Tangled Destinies. Diana Palmer
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“Oh, we have enough employees,” he said easily. “It’s mostly bookkeeping, anyway.”
“Some bookkeeping! I’d go blind staring at so many numbers.”
“The auditors do, I think.” He laughed. He studied her for a long moment as they went down in the elevator. “There’s a party next Friday night at Marc’s apartment. Come with me.”
She felt herself go trembly. She wanted to go. She wanted to see Marc, just once more, to let her eyes have the freedom to look at him, to enjoy the sight and smell and reality of him after all this time. She’d thought that after all these years she’d gotten over him, but now, after seeing him just once, she wanted desperately to be near him again. It was so dangerous, though. The trap was there: she could fall in headfirst; she could give up her soul to him all over again. And this time it would be harder to let go. Despite his betrayal, despite the anguish, a part of her belonged to him and always would.
“I don’t think so,” she said quietly.
“Don’t be afraid of him,” Joe taunted lightly, touching her face. “I’ll be right there with you. He won’t bother you.”
That’s what you think, she thought. She looked up, her green eyes dominating her soft face. “Do you know how it ended between Marc and me?” she asked abruptly.
His eyebrows arched. “Sure. Your parents sent you away to school, to get you away from him.”
She opened her mouth. “Almost,” she told him. She and Joe were friends now, and she liked him. He felt like the brother she’d never had. And that being the case, she didn’t want to hurt him, to disillusion him about Marc. She knew he still looked up to his older brother, and she couldn’t destroy his dreams. She remembered how it had hurt when Marc destroyed hers.
She smiled faintly. “He told you, then?”
“Marc?” He stuck out his lower lip and laughed. “He never tells me anything. I just probed until I dragged that out of him. He wouldn’t talk about you afterward. Not one word. I guess it stung, having you taken out of his life like that.”
Sure it had stung, she thought, but the money had surely taken out the sting. He’d used it to good effect, too, she thought bitterly. She straightened. So he hadn’t told Joe the truth. How odd. Perhaps he didn’t want his younger brother to know what a cold-blooded, mercenary man he really was.
Her eyes grew cold as she relived it. “I’ll go to the party with you,” she said. “It will be an experience.”
“You’ll get to meet Lana,” he remarked, watching closely for her reaction.
She didn’t give him one. She’d learned to hide her feelings. “What a treat!” she said sarcastically.
He chuckled. “Stick with me, kid. I’ll protect you.”
Her eyes twinkled as she smiled back. He was really a nice man when he forgot his shyness. He did, with her. She seemed to bring out a new side of him. Interesting how that happened, she thought. Some people could draw out the darkness, others the light. She tucked her hand in his arm and let him lead her out of the building.
She almost looked back. But the trauma of seeing Marc again kept her eyes facing toward the street. Now that it had happened, it was over. She could be prepared for their next meeting. And no way was she going to miss that party now. She wanted to show him how little she cared for him. She wanted to dress to the teeth and show him exactly what he’d thrown away for money. The thought brightened her eyes, sharpened her smile. Joe, looking down, grinned. He could be forgiven for thinking he was the cause of her heightened color and being flattered by it.
MARC’S APARTMENT WAS LUXURIOUS, just as Gaby had pictured it. From the thick pile of the gray carpet to the charcoal, brown and beige striped furniture and coordinating curtains, it was as striking as the man who lived there. She had to admit that his taste in furnishings was very good. If he’d had any part in the decorating, she thought bitterly, when she caught a glimpse of him with the beautiful blonde on his arm.
So that was Lana Moore. She was wearing a black shoulderless gown, and it emphasized her very apparent femininity. Her hair was done Grecian style, very flattering to her delicate features and big blue eyes.
Gaby was wearing gold lamé, her sheath gown also shoulderless and with a deep slit down the front of the skirt, but her carriage had more panache than Ms. Moore. She had the modeling background to wear anything with style and exquisite grace. She was very grateful for that fact tonight. She couldn’t have borne coming off second best to Marc’s new love.
She’d left her own hair long, so that it swirled like copper around her face and shoulders. The few tiny freckles across her nose had been carefully camouflaged with makeup. Joe, when he’d picked her up at her home, had just stood and stared and whistled fervently. She’d grinned at him, pleased that he liked her choice of gowns. Now she was hardly able to grin as he propelled her toward his brother and Lana Moore.
“We’ll get this over first,” he whispered, smiling. He looked good, too, in dark evening clothes, although to Gaby he was still only a shadow of Marc. The older man wore his own dinner jacket with careless elegance, and Gaby had to force herself not to stare at him. His face was as dark as the beautiful, masculine hand that curved around Lana Moore’s milky shoulders...
“Joseph,” Marc said in greeting, turning with a smile that lasted only until he saw Gaby. “Miss Bennett,” he emphasized, nodding politely, although his eyes possessed her, thrilling eyes that had once looked hungrily on her. Was he remembering that? she wondered. Gaby felt as if she could almost see the thought in his mind.
The blonde beside him smiled, too, and it was genuine. She wasn’t at all what Gaby had expected.
“He won’t introduce me, but I’m Lana Moore,” the woman said gently. She looked about Gaby’s age, and her eyes were as warm as her smile. “He’s my best friend.”
“How do you do?” Gaby asked politely, feeling as if a knife turned in her heart as she returned the smile. “I’m Gaby Bennett. I’m sort of an employee,” she added, glancing at Joe.
Joe chuckled, reaching out to take Lana’s hand. “Hi. I’m the black sheep, remember me?” he asked. “Gaby, here, is our new commercial lady. She’s making the transmission-and-parts business boom.”
“No wonder you looked familiar!” Lana said. “I should have known straightaway. I’ve seen your commercials. You’re even lovelier in person!”
How horrible it was to be admired by the woman who’d replaced her in Marc’s life, in Marc’s heart. She had to act for all she was worth. “Thank you, but it’s the quality of the merchandise selling itself,” she replied. “I’m only the window dressing.”
“More than that,” Joe said under his breath, and tugged a lock of her hair affectionately. “She’s the whole show.”
“There’s a buffet, if you’d like something,” Marc told Joe and Gaby, and his arm drew Lana closer while she beamed up at him.
“All I’m allowed after meals is butterfly steak,” Gaby murmured dryly. “But I’d love some coffee,” she told Joe.
“Sure. Come on. See you,” he called to Marc and Lana, and guided Gaby toward the buffet.
Her eyes, if he could have seen them, would have shocked him. The anguish in them would have melted steel. But she quickly erased it and clung to his arm.
“She’s lovely,” she said. “And she seems a wonderful person.”
“She’s a nice kid, all right,” he agreed. “I hope he won’t hurt her too badly. He’s an iceberg, old Marc. He can’t seem to give. His emotions are tied up in knots.”