Tempting Fate, page 13
"Donovan bad. Donovan not come night. Gloria lonely."
"I was here during dinner," he argued.
Admittedly he hadn't stayed as long as he would have liked, but there had been the party to go to. After that, he had taken Brooke back to his house, and for a while, it looked as if he was going to spend the night in her arms.
Gloria eyed him accusingly. "You not come put Gloria sleep. Not many nights."
"I've been busy."
Gloria appeared not to have heard Donovan's response as she remained outwardly engrossed in the television set. Final y, when the program broke for a commercial featuring a used-car dealer who routinely broke windshields with a sledgehammer in order to wake up the late-night audience, she turned back toward him.
"Busy what? Getting new television?"
'Trying to." It was the first lie he'd ever told her and it made him feel like a heel.
She flashed a forgiving grin. "Gloria like new television,"
she signed as the G-men returned to the screen.
As Eliot Ness smashed up a speakeasy, Donovan wondered what he was going to do if Brooke turned down his grant proposal. There was one alternative, he considered. But for the present he preferred to keep that possibility as a last resort. Donovan could only hope that Brooke wouldn't push him into it.
IF BROOKE THOUGHT the long weekend without Donovan had stretched out interminably, the fol owing week passed by no less slowly. While the unexpected free time gave her the opportunity to finish settling into her apartment, as wel as completing the redecoration of her office, she stil found herself gazing out the window, searching for a glimpse of him.
With her evenings now free, she resumed the nightly running that had always kept unwanted pounds from her hips.
Initial y she had been tempted to choose a route that would take her past Donovan's house, but had ultimately rejected that idea. The man might be obtuse when it came to inter-personal relationships, but Brooke knew that even Donovan would be capable of seeing through such shal ow subterfuge.
Late Friday afternoon, one week after their argument, Brooke was staring intently out the window, as if it might be possible to conjure Donovan up by sheer mental effort. How she missed him! A student tossed a Frisbee to his dog on the lawn outside her window, the Irish setter leaping higher and higher with each succeeding catch, but Brooke was only aware of dog and owner on the most absent of levels as she wondered why these past few days apart were proving even more painful than the intervening years had been.
Before she could come up with an answer to that vexing question, the intercom on her desk buzzed, announcing the arrival of her next appointment.
Brooke rose as the visitor entered her office. Tal , perpet-ual y tanned, with swept-back silver hair, General Langley Osborne, U.S. Air Force, retired, made an impressive entrance. His three-piece navy suit, while a departure from the uniform the general usual y wore, was expensive and impeccably tailored. A burgundy tie provided a splash of color against the pristine white shirt, the bright hue echoed by the pocket handkerchief worn at his breast. His black shoes were polished to gleaming jet.
"Miss Stirling," General Osborne greeted her in a booming, oratorical voice that he used even in the most casual of conversations, "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to meet with you along with the others." He gave her a broad, professional smile. "Priorities, you know."
Behind the tinted aviator glasses, his gray eyes moved from the top of her dark head down to her black snakeskin pumps.
"However, if I had known what an attractive young woman Brad Chambers had brought in to administer our funds, I would have told the president that he'd have to find someone else to chair his meetings on space systems defenses."
The legendary man was as smooth in person as he was on al those television news programs. Brooke knew the general was not referring to President Chambers. No, this was the nation's chief executive he was mentioning so casual y. She smiled.
"I certainly wouldn't want to interfere with the inner workings of our government."
His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. "Wouldn't you?"
he inquired, pointedly ignoring her outstretched hand.
If Brooke thought that subtle accusation was to be a low point in their discussion, she was to be proven wrong. During the next forty-five minutes, the meeting continued to slide progressively downhil . She was more than a little relieved when the general glanced down at his gold Rolex watch and professed another appointment. Breathing a deep sigh, she kicked off her shoes, folded her arms on her desk and lowered her forehead to them.
"You look like a lady who could use a hot fudge sundae."
A deep, wonderful y familiar voice broke into her weary thoughts.
Brooke lifted her head. "With extra nuts?"
Donovan nodded. "Of course."
"And marshmal ow creme?"
"Could I forget the marshmal ow creme? And three, count them, three maraschino cherries."
He pul ed the cardboard container from behind his back.
"Peace offering," he announced.
"I hadn't realized we were at war," she murmured as she dug into the gooey delight.
He claimed a chair across from her and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Not war," he amended. "I suppose it's been more like an armed truce. Speaking of arms," he said offhandedly, "how did you get along with the Great One? I saw him marching out of the building as I came in."
She shrugged. "About as wel as can be expected. He made some not so subtle references to the state of the nation, friends in high places, that sort of thing."
"But he didn't stoop to begging you to leave his budget in-tact."
She managed a weak smile at that. "Donovan, the man has been military advisor to three presidents. Not only is he a regular on Face the Nation, Meet the Press, and The Mac-Neil/Lehrer Report, he pops up at least once a week on Nightline. His name is a household word and I doubt if you could find many people who wouldn't recognize his face."
"I read a pol a few months back that said more people could identify the general than the vice president."
Brooke nodded. "That's precisely what I mean. The name General Langley Osborne is synonymous with power. Do you think a man like that would beg a nobody like me for anything?"
"Probably not." His eyes narrowed as he took in the distress Brooke was trying hard to conceal. "You're going to do it, aren't you?" he said with a sense of wonder and just a little awe. "You're going to cut his budget right along with the rest of us peons."
"You know I can't reveal that information," she protested quietly. There was no need to. Her trembling fingers, as she lined up a row of pencils, gave her away.
"Wel , I sure hope you've got a start on your fal out shel-ter," he said easily. "Because you're going to need one before this is over."
Brooke mumbled a vague agreement as she turned her attention to the dessert Donovan had brought her. A comfortable silence settled over them and Donovan used the time to study her refurbished office. She had done wonders with the place. Everything about the smal office spoke of money and good taste, from the soft plush of the gray and blue Oriental rug, which had replaced the original tobacco-brown carpeting, to the Impressionist paintings on the blue-gray wal s.
"I like what you've done," he commented. "I'd heard you were efficient, but no one ever mentioned that you were a miracle worker."
Brooke's gaze drifted around the room. "If I had known you were dropping by, I'd have instructed Mrs. Harrigan to toss today's correspondence around a little to make you feel more at home."
His brows rose. "Is that any way to talk to a man who brings you hot fudge sundaes?" he chided softly.
Brooke lowered her lashes as she stirred the chocolate sauce and melted vanil a ice cream mixture with the red plastic spoon Donovan had supplied. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.
"You're right, that was a cheap shot."
He crossed his legs, bracing an ankle over his knee. "I don't know," he murmured, "I think I like the idea of you acting out of character. It tends to give a man the impression that you might care. Just a little?"
Brooke met his questioning gaze with a wary one of her own. "I do. More than a little."
His answering smile, while revealing satisfaction, did not appear to gloat. "That makes two of us." He leaned back, linking his fingers behind his head as he observed her thoughtful y. "So, where does that leave us?"
Brooke shook her head. "I don't know."
"Would it surprise you to know that I've been giving the matter a great deal of thought this past week? And that while I haven't come to any definite conclusions, I do have an inkling of what may be part of our problem."
"What's that?"
"Our past is messing up our future."
She stiffened. "If you're talking about the way things ended — "
He held upa hand. "No, I'm not," he said. Then he smiled slightly. "Wel , that obviously can't be discounted, but it's not what I'm referring to. I think part of our problem comes from the fact that since the physical attraction has remained as strong as ever, we assumed everything else would be the same, too."
Brooke was beginning to fol ow Donovan's train of thought and had to admit he could have stumbled onto something. "So we automatical y fel into old habits even though we're not the same people we once were."
He gave her a congratulatory look. "Exactly. We became lovers before we became friends."
Brooke took a bite of her sundae, relishing the combination of hot fudge and chil ed ice cream on her tongue as she considered Donovan's words.
"You could be right."
"I was hoping you'd agree," he said, trying hard not to display too much masculine satisfaction. It had not been easy for him to stay away from Brooke for an entire week, but he had convinced himself that his goals would be more easily achieved if she were forced to see that a lifetime alone was not nearly as appealing as the one they could share together.
Right now, al Donovan wanted to do was to take Brooke back home to his bed. Where she belonged.
Brooke scraped the last of the melted ice cream from the bottom of the dish. "I do." She leaned back in her chair, swiveling absently from side to side. "Although I'm amazed that you would have so much insight to the human condition."
"Hey," Donovan complained, appearing boyishly ag-grieved, "don't forget, I'm supposed to be the hotshot primate specialist. And while you are definitely worlds more appealing than Gloria and the rest of her clan, you do stil technical y fit into that category, Brooke."
"How kind of you to point that out," she said dryly.
He grinned as he rose from the chair. "Any time. Ready to go?"
"Go? Where?"
It was Donovan's turn to look confused. "Home, of course." Remembering what had started this argument in the first place, he backpedaled in an attempt to be scrupulously fair this time. "Or if you'd rather, we can spend tonight at your place."
Brooke had been in the process of putting her shoes back on, but at his words, she stopped to glance up at him curiously.
"Let me get this straight," she said slowly. "You believe, and for the record, I happen to agree with you, that we jumped into this relationship too rapidly. That we began sleeping together without discovering who the other person real y was."
"That's it in a nutshel ," he agreed. "Do you need help with that shoe?"
"I need assistance understanding how such a bril iant mar could make such a quantum leap in logic," she countered
"Obviously, Donovan, we have to stop making love."
"What?"
He stared at her, dumbfounded, wondering what he could have possibly said to have made Brooke jump to such an erroneous conclusion. That unattractive solution had been the furthest thing from his mind. He came around the desk.
"It's real y quite simple," Brooke said. "Actual y, I don't understand why I didn't think of it myself. It's obvious that we're basing al our understanding of each other on the idea of who we were twelve years ago. It would also stand to reason that not only are those memories colored with certain prejudices, they also don't reflect who we are today."
He ran his palm along her shoulder, coaxing the tense muscles under his touch to relax. "Agreed. But what does that have to do with us making love?"
Brooke shrugged off his hand as she tugged on the black snakeskin pump. "Our only intimacy has been in bed. We've made a lot of love, Donovan, but that doesn't mean we know anything about each other."
His long fingers curled around her upper arms as he lifted her from the chair. "We'l talk," he said against her hair as he drew her into his arms.
"You'l fil in al the gaps, then it'l be my turn." He ran his hands down her back, cupping her hips to draw her into an intimate embrace. "Then we'l make love.
Al night long."
Brooke felt herself responding to the seduction of his hands, the purr of his words as he nibbled at her ear, the strength of his body pressing against hers. It would be so easy to simply succumb to this sensual moment. But if she al owed herself to slip this time, how would things ever change between them?
"I don't think that's a good idea." Her hands pushed lightly against his shoulders. "And it's definitely not what I mean."
Donovan brushed his lips against her temple. "You've lost me, Brooke. Was I wrong to think that you've missed me as much these past days as I have you? Wasn't your bed as cold and lonely as mine? Your life as empty? Didn't you find yourself waking up in the middle of the night, wanting me?"
"Of course I wanted you," she said on a soft moan as his hand slid between them to cup her breast.
"And now you're going to have me," he soothed, his lips plucking enticingly at hers. "We'l both have what we want, sweetheart."
Her head was swimming, her bones were melting, and her resolve was spinning dangerously out of reach. Brooke forced herself to break the warming contact.
"No," she insisted. "This isn't what I want."
"Isn't it?" he chal enged softly.
"No," Brooke repeated, strengthening her voice as wel as her determination.
"Are you saying that we're not going to see each other again?"
"Of course I'm not," Brooke protested. "Besides, that would be a little difficult, wouldn't it? After al , I do have a year's contract with the col ege. And you're certainly not going anywhere."
"Don't be so sure of that," he said under his breath.
Brooke's gaze suddenly sharpened. "What does that mean?"
Donovan's only response was a slight shrug. "Nothing.
Getting back to our relationship, are you by any chance suggesting that we keep things strictly on a business basis?"
Brooke put her hands behind her back to prevent him from viewing her nervous fingers as they twisted together. This wasn't going to be easy.
Donovan's natural y amiable face could have been carved from granite.
"Not exactly. Unless you want to keep it that way."
"Of course I don't!"
"Neither do I," she admitted. "But I think we ought to take things one step at a time. Get to know each other on some other level besides sex."
He appeared honestly taken aback by her proposal. "Are you suggesting we date?"
"It's not exactly a dirty word, Donovan. Believe it or not, men and women actual y manage to enjoy each other's company from time to time without ending up in the bedroom."
"Dating's for kids," he objected.
"So think of it as remaining young at heart," Brooke countered calmly.
Donovan opted for logic. "Honey, be reasonable. There's no reason why we can't share more of our lives and our feelings, but I don't see that giving up a terrific sex life is going to prove anything." His gaze was suddenly sharp. "You do enjoy that part, don't you? I mean, you wouldn't fake it or anything?"
Brooke reached up and patted his cheek. "Of course not.
No one has ever made me feel the way you do, Donovan."
"At least that's something," he muttered, obviously ag-grieved. "But if you feel that way, why do you want to make us both suffer? Are you attempting to live up to some ridiculously romanticized hearts-and-flowers ideal that only happens in novels? Or schmaltzy movies?"
Brooke had forgotten that Donovan could be so patron-izing. "Don't talk to me as if you're the intel igent, lucid scientist and I'm the emotional, irrational female. I'l have you know that hundreds, thousands — " she waved her hand to encompass the entire world outside her window " —
millions of people share my feelings."
"I hadn't realized we'd cal ed for a referendum."
She glared up at him. "You don't have to be sarcastic."
"And you don't have to be so intransigent. Be reasonable, Brooke, you're not just insisting we start al over again, you're asking me to forget everything I've learned about you."
His eyes gleamed as they moved over her face. "You want me to deny that your soft scent fil s my head like an inhaled drug. You're insisting that I pretend I haven't noticed that your lustrous eyes widen and turn to gold when I enter you.
You're asking me to ignore the fact that your skin is soft as satin and gleams in the moonlight with the iridescence of natural pearls — "
"Stop that!"
Donovan tilted his head. "See what I mean?" he asked with a chal enging smile. "You can't put it out of your mind any better than I can."
"Of course I can," Brooke snapped.
"Real y?" He held out his arms. "Come kiss me and tel me that."
Brooke stayed where she was. "I didn't say it was going to be easy. But it's something that I'm going to insist on, Donovan."
He dropped one arm to his side. The long fingers of his other hand rubbed his chin. "What happens if I don't agree?"
"That's your privilege," she said, turning away, unable to meet his gaze.
A moment later she heard him sigh. "Wel , I don't seem to have any choice, so I suppose I'l have to go along with it. For now."
She spun around, giving him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Donovan." Her tone, as wel as her expression, was unusual y formal. "I appreciate you making the effort."
He ran his index finger down her nose. "For now," he repeated firmly. "And don't think that I'm not going to try to change your mind, sexy lady," he warned.
