello, Ms. Hastings," she said, mustering what she hoped was a pleasant smile.

  The other woman merely nodded and looked away, her face sullen.

  When they were all seated, Dani, to her dismay, found herself on Jason's immediate right. They were so close she could feel the warmth of his body all along her side, could smell his cologne and his unique male s
cent. He leaned back in his chair with easy nonchalance, his forearm braced against the edge of the table. From the corner of her eye she could see him cup a squat whiskey glass, the fine dusting of golden hair on the back of his large hand glittering in the glow from the candle flickering in the middle of the table. For a moment his long, blunt fingers idly rotated the glass, then he lifted it to his mouth, his arm brushing hers. Dani stared straight ahead and clamped her teeth together so tightly her jaws began to ache.

  Phil leaned forward and smiled at Linda and Jason. "So, how is it that you know Dani?" he asked, directing the question at both of them.

  "We met at a party," Jason replied smoothly, giving nothing away.

  "Well, my boy, you ought to hire her to do the make-over on that door and window factory you just bought," Paul put in. "It'll be making money hand over fist in no time if you do, I can personally guarantee it."

  Dani turned her head slightly and slanted Jason a cool look, then switched her gaze to the older man. "Actually, Update is doing the revamping of Mr. St. Clair's company, Paul, but I'm not in charge of the project," she said in a matter-of-fact voice.

  "Well, Frank Manders's outfit is good; there's no disputing that. But if I were you, Jason, I'd insist that he assign the project to Dani. She's the very best there is." Paul smiled proudly at her. "A few years back my bank was sinking in a sea of paperwork, red tape and inefficiency, then I finally bit the bullet and admitted that the computer age was here to stay and called in Update. Well sir, Dani and her crew breezed in, sifted through it all and had us straightened out in just a matter of months."