The Man With The Money. Arlene James
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for him when he’d gotten home from work, anxious to speak to him about their mother’s latest folly, an investment scheme in a diamond mine located in, of all places, Missouri. Tawny had seen Jill accessing his elevator and assumed that she was a girlfriend. She’d ambushed him then just as she had today, complaining bitterly that he’d lied to her about not giving out his key to his lovers. She’d wept and exclaimed that she could satisfy his sexual needs far better than that “frumpy brunette.” When he’d explained, through gritted teeth, that the woman in question was his sister, for pity’s sake, Tawny had accused him of leading her on and breaking her heart. He’d left her screaming that he owed her, so he wasn’t too surprised to see her here again today.
“Oh, baby,” she cooed, gliding up to him, “I’m so sorry. How was I to know she was your sister?”
“You weren’t,” he said flatly, “because it isn’t any of your business.”
“I know, I know, but I can’t help myself,” she pouted, sliding a hand lightly over his chest. “You know I’m crazy about you, D.K. You’ve ruined me for every other man. I’ve missed our good times so much.”
“But not enough to move out, I’ve noticed,” Darren retorted dryly.
Anger flashed in Tawny’s artificially green eyes but was quickly replaced by woe. “I thought you wanted me near you.”
Darren lightly placed his hand on her shoulder and pushed her away, saying, “You thought wrong.” He dropped his hand and stepped back several steps, adding, “I tried to help out, but you knew the ground rules from the beginning. I’ve been more than generous. Now it’s time for you to go.”
The spigot immediately turned on. “Oh, D.K.!” she warbled, sniffing and blinking her false eyelashes. “How could you?”
He was immune by this time and just shook his head. “End of the month, Tawny. You ought to have a tidy little nest egg put aside by now. It’s nearly four weeks, so you have plenty of time, but I’ll even help you locate a new place if you want. Hell, I’ll help you move, if that’s what it takes, but one way or another you’re out of here by the end of the month. Understand?”
She was sobbing openly now, her lovely shoulders shaking pitifully, her face buried in her hands. “How can you do this to me? I burn for you. You’ll never know how desperately I want you to—”
“Yeah, yeah,” he interrupted. “The thing is, see, I’ve moved on, a long time ago. It’s past time for you to do the same thing.”
“But I only want you,” she insisted petulantly, reaching out for him.
He caught her arms and pushed them down. “But I don’t want you, Tawny,” he said softly but firmly. “I can’t be any more blunt than that.”
“But why?” she demanded, stomping a foot like an overtired child. “I know I turn you on.”
Oddly enough, she didn’t, not anymore. The awful truth was, in fact, that no one and nothing seemed to anymore, except…He pushed sudden thoughts of Charly Bellamy from his mind and took a good, hard look at Tawny Beekman. She was every man’s fantasy, so beautiful that she was almost unreal. Actually, she was a lot unreal, from her phony nails to those surgically enhanced breasts. In that respect she was not much different from most of the women with whom he’d been involved. For some reason he found all the artifice unpalatable at the moment.
“Tawny,” he said patiently, “it is so over. It has been for a long time, and it’s going to stay that way. So get it out of your head that you can get me back into bed. It’s not going to happen.”
“Then why can’t I stay?” she pleaded.
He almost laughed. Didn’t she realize how transparent she was? Her great passion for him obviously had more to do with free rent than anything else. Once again, it was his money.
“You can’t stay,” he said bluntly, “because I’m tired of you taking advantage of me. You’ve had a good, long, free ride at my expense. Now it’s over. Get used to it.”
She didn’t even try the tears this time, going straight to outrage instead. “You selfish son of a—”
“Oh, that’s rich, when you’re the one mooching free rent.”
“You can afford it, damn you!”
“That doesn’t mean you’re entitled to it,” Darren retorted dismissively, turning away. “Just vacate the apartment by the end of the month.” He began walking toward the exit.
“You’re going to pay for this, Rudell! You can’t just toss me out with the trash! I’m going to get you! If it’s the last thing I ever do, I’m going to get you, D.K.!”
He pulled open the heavy metal door that led to the elevator bank, walked through it and let it close solidly behind him, closing out the sound of her voice as she continued to shriek at him. Crazy woman. What did she think she could do? He was D. K. Rudell, after all, and she was a drama queen who’d hitched a free ride. Well, the ride was over. End of the line. And the instant she was off the gravy train, he meant to tear up the track behind it. From now on, his generous impulses were strictly little league, Little League soccer to be exact, if such a term applied.
As he fitted his key into the slot of his private elevator and punched in the code on the keypad below, he smiled, thinking of all those little kids running around with RuCom Electronics emblazoned on their chests—and a grateful Charlene Bellamy beaming up at him. He felt a fresh spurt of excitement as the elevator door slid open, followed swiftly by sheer relief. How long had it been, really, since he’d felt such eagerness? Pocketing his keys, he stepped into the elevator, turned and pushed the button, then leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, imagining Charly Bellamy in his arms. His heart thumped in an unexpected fashion. Oddly poignant, it almost hurt. A strange warmth spread through him.
Slightly embarrassed, he cleared his throat and glanced up at the tiny security camera mounted in the corner of the elevator car. Every elevator, every entrance, every corridor in the building was outfitted with them. He often wondered what his security officers saw on those constantly lit monitors. Not much of a criminal nature had happened in this building, despite its proximity to the downtown area. They’d nailed a purse snatcher hanging around the front elevator bank when he’d tried to grab a tenant’s handbag as the elevator door slid closed, and they’d flushed out a couple of prostitutes looking for a clean, out-of-the-way place to take their business. A pizza delivery guy had tried to walk off with a package left outside the door of one apartment on his way out of the building. Other than that, the residents themselves and their guests had to provide any entertainment for the security guys.
Darren had never asked, but he suspected that the silent, blue-jacketed guards had gotten an eyeful more than once, but never at his expense. He was too aware of being watched to misbehave in public or even in the seeming privacy of a closed elevator. It was an unpleasant fact of his life that people were always watching, and not just security guards. Even his most private moments often found their way into the press, however, so he made it a personal policy to break it off with any woman who spoke to reporters about their relationship. It didn’t keep him from being duped by the occasional publicity hound, but it kept him from investing more in them than he could afford to lose.
He was a little surprised that Charly hadn’t recognized him, frankly, but he was also glad. If he was very careful, she might never know who he really was. Perhaps that possibility explained his intense interest in her. Yes, that must be it. It wasn’t her so much as it was the opportunity to step out of his public persona and into a normal life for a time. Normal was something that he vaguely remembered, but he was pretty sure he could pull it off. It must be like riding a bicycle; it came back to you once you climbed aboard and pushed off.
Feeling confident, he whistled as he stepped out of the elevator and into the penthouse foyer. He locked the elevator in place with a holding code, then opened the apartment, inserting the key into the slot in the wall that left his one-of-a-kind door unmarred by the obscenity of a keyhole. The massive