Winter PromiseBy

Zay Sevier

Chapter OneHeather heard a light footstep behind her as

she turned the key in the door to her apartment. Looking around, she saw a young woman with tousled brown hair coming up the hall.

“Hello,” the woman said, extending her hand. “You must be my new neighbor. I’m Jill Robinson. I live just down the hall here.”

The woman had a casual, easy manner. Since arriving in Texas, Heather had noticed how outgoing and friendly the southwesterners were. She shook the woman’s hand warmly.

“I’m Heather Sinclair.”“And a Yankee, judging from your accent,” said

Jill with a friendly twinkle in her brown eyes. “Let’s see, I’ll bet you’re from . . . New England?”

Heather laughed. “Is it that obvious?” she said. “No, I’m from Pittsburgh, and I’ve only been here about a week. I work for Brook Petroleum, near the Southwest Freeway.

The weather was hot and oppressive, but Heather reminded herself that air conditioning made the Houston summers quite pleasant.

“Come on in and sit down while I turn up the air conditioner. How did you know I was from the north?” she asked, affecting a Texas drawl.

“It was only a guess,” said Jill with a chuckle. “Actually,” she said in a tone of mock seriousness,

“I’m really a super sleuth, disguised as an easy-going girl-next-door type.”

Heather motioned for Jill to take a chair. She had decorated the small beige-painted living room in peach with touches of blue. The effect was relaxing and cheerful.

“So you work for the famous Adrian Brook,” Jill said with interest when they were settled. She lowered her eyelids. “Tell me, what is the mysterious and handsome Mr. Brook really like?”

Heather laughed, a little self-consciously. “Is he mysterious?” she said. “He certainly is a mystery to me. I haven’t even met him yet. He’s been out of town on business since I’ve been with the company, and his office manager hired me. I did have an interview with one of the vice-presidents, Carlyle Slater, but I won’t get a chance to meet the ‘big man’ until tomorrow.”

She sighed slightly and shifted in her chair. She was a little apprehensive about meeting her boss, but she didn’t want her new neighbor to know it.

“Is he really mysterious and handsome?” Heather asked. “I don’t expect him to be, judging from the oil painting hanging in the offices. It shows him to be rather stern and—almost forbidding.”

“Well, he’s certainly handsome,” replied Jill. “Every Houstonian has seen his picture in the papers. You can’t be a multi-millionaire and eligible to boot without getting your face splashed all over the society page, even if you are a recluse.”

Heather started at this. She remembered the first time she had asked Margie, the computer programmer, about Adrian Brook. Margie had lowered her voice and her eyes and muttered something about “not seeing Mr. Brook for days.”

“I understand he’s a man who keeps to himself,” Jill went on. “Not a big socializer and they say he doesn’t have many close friends.” She looked at

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Heather with an inquiring glance. “What do you do at Brook Petroleum?”

“The job description was rather vague,” returned Heather. “When I applied, I thought I would be mainly a receptionist, but my office experience and training has come in handy. In fact, Ross—he’s the office manager—has me drawing up contracts and talking to oil producers and cartel representatives. I even help out with bookkeeping for the accountant, and I sometimes do secretarial work for Mr. Slater. I guess you could say I’m a sort of high-powered girl Friday.”

She looked at Jill. “You said you live down at the end of the hall. I wasn’t sure that apartment was occupied.”

“Just by little old me,” said Jill gaily. “But then, I’m hardly ever home anyway. I expect I won’t live there for long, because my fiancé, David, is going to take me away from all this whenever he gets a promotion or raise or whatever it takes to be able to afford a wife. He works for the city, looking after the foliage and what-not at Hermann Park. He’s an absolute genius with flowers and ferns. Sometimes I think he’s more interested in plants than he is in me.”

She laughed. “Seriously, he is very dedicated to his job. He loves the outdoors and nurturing living things—flowers, I mean.”

She glanced at her watch and stood up. “That reminds me—it’s time for me to run,” she said. “Can’t keep my budding horticulturist waiting. Come on down and visit sometime.”

Heather smiled as she let Jill out the door. Such a friendly girl, and so pretty and fresh looking. Kicking off her business shoes, Heather padded out to the kitchen in her stocking feet to pour herself a glass of iced tea.

She returned to the living room and stretched out on the sofa, lifting the blond hair off her neck,

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and settled back to enjoy the coolness of her air-conditioning. It pleased her to find such a suitable and friendly neighbor, and she resolved to see more of Jill Robinson.

But now she was alone once again with her thoughts, and it occurred to her that she had had too muchtime to brood recently. The loneliness that Jill’s presence had dispelled returned to nag at her.

Heather hadn’t been lonely in Pittsburgh. Her boyfriend, Brad, was forever dragging her to this or that party or get-together. Usually she ended up driving because his car was too temperamental to be very dependable. She had a sort of unspoken understanding with Brad—a comfortable relationship. But it may have been that very unspoken understanding that played on her subconscious and threatened to stifle her.

So far her life in Houston was very different from what it had been in Pittsburgh. She sighed and looked out the glass doors that opened onto her sun terrace, where a sparrow had alighted on the railing in search of a crumb. Watching him, Heather thought how she had come to Houston hoping to fill a void in her file, to dispel the vague fears she had about her own destiny.

Her decision to leave Pittsburgh had come as one solution among many possible solutions to the dilemma that she was unable to admit even to herself. She only knew that it was a dilemma that resulted in her inability to control the circumstances of her life, whatever the causes might have been. She had felt herself being drawn into a humdrum existence.

Her parents’ tragic death in a car accident had begun the chain of events just after she graduated from high school. Hers had been a sad return from her Paris graduation trip to find herself virtually alone in the world. She soon learned that her father

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had spent much of his savings on that trip and that she didn’t have a large inheritance.

She acquired some business training and experience, but she had not found her way into a career she felt comfortable with, and her natural dislike for winters in Pittsburgh had turned her eyes southward.

Heather’s Aunt and Uncle lived in Brookshire, a small town near Houston. They had repeatedly offered their home and hospitality since her parents’ accident. Uncle Fred was retired, and he and Aunt Rita were comfortable, but not well off.

After a particularly harsh winter in Pittsburgh, Heather finally decided to spend at least a few weeks with her only relatives and to test the waters in the job market in Houston.

Brookshire was some thirty miles from downtown Houston, but Heather was accustomed to the ways of a large city and wasn’t at all surprised to find that some people commuted from Brookshire every day, although many of the people in the little town earned their living from the land.

Brad had been vehemently opposed to her move. But then Brad was not the sort to try new things. Stable. Stable, and a little dull, Heather thought to herself, and was surprised that she could think such thoughts about good, sweet Brad. They had dated in high school, and he had provided her a shoulder to cry on after she returned from Paris.

He certainly hadn’t liked her repeated refusals of his offer for marriage. Try as she might, she couldn’t muster up the strong, loving feelings that she knew was important to a marriage, and she grew a little uncomfortable in his presence.

Together they spent an entire evening discussing her move, but in the end, Heather made her own decision.

She thought fondly of her parents. They had been a loving couple, and Heather hoped to have a

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similar happy, joyful marriage. Her heart ached when she realized she would never see her parents again.

No, she would not be happy with a man she could not love fully. Yet perhaps Brad was the man in her future—after all, they had been together so long. She couldn’t imagine anyone sweeter than Brad. It disturbed her, though, that in spite of her loneliness, she really didn’t miss him very much.

He was certainly stable—that word came back to her again and again when she thought of Brad. He could provide security. He had worked in the furniture store in Pittsburgh since he left high school, studying at the vocational college at night, and would probably someday be the manager of the store. Had she been foolish to leave him in Pittsburgh with hardly a word?

Heather’s sparrow had evidently given up a fruitless search on the stone railing. It seemed to her that he took a deep breath of determination and hope as he flew off to try his luck elsewhere.

Since Heather had taken her apartment in Houston, her new job had kept her busy, so she had only visited the swimming pool a few times, and afterward the long summer evenings had left her a prey to her loneliness. But now she had a friend in Jill Robinson. Heather thought back over her conversation with Jill.

What about the “mysterious and handsome” Mr. Brook? She hardly knew what to expect—no one at the office had volunteered any information about him, and the portrait showed him to be an almost ageless enigma. Well, she would meet him tomorrow.

Heather rose early the next morning. She could not have slept late had she wanted to—anticipation urged her out of bed, anticipation tinged with a little fear. But meeting Jill seemed to have given her life a whole new beginning, and she

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was anxious to make a good impression on the employer she was to meet for the first time. She chose a softly tailored green dress that accentuated the green of her eyes and played up the luster of her blond hair.

Ross Dickson, the office manager, was the first to greet her when she arrived at work. “Ready to meet your boss?” he asked.

Heather smiled. “I think so. I guess I’m a little nervous. Is he here yet?”

“He will be soon. He’s an early riser, but he said he wanted to check on the installation of a new rig before he comes in. I’ll introduce you as soon as he gets here.”

Ross went back to his own office, leaving Heather alone in the reception area. She made some coffee and began to arrange the desk for the day’s business--leases to file, contracts to draw up, phone calls to make. It was all rather exciting—being a part of the booming oil industry. Heather was proud of the organization she had managed to bring to the office at Brook Petroleum.

Jill had said Adrian Brook was mysterious and hand-some—he looked rather old in the portrait—but Heather knew that it wouldn’t matter how handsome he was, or how eligible, she wasn’t going to fall for him. He was a wealthy and successful oil operator, and wealthy men, especially wealthy Texans, had a way of expecting their women to kowtow to them.

“Their women.” The whole idea reminded Heather of an owner of a large stable. Of course this was only the impression she had of wealthy Texans from movies and popular fiction, but it was probably true. Well, she was not the type of girl to fall for that sort of man. And besides, she had her very comfortable relationship with Brad.

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The intercom interrupted her thoughts. “Come down to my office,” Ross said. “Adrian wants to meet you.”

Heather took a deep breath and straightened her dress. She smoothed her hair and checked her makeup in her cosmetic mirror, then went down the hall to Ross’s office.

Ross was alone. “He’ll be right in,” he said.Heather heard the door open and turned to face

Adrian Brook.

Chapter TwoAdrian Brook was a very tall, handsome man,

tanned a golden brown by the Houston sun. The fit of his suit suggested a lean, muscular build. His dark hair had a glint of red highlights and seemed almost to caress his head. Heather noted the strong, well-molded features, dark, sultry blue eyes over finely-chiseled cheekbones, and aquiline nose, richly formed lips that seemed to hold secrets of

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passion. His complexion seemed to make him all the more elegant in a hard, strong way.

But besides his almost breathtaking good looks, there was about him an air of authority, an uncompromising masculinity.

In an instant she saw that the painting on the wall, just over his shoulder, was not a likeness of him, but of an older man with the same commanding look, the same glint to his eye, and the same expression of self-satisfaction that played about Adrian’s mouth. Heather felt the palms of her hands grow cold.

He looked at her for a moment with an expression almost of disbelief. She sensed that something was wrong, and felt a strange, sudden urge to leave the room, but Adrian glanced at Ross and immediately regained his polite but commanding attitude.

“Ah, you’re Heather,” he said. His voice was rich and low.

She shook his hand. “I’m very glad to meet you, Mr. Brook.”

“Please call me Adrian. We’re a small office here, and I intend to call you Heather.” He smiled. “I’m sure Ross and Carlyle have shown you the ropes thoroughly by now.”

“Everyone has been very helpful. Ross spent a whole day with me, going over the leases and contracts.”

“Ross probably knows this business better than I do,” he said good-naturedly. ‘I couldn’t get along without him. And Carlyle probably stayed in his ivory tower.” A devilish glint came into his eye at this last statement, but he didn’t expect Heather to confirm or deny it. “How do you like our office so far?”

“Very well,” answered Heather, breathing fast. She felt anxious to return to the safety of her desk, but at the same time drawn to Adrian Brook. In

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spite of her first impression, she had to admit she hadn’t expected such charm to be manifested in so few words.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Adrian quickly turned away, signifying their interview was over.

“I’m happy to have met you, Mr.—I mean, Adrian. I’ll be at my desk if you need me.”

As she walked out of the office, Heather’s heart seemed to pound so loudly that she was afraid someone would hear it. She had somehow not been prepared for Adrian Brook’s overwhelming air of authority. She leaned against the wall, feeling almost faint, when she was jolted by Adrian’s voice, speaking to Ross in an irritated undertone.

“Good God, man! Of all the secretaries in the world, why did you hire her?” Then the door closed.

Heather felt almost ill—hurt and angry by the rough words she had overheard. She hurried to her desk. Had her work been so bad? She felt that she had been extremely efficient. What had caused that momentary look of disbelief on Adrian’s face, and why did he seem to take a sudden dislike to her?

He had seen her glancing at the portrait. It almost seemed that he resented the intrusion, the threat she posed to his private world. The portrait was familial—in all likelihood his father. She was glad Carlyle Slater hadn’t been in the room. With his stern looks he would have made her feel even more helpless. Heather looked down at the green dress she had chosen so carefully. She had hoped to be on good terms with her boss, to work in a congenial and supportive atmosphere. She struggled to control her jumbled thoughts. She was apprehensive about seeing Adrian again, but was relieved that by the end of the day she hadn’t even caught another glimpse of him.

When Heather returned to her apartment after work, she caught sight of Jill in the hall, struggling

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to open her apartment door without spilling the contents of the two grocery sacks she carried.

“Let me help,” said Heather, hurrying up.In the apartment Jill put away the groceries and

poured two glasses of iced tea. “Have a seat,” she said, handing a glass to Heather. Jill threw herself on the sofa and propped her feet on the coffee table. She asked how Heather’s meeting with her boss had gone.

By this time Heather had almost been able to forget the hurt of the morning, but Jill’s question brought it suddenly back to her.

“He is extremely good-looking,” she ventured. “But I’m not sure he’s happy with me.”

“Why not?” Jull asked. “You seem like the kind of girl who would take right to the work in his office.”

“Oh, it’s not that. I’m sure my work is up to par. I know an oil lease inside out. Besides that, he didn’t say anything to me about my work. After I met him this morning, I overheard him ask the office manager why he had hired me, as if it were something personal he had against me. But it’s a complete mystery to me. I never saw him before in my life. He had an unpleasant edge to his voice.”

“Well, you must have done something,” said Jill.

“I don’t know what,” replied Heather, gazing reflectively at her tea. A flood of memories returned to her, but her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come on in, David,” called Jill. A handsome young man entered. He had the same cheerful, open look Jill had, and his attractive, friendly face was set off by thick sandy blond hair.

Heather rose. As introductions were being made, she studied his face. His eyes were warm and friendly, and she found she liked him immediately.

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“My, you pick pretty neighbors,” said David, cocking an eyebrow and turning a teasing look to Jill.

“I do it to please you,” she returned demurely, with the same bantering tone.

David had a grocery sack in his arm. “Is the grill fired up?” he asked Jull. “I’ve got the steaks.”

“I’d better be leaving you two to your dinner,” put in Heather, as she moved toward the door.

“We wouldn’t hear of it. That’s not the Houston way to treat a neighbor, is it, David?” said Jill, jumping up. “You’ll stay to dinner. David, you can get that fire going on the terrace and Heather and I will tend to the table.”

David smiled, bowed obediently, and walked out to the deck.

“Oh, Jill, you needn’t . . .” began Heather.“Don’t be silly. Run home and slide into some

jeans. If you’re not back in ten minutes I’ll come and drag you down here.”

Heather found both Jill and David to be wonderful company. They ate too much, talked all through dinner, and laughed heartily. Heather couldn’t remember when she’d had this much fun.

In the course of the evening, Jill ventured the information that she worked at the police station.

“That must be very exciting,” said Heather.“Not really. I’m only a glorified file clerk. But

I go to Rice University part-time.”“I think she ought to be a model,” said David,

smiling at his fiancée with admiration.Jill laughed. “I’m much too beautiful and too

short to be a model,” she said. She certainly is attractive, thought Heather.

She’s the type of girl who can wear jeans and look great in them. Jill liked to wear shoes she could kick off without having to untie or unbuckle them. Just now she was barefoot, and with her it seemed not only natural, but charming.

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The threesome had a delicious dinner of grilled steak mingled with much laughter and getting acquainted. It was late when heather finally bid Jill and David goodnight and left for the quiet of her own apartment.

She was surprised at how still the summer nights could be, even in a huge, sprawling city like Houston. She went out to her terrace, enjoying the night air and looking down over the city. Her apartment was on the fourteenth floor, and she could see the light of downtown Houston sparkling not too far distant.

She did not feel so lonely now. She was coming to like Houston, to regard it as home. The people were friendly, and there were places to go and things to do. Pittsburgh was a big metropolis too, but there Heather had locked herself indoors much of the year because of the cold. She would rather put up with the Houston heat that could be so sultry in the summer than the immobilizing cold of northern winters. Slowly she closed the terrace doors and went inside.

She dropped off to sleep almost immediately that night, but still she was five minutes late to work the next morning. She parked her car quickly and rushed in, worried that her new boss would have more reason to disapprove of her. But Adrian had not arrived when she came in. She barely caught sight of him during the day, only once getting a curt nod of greeting.

Over the next few weeks, Heather discovered that, as Margie had said, there were often days when her boss didn’t appear at the office at all, but told her to call his cell phone if it was absolutely necessary. The staff worked smoothly without him, supervised by the efficient and likable Ross, with occasional mandates from Carlyle Slater.

“Adrian is a man who likes to get his hands dirty,” Ross explained to her one day. “He

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frequently leaves everything to me here, so he can work with the contractors and roughnecks at the fields. He knows this business like the back of his hand.” Heather was glad of Ross’s amiability and easy manner. He made her feel comfortable and efficient. And for all Carlyle’s gruff front, she found that he admired her for the way she organized the office.

Returning home from work one day, she found a letter from Brad waiting for her in the mail slot. She smiled at the familiar handwriting. How pleasant to be remembered, but what a nuisance, too. Maybe the distance between them now would serve to cool Brad’s ardor.

In the letter Brad talked of goings-on in Pittsburgh, and the marriage of some old school friends. He also asked after her job. Heather felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since she’d written him. She would make herself do it tonight.

The next day Heather arrived at the officer and found Adrian already there, waiting by her desk. She started slightly at the sight of him. She had seldom seen him except in passing, and was struck now by his overpowering attractiveness. With a strong, masculine grace he was leaning against her desk, looking very capable and businesslike. The morning sun coming through the window shone on his dark hair, and the rich blue of his eyes reminded Heather of blue velvet. She was strangely aware that they were alone together.

Adrian had disapproved of her that first morning, and since then had seemed to be almost rude to her at times. But with his dark eyes, his strong appealing face, and his manly build she knew it would be easy to fall for a man like him.

His gaze, as he surveyed her with a look of almost impudent appraisal, was cool but not hostile.

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We have a lot of work before us today,” he said shortly. “Get your most urgent things out of the way, and then come back to my office.” He left her abruptly.

Heather was shaken by his attitude and distracted from her work. “Oh, why should I let him affect me this way?” she thought momentarily, and forced her attention to her office work.

She soon discovered that spending a day with Adrian Brook was no easy task. He had a disconcerting way of looking straight into her eyes with those blue ones of his, which had the oddest effect of sending the blood racing through her veins and flooding her cheeks. She was fascinated by his almost feline grace, and every movement of his muscular body caught her unwilling attention. It was with her supremest effort that she forced herself to concentrate on the many instructions he gave her over the next few hours.

She was sitting in a massive leather chair in his office, jotting down some notes on her memo pad when the office phone rang.

“Answer it here,” directed Adrian, not looking up, concentrating on paper work before him.

“Good afternoon, Brook Petroleum,” she said into the phone. She was standing very near Adrian’s desk, but he seemed not to notice her.

“Let me speak to Adrian, please,” came a smooth, feminine voice.

“May I tell him who’s calling? He’s rather busy just now” said Heather.

“Just tell him it’s Diana.”She relayed the message. Suddenly Adrian

seemed to return to the real world. “I’ll take it,” he said. “We’ll finish these later. Go file the ones we’ve already gone through.”

Heather left without a word, feeling a bit irritated and surprised by the way he dismissed her. Until the phone rang he had seemed absorbed in the

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work before them, and he was even acting much more friendly to her than she had expected. But at the name “Diana,” his manner had changed abruptly. As she closed the door quietly behind her, she overheard him say, “I thought you’d never call, Diana.”

Heather felt put out, but she also felt relieved. So there was a woman in his life. She hadn’t missed that look of appraisal in his eyes that morning, but now it appeared that Diana, whoever she was, held his affections.

Well, that’s fine and dandy, Heather thought. I have Brad, and he is a solid bulwark and a man of worth. But she was lying to herself, and she knew it. She felt almost jealous of this Diana.

But it was past time for lunch and that may have explained why she felt so strange. She remembered that Jill usually had a late lunch, and called her to arrange to meet at a nearby coffee shop.

Over a light lunch of broiled chicken and fruit salad, Jill rattled on pleasantly about new developments at the police station and the amusing activities of her pompous boss.

“Honestly, Heather, he thinks he’s a television cop,” she giggled. “I really must take you down to the station sometime. You’d get such a laugh. Lieutenant Maxwell really is a fine man, but he takes everything completely seriously.”

Heather loosened up and enjoyed herself. She was cheerful and relaxed again when she returned to the office. Before they parted, Jill and Heather had made plans to meet for a movie that evening.

Heather worked closely with Adrian the rest of the afternoon. There seemed to be no end to the work. She rubbed her eyes, trying to keep his directions straight.

“Do you think you can handle all that?” he said finally.

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Heather looked up. His eyes were boring into her, and she suddenly felt like a specimen under a microscope. She pulled herself up and looked back at him. She felt the pulse in her neck throbbing. There was something in his look—a cold reserve, but also a strange searching light. For a wild fleeting moment she almost felt he was suspicious of her.

“Of course I can handle it,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.

He rose, and as he did so he brushed her arm with the back of his hand. The smooth, unconscious movement sent an electric vibration through her body. She struggled to regain her calm. It would hardly do for him to know how he had disturbed her.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said. He took his suit jacket from the corner rack. “I’m going out to look at the new site. Ross knows how to reach me.” And without a backward glance, his tall figure strode purposefully out of the room.

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Chapter ThreeHeather could come up with no reasonable

explanation for Adrian’s behavior. As far as she could tell, he did not treat other employees in the cool, indifferent way he treated her. And yet there was a sensuality about him, as if he were sending out signals to her, and insolent ones!

Heather was beginning to feel that it was something personal about her that no one would tell her. It was inconceivable to her that her work had been that bad. She had made very few mistakes since coming to Brook Petroleum, and in fact had brought an organization that had been sorely lacking.

She took a late afternoon walk in beautiful Hermann Park, to relax from her tiring day. Admiring one of the flower beds, she noticed a sandy-haired young man kneeling amongst them. He almost seemed to be talking to the flowers. Of course! It was Jill’s fiancé, David. Heather remembered how Jill had talked with pride of David’s dedication to his job and his talent for making things grow. She walked quickly up to him.

“David?”“He looked up. A smile of recognition broke

over his face. “Well, if it isn’t pretty Heather,” he said,

brushing the sand from his knees as he stood up. “I understand you’re whisking my girl away for the evening. Going to a movie, are you?”

“Yes, we’re planning to. We’d love for you to come along.”

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David smiled and shook his head. “Can’t, though I must admit spending an evening in the company of you two ladies is my idea of heaven on earth. I’ve got some catching up to do on these rose beds, and it’s best done in the cool of the evening. I need a break now, though. Let me show you around the park.”

He took her on a brief walking tour of some of the highlights of the park. Heather liked the grand size of it, and was particularly intrigued by the large outdoor theatre, where plays and operas were held all summer long. Finally she said goodbye to David and headed for home.

Heather and Jill had a delightful time at the movie. It was a romantic comedy starring the handsome young actor Kendrick Nye. As they walked to the adjoining parking lot afterward, Jill’s eyes were glittering. She turned to Heather.

“What do you think of that handsome hunk, eh?”

Heather blinked, not yet fully returned to the real world. “Oh, you mean Kendrick Nye, don’t you?”

A devilish gleam came into Jill’s eye. “Now who do you think I meant?”

Heather blushed a little and smiled. “Yes, he is a gorgeous man. Such beautiful dark hair. Almost like. . .” She stopped suddenly, and Jill flashed a look.

“Almost like Adrian Brook, eh?”“Well, yes, almost like Adrian Brook. But I was

really thinking of someone else,” she lied.Jill’s laugh told Heather she didn’t believe

her, but Heather didn’t really mind. Heather enjoyed her company, in spite of whatever delusions Jill might be cooking up about her and Adrian.

At least she told herself they were delusions. Though she tried to convince herself that it was only Adrian’s good looks that made her ill at ease, the

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strange way he looked at her when they were together was almost too much for her to bear.

Because of her position with the company she tried to please him, but he was alternately aloof and friendly, and she would frequently notice him looking at her with a questioning glance when he thought she didn’t see him. And always the hint of sensuality playing about the corners of his mouth when they were face to face; his magnetism as he looked her up and down with an appraising glance sent the blood racing through her veins.

Heather had been working for Brook Petroleum a few weeks when Margie Temple, the computer programmer, began to chat with her on coffee breaks and lunch breaks. Margie soon invited Heather over for dinner—her husband Sam made the best spaghetti in the world, she said, and Heather would have to try it.

It was an enjoyable evening, talking about the office, about Houston, and about Margie’s children. Margie wouldn’t talk about Adrian; every time Heather mentioned him she skillfully changed the subject.

Sam’s spaghetti was delicious. Sam was in his early forties, and very handsome. Margie deserved him—she was a tallish thirty-five or six, with polished manners, and she always seemed to know exactly the right thing to say. She was widely read, and could converse on any topic.

Finally when Heather said something about Adrian, Sam glanced at Margie and said:

“Don’t look now, but I think you’ve touched a sore spot with Margie. Not that she dislikes your boss, but . . . well, she and Adrian just don’t seem to see eye to eye on some things.”

The remark didn’t have any ill effect on the little dinner, but Heather refrained from mentioning Adrian the rest of the evening.

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She had been entertained royally, and the children were models of behavior. At their bedtime they came up to Heather one by one to wish her goodnight. The smallest, Timmy, was only three, and he gave her a little hug and then closed his eyes and pursed his lips for a kiss. Heather promptly fell for him.

Margie decided to take Heather as her confidante. She had fantasies about Adrian of all sorts, Every glance, every gesture of his would be to her a very subtle signal that he wanted her, or that he was falling for her charm.

She actually was a charming woman, but Adrian’s secret declarations of love were entirely concocted in her imagination.

“Look at this,” she said one day to Heather, holding out a paper with strange scribblings on it. It was from the writing pad on Adrian’s desk, and had the words, “Bagby,” and “McKinney,” written on it in Adrian’s bold hand.

“This is a sign to me, to meet him after work at Bagby and McKinney Streets. Don’t you see?”

“Are you sure?” asked Heather, trying not to smile.

“Of course. Can’t you see it for yourself? I’ve always thought he was in love with me, and was only waiting for the right opportunity.”

What could Heather do? Should she dash Margie’s hopes by telling her that City Hall was on Bagby at McKinney, and Adrian had business at City Hall that afternoon? Admittedly, there were lovely park benches by the reflection pool in front of the building, where young lovers often went in the afternoons.

Heather felt she had to say something. “City Hall is on Bagby at McKinney.”

“Of course, you dolt. Look at the time on this note: four thirty. This will be the love affair of the

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century.” She glanced around and turned quickly to Heather with a dramatic gesture:

“Not a word to anyone, do you hear?’“Mum’s the word,” said Heather, with her

hand on her heart.By now Heather and Jill had gotten into the

habit of stopping by one another’s apartments almost every evening. Heather found it to be a comforting ritual. Often David would join them, sipping iced tea and chatting, and sometimes the three would make sudden, spontaneous visits to the pool.

Jill and David were enjoyable to be around, and Heather found herself more and more in their company. Together the three would go to softball games and to the ice cream parlor, and Heather always insisted upon a “Dutch treat,” because she knew the pair was saving for their marriage.

Jill seemed to have her affairs of the heart in perfect order, and Heather thought that David was a wonderful match for her friend. Once in a while Jill would ask Heather what she thought about an outfit—whether she thought David would like it. Heather always gave her the best advice she could.

The two were chatting together one evening.“Tell me about your relationship with Adrian

Brook,” said Jill. “Do you have any idea that he might be interested in you? In a personal way, I mean.”

“I have a pretty good idea he’s not,” replied Heather. She had tried to avoid thinking on this subject herself till then, and told herself firmly she didn’t want any involvement with an arrogant man like him.

“Is there a woman in his life?”“I think so. Her name is Diana. I haven’t seen

her, but she calls for him a lot. He always drops everything else to talk to her.”

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Heather walked thoughtfully to the French doors that opened onto Jill’s deck. All the apartments in the high-rise building were exactly the same, but Heather realized that Jill’s apartment reflected her easy-going personality. Jill had a relaxed style all her own that always seemed exactly right. Maybe I need to learn how to relax, Heather thought to herself. Besides, she didn’t want any more questions about Adrian Brook.

“Let’s go for a swim,” she suggested, turning from the doors.

After their swim, they spent some time by the pool, sipping cool drinks. Except for themselves, the pool deck was empty, the other tenants having been driven indoors by the ragged heat.

Jill jumped up. “I’m famished,” she said. “Let’s get dressed and I’ll let you take me out to eat.”

Heather smiled. Jill always seemed to put life into a simpler perspective.

Heather was in Ross’s office one day trying to locate some of the older oil leases, when Ross noticed her studying the Malcolm Brook portrait on the wall. Never a man to mince words, Ross asked her point-blank:

“How are things with you and Adrian? I’ve noticed there is something strange between you two. I don’t know what it is, and of course Adrian won’t say anything about it. I thought you might, though.”

Heather put her papers aside and regarded him thoughtfully. “I wish I knew, Ross,” she said. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much. I . . . I don’t know why. I try to please him, but he makes me so nervous.”

Ross smiled. “You shouldn’t feel nervous, Heather. Adrian’s really an easy-going guy. One of the very finest people I know. He just seems a little intimidating at first. But you know, behind that reserve of his is a man who is almost a genius. He is

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a powerful man—not just because of his money, but because of his personal magnetism. He is an infallible judge of character and he knows how to delegate authority.

“I came to work for him just under two years ago,” he continued. “Of course I had a lot of business experience and I worked in the accounting department at a large bank for some years. But impressive credentials won’t make a man trust you like Adrian trusts me. He convinced his partner, Carlyle Slater, of my integrity. He virtually turned over his business to me, and he never questions my judgment.”

Ross paused and looked at Heather inquiringly. “He won’t talk about you. I was wondering if there was anything you did or said that might make him so reserved. Not that he dislikes you—I’m sure he doesn’t—but simply that you seem to have a strange, disquieting effect on him. Maybe I’m imagining it.”

Heather shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. That’s what I mean when I say he makes me nervous. He called me into his office the other day, and there was such a strange look on his face—he looked at me as if he’d never seen me before, and I’ve been here three months. I would expect him to be used to me by now and treat me as if I were . . . well, human. Something seems to bother him where I’m concerned.”

Adrian’s disdainful air seemed to Heather to be intended to make her dislike him, and it was having its effect. She loathed his superior air, his arrogance, although she didn’t venture to tell Ross as much.

Ross leaned back in his chair. “Maybe something is bothering Adrian,” he said. Obviously Ross was caught up in a certain idolatry of Adrian, and he would never countenance her opinion of him, so she held her tongue.

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Ross straightened up, and looking down at his work, said, “Heather, make sure you finish those two contracts for West Texas Oil this afternoon. I want them in the morning.”

He was dismissing her, and she knew he would talk no further. She was somewhat relieved, because she had been on the verge of showing her anger against Adrian.

So Ross had noticed Adrian’s attitude toward her, too, and it wasn’t just her imagination. Ross had said that Adrian didn’t dislike her, but if that were true, she couldn’t imagine how he did feel about her. Well, of course I don’t care, she thought, but obviously Ross knows something more about the situation. She knew Ross would say no more until he was ready, and it was no use probing.

When Heather reached the reception area, she saw a striking woman seated in one of the visitor’s chairs. Her short red hair was in the latest style, and her clothing was obviously custom tailored. She was closer to thirty than twenty five, and she carried an air of self-assurance and wealth that made Heather uneasy.

The woman looked Heather over thoroughly, not trying to hide her scrutiny. Heather saw her eyebrows arch slightly in almost imperceptible disdain.

“May I help you?” Heather asked, taking her seat. She felt rather shabby in the soft shirtwaist dress that had pleased her earlier. The woman apparently found her shabby, too. Heather avoided her gaze.

After a moment the woman answered, “Yes you can. I have a luncheon date with Adrian. Is he in?” The tone was innocent, but Heather felt it was meant to sting.

“He’ll be in soon,” she replied. She picked up her pencil and began jotting notes—inane things with no meaning. She heard a step in the hall, and

25

Adrian walked in. Her heart leapt within her and Heather realized that the other woman was watching for her reaction to Adrian’s arrival, which she felt helpless to conceal. She kept writing furiously.

“Ah, Adrian, my dear,” purred the woman.“Wonderful! You’re on time for once, Diana,”

said Adrian. He took her arm in his, patting her hand and smiling down at her. When they left together, Adrian hadn’t spoken a single word to Heather.

Anger welled within her. Full of painful, ridiculous jealousy, she threw down the pen--wanting to throw something really heavy—preferably at Diana’s pretty head, or at Adrian’s, she didn’t know which. He was so infuriating, so indifferent toward her, and yet . . . and yet she was sure, sometimes, when he looked at her, there was something other than dislike or suspicion in his expressive blue eyes.

Sometimes he seemed to relax in her presence, and then, far from hating him, Heather felt a sort of excitement. At times like this his voice reminded her of the warm sound of waves on a beach in the nighttime, and Heather felt that there was something delicious and indescribable in his heart.

And now, this woman, this stunning woman dripping with confidence and obvious wealth—surely Adrian found her beautiful and exciting. Heather gritted her teeth, confused, angry at Adrian, angry with herself for daring to suppose, even subconsciously, that such a man as Adrian Brook could ever have more than a vaguely friendly interest in her.

When he returned to the office late that afternoon, Adrian wore a more relaxed look than she had ever seen in him. He was friendly and charming, and Heather steeled herself against him. It was Diana’s influence that softened his eyes and

26

brought a smile to his sensitive lips—a smile that Heather could only interpret as condescension toward her.

Over the next few days it seemed to Heather that Adrian threw himself into his work. He would appear at the office at odd hours of the day, only to rush in and shut his door, speaking in monosyllables. Or he would stay away from the office entirely. In a strange way, Heather felt that somehow she was partly responsible for his erratic behavior, though in what way she could hardly guess.

Suddenly she realized that even though she had been working for one of the most successful oil operators in the business, she knew almost nothing about the actual drilling process.

“Ross tells me that you’re quite an expert on the oil leases,” Adrian remarked one day. It was an unexpected compliment, and Heather felt a little glow of pride.

But he had not finished. “How could you possibly know anything about the business at all? I doubt that you’ve ever even seen a drilling rig.”

He gave a short laugh and disappeared into his office. She felt her cheeks grow hot.

By the next day she had made up her mind. She wouldn’t be treated like a greenhorn any more. That might go far toward explaining Adrian’s coolness to her, that and . . . a small lump came to her throat . . . that and Diana.

Ross let Heather take off work a little early the next day. The day was pleasant and clear, and she enjoyed the pre-rush hour drive out the Southwest Freeway. She passed the exit for the shopping center, and then it was a few more exits to the new drilling site.

As she pulled up she noted with a certain pride the large metal sign on the gate:

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BROOK PETROLEUM

A man in dirt-streaked jeans and a hard hat stood by the gate. Beyond were several temporary buildings.

Heather identified herself and he swung the gate open. He started walking toward one of the temporary buildings as if he expected her to follow, but she was engrossed in the sight of the drilling rig.

Several men were milling about near the large platform, and she thought she recognized Adrian, although she was still too far away to tell. She had opened her car door slightly, but now she decided to drive on down the sandy road that led closer to the rig. She parked next the workmen’s cars.

The afternoon sun was huge and red, flirting with the few clouds in the sky, and, sure enough, there was Adrian’s bronze figure silhouetted against the haze.

He couldn’t have been more than thirty feet from her, and as he stood there talking to one of the foremen she noted that he had jeans on and his shirt was unbuttoned. With his hard hat on his profile reminded her of Cellini’s bronze figure of Perseus.

Adrian hadn’t noticed her yet. He was turned to watch the steel sinking dozens of yards into the earth, thirsting for black gold. Heather felt as if she would burst with excitement. She quietly shut the car door and walked quickly toward him, her blond locks glistening, caught by the brilliant rays of the sun.

How powerful and important Adrian looked, confidently supervising the drilling out on his field. Suddenly he turned. He noticed her with a look of surprise, at first a friendly look. Then his face contorted in an expression of anger, teeth clenched.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he shouted. “You little fool, you need a hard hat! You could be

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killed. Get out of here!” He moved toward her menacingly.

With a feeling of panic, Heather was rooted in her tracks. Blindly she turned and ran, stumbling, toward her car. She reached the car and flung herself over the wheel.

Tears stinging her eyes, her mind whirling with confusion, she dissolved into sobs. Why did he shame her like this? Of course she was at fault; she should have followed the workman to get as hard hat. Her pent-up frustrations welled up within her, to be released in a stream of tears.

Suddenly she felt a strong hand on her shoulder, pulling her up from the steering wheel, and, blinded by her tears, she felt warm, passionate lips on hers. It was almost a vision through her tears of Adrian, clasping her with his strong arms, his lips demanding fulfillment.

She heard him saying her name, muttering words of comfort. Too helpless from her emotional stress to fight, and as if in a dream, she responded, clutching at his hard body.

Suddenly, shocked by what she was doing, she pushed him away with all her strength.

“No! No, let go of me!” she cried.Adrian seemed frozen by her outburst. Her

hands flew to her burning cheeks in shame. Without giving him a chance to say anything, she flung herself back into her car seat and slammed the door. The car leapt into motion toward the open gate. Directly in front of her was the sign she had missed on the way in:

HARD HAT AREANO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT PROPER

HEADGEAR

Heather felt the misery of utter defeat.

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30

Chapter FourHeather was somehow able to find her way

home through the traffic, and after what had seemed hours dropped, disconsolate, on her bed, tears still caressing her reddened cheeks.

Why had she been foolish enough to even go out to the oil field? What was the explanation of Adrian’s rude embrace? Somehow it served to confirm her suspicions about him.

She stared, unseeing, at the ceiling. Over and over she relived the miserable scene. When she had seen Adrian it had made her oblivious to everything except his beauty, his magnificent masculine figure etched against the sky. She remembered the hot breeze stirring her hair as she watched Adrian on the oil field and the majestic sight of the huge

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drilling platform. She touched her fingers to her lips and remembered his insolent kiss. Why had she responded as she did?

Forget it, she told herself weakly. Forget all about it. Yet the shame returned to nag her. She dreaded going to work the next day. How could she face Adrian in her embarrassment?

Adrian didn’t appear at the office the next day. Heather tried to make light of the incident to Ross by saying simply that she had mistakenly gone on the field without protection. And of course no one else in the office knew of her visit to the oil field. She wondered if Ross could tell from her demeanor how shaken she was by the rude encounter with Adrian. If he had noticed, he was able to hide it.

At lunch, Heather wondered in exasperation how long things could keep getting worse. Her car, which had developed an unhealthy pinging noise of late, suddenly gave up the ghost and refused to respond to her repeated efforts to make it run. The vehicle had brought her to a restaurant for lunch, but now, like a stubborn donkey, refused to carry her back to the office. As a last resort, she was forced to rely on Jill’s kindness for a ride back to work, and arranged for the car to be towed to the repair shop.

It was terribly inconvenient, and Heather knew that she was taking Jill away from her work. But Jill seemed not to mind, and Heather was glad of the chance to discuss her misgivings about Adrian with Jill, although she didn’t divulge the whole story of her encounter.

The following morning, Jill and David brought her to work. Heather’s car would be ready at five thirty, and David offered to drop her by the repair shop. Adjusting her own schedule to that of her friends, she arrived at the office early, to arrange her own plans for the day’s business as she always did first thing before starting coffee.

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She heard a slight noise behind her and turned abruptly. There stood Adrian, almost at her shoulder. He heart seemed to stop for a moment. She hadn’t seen him since that awful scene at the field, and here he was facing her.

“Oh,” she exclaimed.“I hope I didn’t frighten you,” he said.She couldn’t tell from his tone whether he was

referring to his unexpected presence, to his shouted warnings on the oil site, or to his impetuous kiss. She felt her face flush.

“No, it’s nothing,” she mutteredHe was evidently looking for some documents,

for he went over to the file cabinet and began leafing through the files.

“You keep these very neat and up to date,” he said.

"I . . . I try my best.” Again she felt a warm glow, this time from pride in her work rather than embarrassment. As he stood there going through the files, she pretended to arrange her already arranged desk. It gave her an opportunity to study him more closely.

His eyes shone with a rich luster that reminded Heather of a highly polished vase. She found herself recalling the warmth of his lips on hers. There was sensuous curve to his lips, a perfect fullness that spoke to Heather of passion. That much was obvious, but otherwise he was a hard man to read. She was puzzled by this man, this enigma for whom she felt at one moment a loathing, at the next a desire.

Groping for the right words, she decided to try to find out how he felt about her and why he sometimes regarded her with what she could only interpret as enmity. It might lead to an explanation of his rude embrace, which she was too embarrassed to refer to. She had to know the

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answers, in spite of his stern arrogance. Her temples throbbed.

“Adrian,” she said carefully.“Yes?” again that searching look.“I . . . I just . . .” Feeling confused by her

emotions, she couldn’t go on. “I just wondered if there was anything I could find for you in the files.”

“As a matter of fact, there is,” he said, slamming shut the cabinet drawer. “Where in blazes is the contract for West Texas Oil?”

“Oh. It’s here on my desk,” she stammered.He grabbed the contract, and, leafing through

the pages, stalked away toward Ross’s office.Heather was startled by his sudden change of

humor. Was this what Ross meant when he said she had a strange effect on Adrian? Could she have been responsible for his sudden change in mood?

She was hardly able to keep her mind on her work that day. She kept mulling over her various encounters with Adrian, none of which seemed to indicate that he bore her any good will at all. And she certainly bore him none. Just when she thought he was becoming a little friendly, he always seemed to turn that strange questioning glance on her and often ended up with an almost hostile remark.

And then there had been that delirious kiss—the thought of it sent a thrill through her body. Would he try to press his advantage over her as her employer? Heather wondered about his appetites. Would he try to force her into a sexual encounter?

On the other hand, she knew that in spite of their mutual caustic attitude and her struggle to remain aloof, she was falling more and more under his spell. He seemed to have a magical fascination, and when she was near him she would notice his perfectly shaped face and his rugged muscular frame under his shirt. At times like this she felt almost faint, overpowered by his male magnetism.

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The growing strength of her emotions left her more confused than ever.

And now there was the added problem of Bob Owens. Bob was the mail clerk and delivery man who acted as a liaison between the office and the field most of the time. He also helped with the bookkeeping, and was majoring in accounting at the University of Houston.

Bob was enamored of Heather. He was a little too shy to ask her out, but her senses told her that he was only waiting for the right opportunity. He was a nice enough fellow, but he seemed a bit immature.

Bob came into the reception area from Ross’s hall, and Heather knew he was going to say something to her. He cleared his throat and she could envision him reading from a prepared script when he spoke.

“Heather, there is something I want to ask you.”“Yes, Bob?”“If you are not doing anything this evening I

wondered if I might take you out to . . . to dinner.”Heather smiled inwardly. She was on the point

of accepting his invitation, simply because he was being so sweet about it and she felt a little sorry for him, but then she thought of Jane Harley, the part-time office typist, who was secretly pining for Bob. It would crush Jane. And suddenly Adrian’s image came before her eyes and she was caught off guard. She put her hand on Bob’s arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Bob. I’ll be too busy this evening. Nice of you to ask, though. Maybe some other time.”

Bob blushed slightly and retreated a couple of steps. “Okay,” he muttered, and shifted his glance to just behind Heather.

She realized that Adrian was standing near her elbow. He didn’t say a word, but turned abruptly and went back to his office.

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The incident unnerved her. It wasn’t as if she felt one way or another toward Bob Owens—in fact, she rather liked him. When he wasn’t trying to be romantic he had a natural sense of humor. He loved to do imitations of people and it always brought a laugh from the office staff, including Adrian and especially Jane Harley. Jane was nineteen, and Heather knew that she was sweet on Bob, but he didn’t seem to know she existed.

Heather was a little put out that Adrian had overseen her and Bob, as if he were a puppeteer pulling strings. And she realized with irritation that she had answered Bob just the way Adrian had wanted her to.

It was a long and tiring day, but when the rest of the staff had gone, Heather still had some work to do. David wouldn’t be in to pick her up for a while.

She wasn’t sure if Adrian was still in the building—he often stayed until everyone else had gone home. But then she heard his office door open. He had loosened his tie, and as he came up to her desk he smiled.

“Well, it’s been a long day for you, hasn’t it?” he said.

She felt giddy. “Yes, it has,” she ventured. She was too tired to fight against him. “I don’t mind, though, because I feel I’ve accomplished some things.”

He sat lightly on one corner of her desk. His face was close to hers, and his blue eyes seemed to look through her into the depths of her soul.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said in his rich baritone. “What brought all the way to Houston from—let’s see, was it Philadelphia?”

“Pittsburgh,” she volunteered.“Oh, yes, I remember now. Ross said it was

Pittsburgh. The ‘steel city.’ I suppose you miss the big rivers and bridges of Pittsburgh. Here in Houston we have several bayous and the ship

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channel. We call Houston ‘Baghdad on the bayou.’” He smiled. “But of course it’s not the same. Tell me, do you like Houston by now?”

“Well, I . . . I mean, yes, I do.” she blurted, feeling heady from his nearness. She collected her composure. “Everyone here seems very friendly.”

“You seem to get along well with everyone here at the office. Even Carlyle,” he said with a little grin.

She smiled in return. “I hope so. Margie and I are good friends.”

“Have you met Sam? He’s a swell fellow.”“Yes, he is. And the children. I love children

anyway. I suppose you know little Timmy—he’s such a sweetheart.”

“Heather, I want to explain about the other day on the oil field,” he began.

“Oh you needn’t explain,” she said, and immediately rued her remark.

Adrian was on the point of continuing, but at that moment the rays of the late afternoon sun through the blinds fell on Heather’s golden hair, giving it a rich sheen.

“O soave fanciulla,” he said softly. She smiled up at him.

“My Italian is not the greatest,” she said. “But that’s a quote, isn’t it? Let’s see . . . Puccini?”

“Yes,” he replied, “from La Bohème.” It means, ‘Oh, sweet girl.’ It implies beauty. And you are beautiful. Your hair reminds me of . . .”

He stopped and looked away. A pensive mood fell over him. It was only momentary, and he looked back, searching her green eyes. With a natural gesture he put his hand on her shoulder and she could feel the warmth of his tough through her soft cambric blouse.

Forgotten was the remark she had overheard in Ross’s office, forgotten the rude incident on the oil field. With little warning her senses reacted to the

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touch of his hand, and she longed to feel his arms envelop her. She realized that in an instant he would kiss her. His lips parted slightly and his eyes bored into her, searching, asking, demanding.

Suddenly they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway from the back parking lot entrance. The sound drew Heather back to the present, and the spell was broken. Adrian drew away from her as David came around the corner, whistling softly.

“Oh, David,” she spluttered, “it’s you.”“None other,” replied David cheerfully, “and

may I say that you look exceptionally lovely, even after a hard day at the office.”

Heather glanced up as Adrian retreated from her desk, and she noticed his taut jaw. As he stood up from the desk Heather sensed a felling of conflict in his frame.

“Adrian, I’d like you to meet my friend David Lynde,” was all she could say.

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Chapter FiveIt was evident to David that he had interrupted

something—he noticed something in the air. But he was the sort who always put people at ease. He and Adrian shook hands, then he glanced at his watch.

“I’m afraid my golden chariot will turn into a pumpkin if we’re much later,” he said to Heather. “I’m sorry we have to hurry, Mr. Brook.”

“Yes,” said Adrian, and without a glance at Heather he turned on his heels and strode into his office.

As David hurried her to the car, Heather realized she had made a blunder. Why hadn’t she said that David was Jill’s fiancé? But then she told herself that Adrian couldn’t for a moment have suspected there was anything between her and David—no, it wasn’t possible.

That night as she lay listening to the quiet hum of the air conditioner, she relived those moments when Adrian had been obviously drawn to her and she had been swept away by her emotions. She could only guess that he wanted to add her to his list of conquests. After all, Adrian Brook could have his choice of women—the only interest he could have in her must be sexual.

But he had actually been jealous of David. Well, of course she could tell him that David is Jill’s fiancé. But what right had Adrian Brook to be jealous of David or any other of Heather’s friends? That haughty manner of his was simply an example of his Texas pride, his possessiveness. She certainly would not crawl to him and show her weakness. Let him stew.

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Tradition dictated that the upcoming Labor Day weekend would be ushered in with a small party for Brook Petroleum employees and their guests. Heather wanted to go to the party, but then on the other hand she was almost afraid to go, because she knew her emotions were on her sleeve when it came to Adrian and his searching, almost demanding glances, his strong physique, and his dominant personality.

Over and over she told herself that he didn’t matter to her. To her he just represented another authority figure in a confused world of moving visions. But she was always reminded by the way her skin tingled when she thought about him that he was a personality to be reckoned with, a driving force in her life, and she couldn’t ignore him, couldn’t talk herself out of an intense feeling toward him, whether of love or hate she wasn’t able to decide.

In the end she knew she had to go to the party, if only because of her duty to her fellow employees. Margie would never forgive her if she didn’t show up. Sam would be there. He and Margie made a perfect couple, in Heather’s opinion. But Heather would have to be there to run interference for Margie. On the one hand Margie would be watching for any small sign from Adrian that she could interpret as a love token, on the other hand she wouldn’t want Sam to know how infatuated Margie was with Adrian. Heather felt she could help avert a potentially embarrassing situation by just being close by to say the right thing at the right time.

She suspected that Jane Harley was almost depending on her to help her draw Bob Owens out. It was amusing to see how Jane perked up when Bob came into the office. Bob spent about half his time at the office, the other half between the field and supply houses. Heather may have been the only one to notice how Jane’s attitude changed when Bob

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came in, although she knew Margie was aware of the situation. But Margie had her own dreams to think about.

It was after work the next day in the parking lot that Margie said, “You are coming tonight, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Heather assured her. She could see that her friend was anxious that she be there. “I’m afraid I’ll have to come alone, though. You’re bringing Sam, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I don’t see any way out of it,” Margie replied dryly. “He and Adrian always have lots to talk about.”

Heather knew Margie was only acting when she implied that she and Sam were on the outs. Margie was aware of her own charade, and didn’t actually think she was fooling Heather. She and Sam were very happy together. Furthermore, Adrian seemed to have a lot of respect and friendship for Sam, who, Heather remembered, was excellent company.

“I don’t know why you have to come alone,” said Margie. “With your looks, I would think men would be battling their way to your door.”

“Oh, there are dozens,” Heather replied, batting her eyes. “It’s just that none of them are my type.”

She had never thought of herself as especially attractive, and there certainly weren’t dozens of men battling their way to her door. But thinking back she had to admit that several of the young men in her apartment building had shown a friendly interest in her, especially a law student named Charlie Oakes, who lived on the third floor. Charlie was an easy-going fellow, very nice, and a terrific swimmer. But he was always busy.

“Well, I might bring someone, then,” said Heather. She noticed Margie raise an eyebrow. “But don’t be surprised if I come alone.”

“Just the same,” said Margie, “you had better show up, with or without an escort.” She opened

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her car door. “Oh, it’s not that kind of party, anyway. You’ll have a good time.”

Heather knew Margie felt sorry for her because she didn’t have someone like Sam—or like Adrian, for that matter. What an odd thought. A little shiver went down her spine. Margie could never accept the idea of Heather and Adrian together. But still it was an exciting idea.

Heather dressed for the party in her black pants outfit. It had a loose fitting top of chiffon with turquoise trim that set off the tighter-fitting black pants. She curled her hair and then brushed it out till it cascaded in blond waves across her shoulders. Then she applied a brown eye shadow and a light foundation. The party was to be outdoors, and the sun would still be high in the sky, but as the evening wore on they would use artificial light, and she didn’t want to take any chances on her complexion fading. She decided to wear gold sandals with medium heels, and finally flipped on a pair of elegant gold earrings.

She stepped back to view her handiwork in the mirror. She had to admit the effect was rather stunning. But unfortunately it was all for nothing. The man she wanted to impress, as she realized was Adrian himself, and he would probably not even notice her. She sighed.

Charlie, her law student, would have been glad to take Heather to the party. He was continually asking her for dates, but she always declined, simply because she always seemed to have prior plans. Charlie worked as an assistant to one of the more colorful trial lawyers in Houston, and was full of interesting stories about goings-on in the courtroom. But his work kept him busy, and Heather couldn’t find him this afternoon. He was the only one of the local swains she knew well enough to take as an escort. For a wild moment she thought of calling Bob Owens, who would have jumped at the chance

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to take her to the party. Oh, wouldn’t that make Adrian hot under the collar! But she knew she couldn’t go with Bob and keep her friendship with Jane. And she couldn’t afford to make any enemies.

There was just no way around it, Heather was going to the party alone. And she would have a good time.

Everybody was expected to bring a side dish to the party, and Heather chose to take her Aunt Rita’s salad recipe. It was sure to be a hit.

Festivities got under way at seven, but Heather was about a half hour late. They held the party in the patio in back of the Brook Petroleum building. As Heather came up with her bowl of potato salad, Ross Dixon and his wife Annie detached themselves from a small cluster of people who were standing close to the grills.

Annie Dixon was a small, pleasant woman, a little on the stout side, but her distinctive manner drew attention away from her figure. Her lips were very red naturally, so she didn’t wear lipstick at all. She was always smiling, and her moon-shaped face under the huge shock of frizzy hair would have seemed ludicrous if it weren’t for the warmth and sincerity of her manner.

“Heather, you’ve come just in time,” she said, taking Heather’s bowl to one of the tables. “Come over here and let me introduce you to my son.” She plucked slightly at Heather’s sleeve, leading her over to one of the lawn chairs that dotted the yard by the small tennis court adjoining the patio.

“Well, another one of Adrian’s beauties, I see,” said the young man who was lolling on the chair as he rose and extended his hand. His indolent look bespoke a devil-may-care attitude. “Is this the one called Heather Dad’s always talking about, Mother?”

Heather learned quite a lot about Frank Dixon in a few minutes, because he spoke of little else. He

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pointed his wife out to Heather: a small, brown-haired young woman, intent on her tennis game.

“So I’m another one of Adrian’s beauties, am I?” said Heather, when Frank had exhausted the subject of his autobiography, and was trying to think of something else to say. “I don’t think I quite qualify for the designation. But you make it seem as if Adrian kept a harem.”

“Of course you qualify. If I may say so, you are an extremely beautiful woman.”

Heather didn’t quite know how to reply, and there was a moment of awkward silence.

“You might say Adrian keeps a harem, as you put it,” continued Frank. “He is wealthy, and he always surrounds himself with beautiful women.”

“But you certainly can’t lump me into that sort of thing,” replied Heather, a little shocked. “I work for Brook Petroleum, yes, but actually I work more for your father than for Adrian.” She narrowed her eyes. “If you’re implying something about my character, I think I should resent it.”

“Oh, nothing about your character. I’ve hardly met you.” He smiled. “I meant to imply something about Adrian’s character. Here, let me show you—I’ll prove it to you,” he said, glancing around among the guests. “Where is Adrian?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I haven’t seen him,” she replied. “I’ve just arrived myself.”

“There he is,” said Frank, looking beyond Heather. “I told you he surrounds himself with beautiful women.”

Heather turned and saw Adrian at the other end of the patio. At that moment he caught sight of her, and her heart leapt as he made a slight gesture with his hand as if to wave. But a woman by his side caught his arm and said something to him.

“You see what I mean?” said Frank.Heather glanced back at the woman by Adrian’s

side, and noticed her beautiful red hair. It was

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Diana, the woman Heather had seen at the office, the same woman Adrian had taken to lunch just a few days ago. Heather was too far away to hear what Diana whispered, but not too far away to catch the withering look Diana threw in her direction. Heather remembered the cold and derisive looks she had gotten that day at the office.

Adrian appeared to be expostulating with Diana, but then he made a gesture of resignation and followed her around the corner of the building toward the parking lot.

“Well, it looks like dear Adrian is more interested in chasing the redhead than the blonde this time,” said Frank with a sarcastic tone.

Heather didn’t feel his remark deserved an answer. She excused herself and went over to take a glass of lemonade. Margie and Sam greeted her.

“I see you’ve met Frank,” said Sam. “What do you think of him?”

“I . . . I don’t quite know how to take him.”“He’s a little hard to figure out,” said Sam.

“He’s a very successful real estate broker, working out of Atlanta. He’s just here for a short while, according to Ross. You probably noticed his drawl?”

“Yes, I wondered about that,” said Heather. “Ross certainly doesn’t have that southern accent.”

“Frank picked it up in Georgia and Alabama,” put in Margie. “Ross sent him to an academy in Alabama when he was thirteen, and he has lived in the Deep South most of the time since then. That’s why Annie makes such a fuss over him when he comes to Houston. He’s not really a bad sort, he’s just a little spoiled because he’s always had everything he wants. Besides that, he’s been very lucky in his line of work—and he’s good at it.”

Heather glanced over at Frank, who was still sitting on the lawn chair. He was watching his wife at her tennis game. Heather thought what a contrast he was to Adrian. Both successful men, but

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from what she had learned of Frank, he was nothing like Adrian—Adrian, a leader in his field, well-liked by everyone, a dynamic personality, who still had a certain privacy about him. On the other hand, Frank, as far as she could tell, was sarcastic and indolent. He was not only different from Adrian, but also from his father, who was a model to be admired. But perhaps Heather was jumping to conclusions because of the sarcastic way Frank had spoken about Adrian.

Heather glanced around and suddenly realized she was in the center of a little knot of people, including Sam and Margie, and other people from the data processing control room, and Ross and his wife. There was Bob Owens, and—she quickly searched through the crowd—sure enough, there was Jane, looking at Bob from the corner of her eye.

Adrian had gone away with that woman, that auburn-haired woman who looked so perfect, so untouchable, whose sardonic manner Heather could never forget. She had latched onto Adrian and pulled him away from his guests, before he had even greeted Heather. But perhaps he wouldn’t have wanted to greet her except simply to acknowledge her presence.

The crowd of people and the noise seemed to be stifling her, sights and sounds swam in her head, and she had to get away. She turned and made her way out of the circle of people exchanging small talk—people who were unaware of the confusion and turmoil in her breast. An urgency impelled her across the smooth paving stones of the patio, and she walked onto the path that led into the wooded area in back of the building. She had to have fresh air and breathing space.

Heather slowed her pace as she noticed the beauties of the vegetation that bordered the path. There were small flowering plants with tiny petals—lavenders—and several varieties of trees mingling

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among the grass and fallen leaves that seemed to form a carpet over the ground. As she walked along the path she occasionally saw the trunk of an old tree covered with delicate, soft green moss.

It was almost a fairy world that Heather had stepped into, and she had to remind herself that she was still only a few yards from a bustling gathering of dozens of people, who now were faded from her view because of the several turns in the path.

The path itself was not well kept. Brown leaves covered it in most places, and here and there Heather had to step over a hillock of grass, a tree root, or a fallen log. But to Heather’s eye the place was irresistible in its charm. Orderly and regular patches of grass, green mingled with brown, set off by little pebbles lining the path, would give way to a dense profusion of flowering plants, irregular bushes and trees, clumps of pampas grass with their sharp blades and silvery-white plumes, and a twisting of the path that would almost obliterate it. The rampant beauty of the grotto was like a paradise in which Heather could lose herself forever. Looking around, she delighted that somehow in a modern and busy world this spot had retained its primitive beauty.

Heather bent over to feel the moss on one of the large tree trunks. The moss was alive and green, and it felt strange to her touch, unlike anything she had ever felt before.

Then she heard a step behind her. She straightened up and turned, and as she did so she tripped over a root that had grown across the path.

Strong arms caught her as she fell, and she turned her head to look up into Adrian’s face.

“Well, so it’s Heather, the beautiful girl with flaxen hair, here among the wild beauties of nature.” His lips parted slightly in a smile. “And I’ve rescued you from what might have been a nasty fall.”

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He kept his hand clasped firmly about her waist, and she could feel his breath on her cheek. Her hand was on his muscular arm, but he made no move to release his hold on her.

“Did you come to my party just to lure me into the woods?” he said in a bantering tone. His words were light, but she knew there was a seriousness underlying them.

“Oh, no, I thought you had gone,” she replied. “And I had no wish to take you away from your pretty guest.”

“I only left the merriment for a few minutes. You noticed my absence, though. It proves that beauty can go hand in hand with keen observation. So you didn’t intend to lure me in here.”

“No, I came here to try to collect my thoughts. Actually I . . . I find the place very beautiful.”

“Most people object to the irregularity and solitude of this little wood.” Adrian swept one hand around to indicate the profuse growth of vegetation, but kept his other arm firmly around her waist. “For myself, I find it refreshing.”

She didn’t try to pull away, feeling secure leaning against his chest with his arm around her.

“But it’s more refreshing to find you here,” he said, looking into her eyes. “You lend a taming beauty to the wildness of the place.” He whispered in her ear, and she realized he was admiring her figure, all the more revealed by the provocative black pants and filmy blouse.

“Adrian, I don’t think I ought to . . .” She made a feeble attempt to push away from him, but he pulled her close. His lips just brushed her hair, and he looked deeply into her eyes.

“Why do you torment me with your beauty?” he said in a husky voice. “Since you’ve come into my life, I can find no peace. I can’t resist you.”

“You seemed able to resist me when your redhead was around,” she said, pulling away from

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his strong embrace. Immediately she longed for him to take her back into his arms.

Instead he dropped his hand, and with a little shrug of the shoulder, said, “So those lovely green eyes, soft as a doe’s the one moment, can flash fire the next. Do I detect a hint of jealousy?” There was a trace of mockery in his voice, and he flashed her a completely candid and irresistible smile, which caught her off guard.

“Not jealousy, only neglect. That is, I think . . . I think we’re neglecting the merry gathering. They will surely be wondering where the man of the hour is.” She loosed his hand and turned up the path toward the patio, reaching the clearing before he did.

So here you are,” said Jane Harley, as Heather appeared among the crowd. The party was in full swing. “Get a steak off the grill, and come sit with me,” said Jane.

Heather smiled as she came over to Jane’s table with her plate. Ross was sitting beside Jane, with Bob Owens across from him. He and Bob were in an animated conversation.

“I’ve brought some dessert,” said Jane. “You’ll have to try it. But before you do, you have to taste this potato salad. It’s delicious.”

Heather chuckled with satisfaction. “Of course it is. It’s my potato salad. She arched her brow and tried to look smug. “It’s a secret recipe, handed down in my family for centuries.” She glanced around with a conspiratorial look, which sent Jane into peals of laughter.

“Now you remind me of Margie,” said Jane in a whisper, and they laughed together again.

Something diverted Heather’s attention, and she looked across the table. Adrian had seated himself across from her, and he was looking her over with a frank, appraising look. As she caught his eye, he smiled and lifted his glass very slightly to

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her, and his smile thrilled her with a secret intimacy. It was almost a pledge, a bond between them, her among the gay party. No one knew of their intimate but entirely accidental meeting in the wood. Or was it accidental? Heather blushed.

Adrian leaned over and whispered to Heather and Jane. “Don’t look now, but there’s my chief critic.” He nodded toward the far end of the table to where Frank Dixon was sitting with his wife. Adrian obviously didn’t want to hurt Ross’s feelings, but Heather suspected that Ross knew all about Frank’s animosity toward Adrian.

Adrian grinned a little and said, “Frank is actually a very nice fellow when you get to know him.” He looked over at Ross. “How’s you boy doing in Atlanta, Ross?”

“Oh, very well, Adrian,” said Ross. “He has a new development, and a large one, in the suburbs now, and it’s going strong. He’s only been working on it about a year now.”

They looked over at Frank, who realized he was the subject of attention. He gave a little smile.

“Hi, Frank,” said Adrian. “We were just talking about you. I hear your new venture is going well.”

“Oh, yes it is, thank you,” said Frank, with a sheepish grin. “By the way, we’re enjoying the party immensely, Adrian. Thanks for inviting us.” Even Frank was charmed by Adrian’s friendly manner, and in a flash it came to Heather that Frank’s sarcastic tone was actually a cover-up for his genuine admiration for Adrian.

The party was coming to a close. Adrian rose from the table, and immediately a group of people clustered around him. He was like a magnet, drawing everything to him. It made Heather feel small and insignificant.

Adrian walked over toward the serving table with a small knot of people crowding around. But no one noticed when he leaned quickly over to

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Heather as they passed and said in a little whisper, “I have to tell you, your potato salad is very tasty.”

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Chapter SixFor several days Heather had seen envelopes in

Adrian’s morning mail with the imprint “D. van Horne,” and had simply assumed they were from a business associate. But one morning ash she was collecting the mail for the offices she paused over this one and noticed the almost unmistakable aroma of Chanel No. 5.

That was the perfume Diana had worn! Of course—these were letters from Diana van Horne. She hastily put the letter in the letter tray with the others for Adrian. How she wished she could open it and read it. If only she knew what sort of hold Diana had on him.

But then it might be that it was the other way around. She could very well be a part of his “Stable.” It was likely that there were dozens of women just waiting in line for his attentions. Well, Heather Sinclair won’t form a part of that retinue, she told herself.

That morning, Adrian came out to Heather’s desk with a thin briefcase in his hand.

“You can use this,” he said. “I want you to gather up some note paper and a memo pad, along with several copies of our mineral rights leases and some standard contracts. You and I are going to close a property deal.”

“We’re driving out to Diana van Horne’s,” he said as they left the parking lot. “You know Diana, I suppose?”

“I’ve only seen her at the office and briefly at the party.” She gave him a suggestive glance. She

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wanted to add that Diana impressed her as a stuffed shirt, but held her tongue.

“Well, she is now a business associate,” he returned, with a little shrug of his shoulder. “In fact, that’s why we’re going over to her house—I intend to close the agreement today. I’m contracting to drill on some of her property.”

Adrian concentrated on his driving. The traffic was not dense, but the Houston freeways seemed to come together in a deliberate maze, one superstructure piled on to of another.

Heather glanced over at him. The contour of his nose and mouth in profile was classic in beauty. The sun picked out tiny highlights of red in his deep brown hair.

Watching him, she was transported back to that moment when he had come so close to kissing her at the office. She could almost feel his lips on hers, and she remembered how she had responded to him on the oil field. It was obvious why Margie was in love with him—what woman wouldn’t be?

She decided to throw caution to the wind and tell him just who David was. At least there wouldn’t be any obstacle in his way, and she certainly could refuse him if her worst suspicions were true, if he were only looking for a fling.

But just at that moment he turned into a driveway and all her plans of a personal talk were dashed to the ground. They were approaching Diana van Horne’s home, and Heather was arrested by its beauty.

Spanish moss hung from the oaks and sweet gum trees that bordered the long drive up to the house. The driveway led up a gentle incline to terminate in an archway of willow trees that bordered the open parking in front of the house, before meandering down into the bustling street once more. It widened and circled in front of the house to open onto the wide, ground-level porch of

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russet flagstones nestled under the huge round columns of the house.

The brick parking area adjoined the flagged porch, which was cut in the center by a huge arched double door of natural-finish oak, and as they stepped out of Adrian’s Jaguar onto the red brick driveway, Heather caught her breath at the lovely, old-world charm of the house.

“The van Hornes have lived here for over a century,” Adrian told her as he rang the bell. “The original house was built in the early nineteenth century before Texas became independent from Mexico.”

I won’t be drilling on this property, though,” he chuckled, indicating the wide expanse of the estate with a sweep of his hand. “Diana owns some land between here and San Antonio that I’ve had some geological tests run on, and I plan to do some wildcatting out there. What we’ll do this morning is only a formality to acquire the mineral rights.”

The butler, whom Adrian addressed as Morris, had barely shown them into the foyer when Diana swept in, her long white taffeta morning dress flowing.

“Hello, darling,” she said, eyeing Adrian from head to foot. Then she noticed Heather. “I see you’ve brought your office help.”

“Yes, Diana, this is Heather Sinclair. She does most of my paperwork, and I couldn’t get along without her.” He cut his dark eyes around to glance admiringly at Heather.

She extended her hand to Diana, who instead of grasping it, feigned a little cough and put her hand to her mouth.

Never a hair out of place, thought Heather, miffed. Here in this lovely home, she is almost like one of the decorations.

“Yes,” said Diana, turning back to Adrian. “You surely won’t have to run back to that old office right

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away, will you? At least you can stay to lunch, you and your little helper.” She smiled sweetly. “Morris, tell mother that dear Adrian is here.”

She was obviously a woman accustomed to taking charge and getting her way. Heather wondered how far she pushed her dominance with Adrian, and whether he actually liked the sort of treatment she handed out.

There was no doubt about it, Diana was an extremely beautiful woman, and Heather could easily imagine that Adrian might be under the spell of her charm. As she showed Adrian and Heather into the spacious living room, she pointed out some of her objets d’art, commenting with pride on some of the pieces she had acquired on her most recent trip to Morocco. Heather could not help remarking her polished manners.

“Well, of course we can stay to lunch,” said Adrian, having received a nod from Heather. “But I think we ought to take care of our business first.”

He led the way over to a leather-covered desk that stood in the large hall just off the living room. “I’ll need the lease forms and contracts,” he said to Heather as he sat down.

Heather sat on a small love seat near the desk, jotting down occasional notes at Adrian’s instructions. Diana had pulled up a chair on the other side of Adrian, and Heather noticed how she put her hand familiarly on Adrian’s arm.

Their dialogue was punctuated with Diana’s cries of “darling,” and “my dear,” and at first Heather thought Diana was trying to show an intimate relationship with Adrian just to taunt her, as if she thought Heather had her cap set for Adrian.

But Diana has no reason at all to suspect that I represent a threat to her relationship with Adrian, thought Heather. She drew the conclusion that Diana was simply the gushy type, but the more she observed Diana, the more she was piqued to realize

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that Diana’s little affectations didn’t actually detract from her charm at all.

“I’m sorry if I have kept you all waiting,” said the lady who now came into the hall. The sun coming in the French doors at the other end of the long room glinted in her hair, showing highlights of color, even though her hair was almost entirely white. Heather guessed she must have had red hair in her younger days.

She had the same elegant look about her chin and mouth that Diana had. She was an attractive woman who gave Heather the impression of being taller than she was, simply because of her bearing. Heather judged her to be in her mid-fifties.

She wore a radiant smile as she breezed up to Adrian and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“How are you, dear? Oh, what a pretty girl,” she said, turning toward Heather.

“Yes, she’s Heather Sinclair, from Adrian’s office, Mother,” said Diana, with a little flick of her wrist.

Mrs. van Horne was warm and charming, and she chatted gaily about this and that, always including Heather I the conversation. She quickly drew Heather out about Pittsburgh and her move to Houston, and her manner put Heather at her ease.

Over lunch Heather remarked on the charm and beauty of the house. Mrs. van Horne told her that the house had been completely rebuilt, but still incorporated the original house built by Veracruz, the Mexican general, in the eighteen twenties. She pointed out the wooden nails that had been used in some of the woodwork. The hall in which Adrian had conducted his business ran from the front to the back of the house, though the front part was closed off by a large oaken archway to form the foyer. Lunch was served at the farther end of the large hall, where the French doors admitted light from the outside.

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This long hall was the interesting part of the house to Heather. It had originally been designed as a wind porch—a roofed porch that separated the two halves of the house from one another, forming a wind tunnel. It was a common way to achieve summer comfort in upper class houses of pre-republican Texas.

When lunch was over, the maid cleared the table and Mrs. van Horne turned to Heather.

“Won’t you have some tea, dear?”Heather glanced at Adrian, but he was turned to

look out the French doors behind Mrs. van Horne.Heather and Diana both took tea, but Mrs. van

Horne had noticed Adrian’s interest in her flowers, and she declined.

“Let me show you my new camellias,” she said to Adrian. They excused themselves while Diana and Heather lingered over their tea.

“I suppose you enjoy working for Adrian,” said Diana.

“Why yes, I do,” returned Heather. She was tempted to hint to Diana that Adrian had shown a more than casual friendliness to her; instead she talked about her work.

“The job is a continual challenge, and I’m learning more than I ever dreamed possible about the oil business, besides meeting lots of interesting people.” She deliberately kept her tone light and almost flippant.

“I take it you admire your boss?”“Of course I do. Everyone admires him. He

seems to get along very well with his staff and he inspires . . . confidence in them.” She had to grope for the correct word.

She looked quickly at Diana. She hadn’t expected Diana to be so friendly. Was she playing a cat-and-mouse game? But Diana couldn’t have suspected the kind of emotional turmoil Adrian had caused in her.

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Diana had put down her teacup, and now she turned to face Heather.

“Just don’t get any ideas about Adrian,” she said. “He belongs to me. He and I have an understanding. This winter—perhaps sooner—we are going to be married.”

Heather almost let out a gasp of astonishment, and for some reason she felt herself blush. Diana had risen and didn’t notice Heather’s shocked expression.

Of course Heather had figured out hat Diana had designs on Adrian, but she didn’t expect Diana to be quite so open about it, so blunt and defensive. Heather had seen it all along, from the first time Diana showed up in the office, but had been hesitant to admit it to herself.

Adrian had never given her any idea that he was planning to marry anyone. But then, men were able to hide their feelings much more successfully than women.

“Well, I wish you the best,” said Heather, when she had regained her composure. She tried to keep her voice light, but inside she was boiling. She knew her tone was not convincing, and she had to bite her lip to keep it from trembling.

“I don’t believe Adrian would ever look at another woman besides me anyway,” said Diana airily. “He certainly would never fall for anyone who was . . . well, shall we say, of the working class. So my dear, as lovely as you are, you could never have a chance with Adrian.” She smiled.

Heather could control herself not longer. Blind with rage, she wanted to reach up and tear out Diana’s dark red hair.

“You’re wrong about me,” she burst out. “As much as I like Adrian as a boss, I couldn’t care less about him personally. He means nothing to me! Not a thing!”

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She flung the last words at Diana. At last her feelings were out in the open. She clenched her teeth, trying to hide her anger. She was a guest in Diana’s home.

Diana hadn’t missed a single syllable of her outburst or the slightest ripple of her facial expression. But she remained unperturbed.

“Adrian doesn’t like to talk about marriage,” she said, goading Heather. “That’s why he has probably never told anyone of our plans. You won’t hear him say anything about them, nor will I mention them in his presence.” She shook her head and stared before her as if in secret sorrow. “You see,” she continued, even this long after the accident, he’s still unable to accept the loss of his wife.”

She grew silent as Mrs. van Horne and Adrian came up the walk from the garden chatting gaily.

Chapter SevenMrs. van Horne had indicated that the late

Sidney van Horne had taken over his family’s cattle empire and by his industry added to the fortune his

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father had left him. His widow was the epitome of the genteel southern matron of an estate. Diana had exhibited the same pride and charm as her mother, but underneath this she obviously had a scheming, grasping nature.

Heather smoldered all the way back to the office. Somehow she had never considered the possibility that Adrian had ever been married, and now the knowledge stung and mystified her. As much as she wanted to ask him questions, she realized that if she said anything to Adrian, she would be likely to lash out at him without justification, and he evidently carried a burden of sorrow about his wife.

What had happened to her? Evidently Diana knew all about Adrian’s former wife. Now it seemed that Adrian was planning to marry Diana, and as little as Heather liked to admit it, Diana, with her beauty, her wealth, and her heritage, seemed to be the perfect match for him.

The questions remained, though, questions Heather couldn’t ask. She stole a glance at him in the driver’s seat. That rugged profile and the frank, open look on his face always made her heart flutter. Did she really hate him? Were her feelings out in the open now, as she thought when she burst out at Diana?

Adrian’s hand rested lightly on the steering wheel, and he had rolled up his shirt sleeves. For an instant she felt a secret yearning for him to enfold her in those muscular arms. She gave a little shudder and looked away. She knew now that her emotional response was just as she had supposed—she harbored an intense dislike toward him, and any desire she thought she had was simply a distortion of her feelings.

Heather withdrew into herself for the next few days. Even Bob Owens seemed too busy to chat with her. She had refused him once, and she

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doubted that he could muster up the courage to ask her out again for a while, especially since his first invitation had been interrupted by Adrian.

Adrian had adopted an attitude that was almost friendly toward her, but when she responded to his cheery “good morning’ or his remarks made during the course of the day, it was with an icy tone. He seemed not to notice.

Heather’s edginess increased, and she thought of Jill. Jill had comforted her before, and now she sought her out again. It was Saturday morning when Heather decided to unburden herself to her friend.

She was a little irked that David was at Jill’s house when she went in—he reminded her painfully of the embarrassing moment at the office. But of course no one could be put out with David for long.

Still, she had wished to see what Jill thought about the episode at Diana’s, and she felt she couldn’t say anything about it in front of David.

He was the first to notice her long face.“What’s this,” he said, “are you in a blue mood

because of your boss?”“What do you mean?”He looked her straight in the eye with an

unaccustomed seriousness.“I saw the looks you gave him the day I picked

you up from work,” he said, “and I’m truly sorry I interrupted something. I could tell it at a glance. But you can take it from me, you’re the perfect girl for him.”

He glanced around to Jill, who gave him a quick look intended for an admonition. But he was on his way out. He muttered a few words of goodbye and turned to Jill, kissed her on both cheeks, and was gone.

“Oh, Jill,” said Heather, fighting back tears.

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“Tell me all about it,” said Jill, putting her arm around Heather’s shoulder and leading her to the sofa. “Unless you don’t want to confide in me.”

“Of course I do, Jill. That’s why I came.” She paused a minute to calm herself down, and then continued:

“Do you remember my telling you about Diana van Horne? I’ve known all along that she had her cap set for Adrian, ever since she first appeared at the office wearing Chanel No. 5. I shouldn’t really care, but we were at her house on business this week, and when she and I were alone, she practically accused me of scheming to get Adrian to fall for me. The truth is,” she paused to gather her thoughts, “. . . well, I couldn’t care less for Adrian, and I told her so!”

Jill raised an eyebrow.“David was wrong about me,” Heather insisted

wildly. “I really don’t care two cents for Adrian. Besides that, Diana said they were planning to get married this winter.”

Jill’s mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You don’t mean it! Have they been engaged for long?”

“I don’t know about an engagement. I have an idea that they just have a sort of mutual understanding, and that she will just catch him at a weak moment and lead him to the license bureau. I tell you, Jill, she’s devious.”

She paused a moment, remembering what Diana had said. “In fact, I think those were the words she used—mutual understanding.”

Jill let out a little whistle of surprise. “This Diana sounds like a real corker. What does she look like?”

“Slim, graceful, late twenties, and auburn hair. She’s very beautiful—almost too beautiful.” Heather’s voice was edgy.

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“But here’s what really has me upset,” she continued. “She told me that Adrian has been married before.”

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?” replied Jill. “My boss, Lieutenant Maxwell, has been married three times.”

“But the problem is, Adrian’s wife was apparently killed in some accident, and it’s left him bitter.”

“I suppose he’ll get over it,” said Jill naively.”“Maybe he will, but in the meantime, I think

he’s probably not interested in any romantic attachment, from what Diana said. Do you see what I mean?”

“Not really.”Heather was struggling with her thoughts. How

could she make Jill understand what she felt, when she didn’t know herself?

“Don’t you see, whether Adrian’s in love with her or not, all she has to do is bide her time—wait until the wounds heal, and always be on hand. Then, bingo! It’s wedding bells for her.”

“Well,” said Jill, “I guess that wouldn’t matter after all, would it?”

Heather looked up quizzically.Jill explained, “You said yourself you didn’t care

two cents for Adrian.”“Yes, I did, didn’t I?” she said softly.Jill reached over and patted Heather fondly on

the arm. “Darling girl, you are going to have to face it. David and I both suspected you were falling for Adrian, but you’re the only one who can really tell how you feel. And if you are in love with him—well, maybe you can take him away from this Diana. I can’t believe Adrian won’t see through her eventually, anyway. If you aren’t in love with him, then it shouldn’t matter if he marries her or not.”

God, why did she have to be so damned rational? “But Jill, it does matter.” She was groping

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for words. “I mean, I don’t want to be selfish, but I just can’t stand to think of him married to that catty woman.”

“Then maybe you’ll have to marry him just to save him from her,” said Jill, with an impish smile. But Heather knew she was serious when she continued, “the only alternative I can think of would be to quit your job and try to forget him.”

Silence reigned for a moment. But Jill knew that Heather needed to take her mind off her problems, and asked Heather to help her clean her apartment. They set to the task, and the work was wonderfully beneficial to Heather’s wounds.

Airing her woes to Jill had helped to calm Heather, but she was still not able to sort out her feelings. It seemed to her that in reality she hated Adrian—hated him for the rude way he spoke to her sometimes, for the way he looked at her as if he resented something about her, and particularly because of his closeness to Diana.

Besides, it was more comfortable to dislike him. He was so wealthy he couldn’t ever think of her as more than just—what had Diana said? “Of the working class.” It wasn’t sour grapes, it was just that—well, anyone with the superior attitude he had would be difficult to get along with, especially in a close relationship.

On Thursday morning Heather was awakened by the telephone. A weak voice at the other end of the line said, “Heather? This is Brad.”

“Oh, Brad, how are you?” He obviously hadn’t thought about the difference between the time zones, which explained why the call was so early for her.

“Heather, I don’t know what’s wrong, but I’m ill. I’ve taken off from work.”

He must be ill to take off from work. In Heather’s memory Brad had never missed a day of work.

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“Have you been to the doctor? What are your symptoms?”

“Yes, I’ve been to the doctor. In fact, I’m going into the hospital today. I was thinking . . . well, I was hoping if you could get any time off you would come up. I don’t know what I have, but it’s threatening to put me out for a long time. I think it’s more serious than you realize. I may not pull through, Heather.”

“Oh, Brad, you baby. You never take care of yourself. Now listen. I’ll see if I can get off, and I may get a plane up tomorrow. In the meantime be sure to follow the doctor’s orders.”

He rang off. Maybe he’s coming to regard our relationship in a more mature way, she thought, and will finally realize I don’t want a romantic attachment to him.

She approached Adrian as soon as she arrived at the office, and he said there were some pressing matters to clear up, but she could take off as long as she wanted after tomorrow. Ross would have to approve.’’

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” said Ross, “and you can probably leave here around three, which should give you plenty of time for your five o’clock plane from Houston International.”

Heather decided she would pack before work the next day and leave directly from the office.

Late in the afternoon Adrian appeared from his office after most of the staff, including Ross, had gone.

“Heather,” he said, “I wonder if you will stay late this evening and help me with some of this paperwork. Atlantic Oil is pushing me to finalize our new contract, and there seem to be hundreds of items that weren’t in our old agreement. I know you’re leaving tomorrow, but you don’t have any plans for this evening, do you?”

“Actually I had planned . . .”

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“Well, whoever it is phone him and call it off,” he interrupted imperiously. “I’ve told you I can’t do without you.”

She knew he wouldn’t take “no” for an answer. She bristled. He had his nerve, asking her to stay after working hours.

Adrian didn’t know about Brad. She had only said that there was an emergency in Pittsburgh that she would need a few days to take care of.

But she couldn’t resist Adrian’s magnetic personality. His strong will wouldn’t allow for difference of opinion. He went back into his office, not giving her time to explain that she had planned to visit her aunt in Brookshire, and to get some packing done for her trip. From the way he spoke, he evidently thought she had a date. Well, let him think it.

Heather had never suspected there could be so much red tape involved with delivering barrels of oil in quantity. It was almost as if every barrel—and Adrian was dealing in thousands of barrels quantity—had various restrictions and qualifications placed on it, regarding specific gravity, viscosity, density, octane, grade, gross weight—the details seemed endless.

She was involved in searching through the sheaf of orders from last year for various figures when she glanced up and met Adrian’s gaze. His blue eyes were engrossed in studying her features, and that same questioning look she had noticed before was on his face. She wanted to drop her glance, but his eyes held her transfixed. He broke the silence.

“Tired?”“No, I . . . well, I have to admit, I am. But we

have done a lot of work, haven’t we? We still have a lot to do, though.”

She went back to her search, when suddenly he reached over and took the papers from her hand.

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“Let’s call it a night,” he said. “But before we do, I need the file for Coast Petroleum. I want to do some work on that one at home.”

“Oh,” said Heather. “I was catching up on some work on that account, and left the folder at home.”

“Well, no matter,” he said. “But I do need it tonight, so perhaps I can stop by your house on my way home to get it. By the way, it’s seven thirty already, and you must be starving. Why don’t we go over to the Red Bull for a bite to eat? I don’t mind admitting it, I’m hungry too.”

An objection sprang to Heather’s mind, but before she realized it she was saying, “All right, I think I’d like that.”

The Red Bull was one of those small and cozy little restaurants, dimly lighted and charming. Adrian had hardly placed their order when a lovely girl came up to their table with a basket of red roses on her arm.

“Would you like a rose for the lady, sir?”“Of course I would,” said Adrian. He paid the

girl and she gave them a warming smile.Heather blushed slightly when she took the

rose. She was on the point of saying to Adrian that it was too romantic a gesture, seeing that he was engaged to Diana. But she thought better of it.

The rose was a beautiful red, and just on the point of opening. Heather remembered that a red rose always means “I love you”—but perhaps Adrian didn’t know that.

He admired the flower in Heather’s hand for a moment. “Ross tells me that your aunt lives in Brookshire,” he said, obviously not wanting to talk business. His voice was soft and intimate.

“Yes, my Aunt Rita and Uncle Fred have a small farm there, but he’s semi-retired now. They are the only relatives I have.” She was about to mention her plans to see them this evening, but Adrian had come

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to his own conclusions. Let him think whatever he wants, she thought.

“What about your parents?” he asked.She dropped her gaze. “They were both killed

in a car wreck just after I graduated from high school.” The memory was still painful to her, and her voice cracked a little when she spoke.

“I’m sorry,” said Adrian, in a sincere tone.Heather remembered that Diana had mentioned

an accident to Adrian’s wife, and felt she should change the subject.

“Mrs. van Horne was utterly charming,” she said. “She made me feel right at home, even though I could never dream of really being at home in such an opulent mansion.”

“Opulent, is it?”“I would say opulent but not ostentatious,” she

returned. “The van Hornes seem to have taste to match their fortune. But you must have known Diana a long time,” she continued, looking away. “Her mother treats you almost like a son.”

She was afraid to encounter his dark eyes at this moment, for she knew he was on the verge of telling her about his engagement to Diana.

“No, I haven’t known her for very long at all. In fact, I only met Diana about a year ago.”

It must have been a whirlwind romance, thought Heather, surprised.

“I’ve known her mother, Priscilla, for a long time,” he continued. “She and Sidney were casual friends of my family when I was young. But the families lost touch, and just last year I ran into her again. Diana had been studying in Europe, and surprisingly enough, I had never become acquainted with her until then.”

Diana was surely a fast worker, then, Heather thought, and it wasn’t one of those long-standing arrangements in which Diana was to wait around until Adrian tired of all his other conquests. But this

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news about his brief relationship with Diana, coming on top of the information about his wife, changed all that.

“I’d rather not talk about her,” he said.Heather was fascinated by the rich timbre of his

voice and the way his eyes sparkled. He seemed to have a certain power over her, and the more her instincts told her to rebel, the more she felt herself coming under his spell.

Suddenly she realized that he was staring at her, that his eyes were boring through her, and she felt undressed before his gaze. Pull out of it, Heather, she told herself, but at the same time she could almost dream how it would feel to be wrapped in those strong arms.

What had he been speaking of? Diana! Forcing herself back to her senses, Heather knew that Adrian wouldn’t, or couldn’t, tell her about his engagement to Diana.

Their dinner was delicious, and when they rose to go, Adrian helped her from her chair. Momentarily his big hand encircled her waist. It sent a voluptuous wave through her body, and she had to catch her breath. Why did a simple touch affect her this way?

Heather remembered that he needed the Coast Petroleum papers, and Adrian followed her in his car to her building. Her apartment was on the fourteenth floor, and they took the glass-enclosed elevator that commanded a view of a large expanse of Houston, including the Astrodome and some of Hermann Park.

Adrian came in for a minute while she went to get the papers. He didn’t take the chair she offered, but remained standing.

As Heather took the papers off her desk, her mind went to the contracts she had worked up at Diana’s, and to Diana’s home, by contrast to her little apartment. She hadn’t been exaggerating

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when she said that the van Hornes’ home was opulent. And here—her place was comfortable, but certainly not opulent.

It seemed strange to compare herself to Diana. Diana had wealth and beauty, and she—well, someone like Adrian wouldn’t even look at her. Not that she wanted him to, of course.

She glanced over at him. He was looking at the gold-framed mirror on her wall, and she could see him in profile and at the same time nearly full-face. His features were sharply outlined. His eyes, so commanding at times, were gentle and expressive. He didn’t notice her glance.

“Here you are,” she said, coming up to him and holding out the papers.

Adrian took them and tossed them lightly onto the sofa. She had stepped between him and the wall, and with his strong arm around her waist he pinned her against the wall. His lips sought hers impulsively.

At first she hesitated as her reason cried out against him, but then she responded, reaching her arms around his muscular shoulders. His kiss became more intense, and her senses reeled under his embrace as her lips yielded to his.

She realized with a jolt that here was where she belonged, that she fit here in his arms. She felt as if this moment could never end. A warm glow of desire suffused her body.

The kiss was over, and she found herself looking deeply into his eyes.

“Since the first moment I saw you I’ve wanted you,” he said between lips that were set as if speaking involuntarily. “Heather, I have to tell you. That day on the oil field, I shouted at you because . . . because . . .” He broke off, confused, unable to continue.

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The memory of that rude encounter brought her up quickly. Use your reason, Heather. Where is your sense of right and wrong?

She flung the words at him with more sting than she intended: “Don’t do this to me, Adrian. Spare me. Spare my feelings and leave me alone.”

Adrian drew back a little and looked at her with an almost insolent stare. She had the feeling that he was appraising her, that he could see through her clothes, and that he liked what he saw. But curiously she also realized that her outburst had stung him.

Without a word more, he reached down to the sofa for the papers, and strode out the door.

Heather was still coming out of her dream. She put her hand to her temple as if to quieten it, and was surprised to realize that her heart was thumping loudly.

What did it all mean? How could she be so swept away by her emotions? He had no right to use her like a plaything. Could he have thought she was leading him on? She had led him into her apartment. She had responded to his kiss. Then she had repulsed him.

Her eyes fell to the floor. There lay a silent witness to the scene that had just passed: the beautiful, crumpled rose.

Heather went to work the next morning half hoping the evening had been only a dream. It was a beautiful dream, but it posed many perplexing questions.

Heather scolded herself. She had lashed out at him and rejected him, just when he was on the point of clearing the air. He had almost had the attitude of an apologetic boy, but she had struck him with caustic words, acting on her emotions instead of thinking.

That seemed always to be the root of her problems—her emotions ruled her actions.

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As it turned out, Adrian was in and out all day, and when he saw Heather he was friendly, only occasionally showing his haughty, arrogant side. Only once did he refer to the previous evening, when he brought the results of his work on the Coast Petroleum account for her to put in order.

“Thank you for getting these for me last night,” he said. “You can file them after you transfer the information onto one of our regular forms.”

“By the way,” he continued, “I hope . . .” he looked at her, his eyes like dark velvet, then looked away, “I hope it didn’t put you out too much, having to stay late.”

“No, not at all. Thank you for dinner,” she said. Remembering the rose, remembering the feel of his lips on hers, she was filled with frustration and desire. She was leaving that afternoon and would be away from him for the better part of a week. She felt she had to say something.

“Adrian.”“Yes?” He turned his beautiful eyes toward her,

and she melted before his gaze. But then he turned away, as if preoccupied with the documents in his hand.

“Thank you, too, for the rose,” she said. “I just think you were a little too . . .” she was at a loss for words. The almost said “too intimate,” but then changed it to “too generous.”

But Adrian had already stepped away toward his own office.

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Chapter Eight

Dear Heather,I just wanted to drop you a little note to let you

know how things are going. Ross is going crazy here without you. He says you are the best thing that ever happened to Brook Petroleum.

I saw Jane standing by the water fountain yesterday talking to Bob Owens. You say that Bob is so shy—well, let me tell you, Jane certainly isn’t. He was hanging on her every word, and he appeared interested. I think something is going on between them. I hope it doesn’t make you jealous. I’ve always thought you would be perfect for Bob. But as they say, that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Heather—don’t breathe a word of this to anyone—I really am afraid Adrian is falling for me. You should have seen the way he looked at me yesterday. He called me into his office, and I went in with a trembling heart. In fact your name came up. He said that he called me in to ask about you! Of all things. NATURALLY I could very easily read

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between the lines. He was actually giving me “the look.”

He wanted to know what you said when you called the office yesterday. It’s a good thing I was here to answer—you never know what some of these nitwits would have said about you.

I told him you were very concerned about your sweetheart, Brad. I didn’t try to disguise the fact that you are probably going to marry him before you come back. If you ever come back. Know what I mean?

Don’t draw a hasty conclusion. I didn’t tell ANYBODY else about you and Brad. Why should I? After all, you didn’t actually say you were going to marry your Brad, but I am not as dumb as I look. I remembered you telling me that Brad was pestering you to tie the knot with him, and if I can tell anything I can tell when a woman is in love. It’s written all over your face.

Then when you said that you didn’t think Brad was all that sick, I put two and two together. Well, you have my congratulations beforehand. I think you will probably be the most perfect wife for a successful furniture store manager in the world.

Back to the continuing saga of the Margie-Adrian romance. Don’t you dare tell a soul! I can’t believe the way he cuts those dark blue eyes around to look at you, like this morning just before lunch, he was on his way out. He just looked in the control room—I was working on a program—and he glanced around, and gave me the most perfect smile. It was as if he didn’t see anyone in the room but me. He said: “I’ll see you after lunch.”

Since you asked yesterday, I ought to tell you about the “City Hall Affair.” I couldn’t tell you over the phone because the walls have ears. I hope I didn’t disappoint Adrian too much, but I just wasn’t able to show up at four thirty. It was because of shadows of my past—that is, interference by my

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family. Don’t get me wrong, Sam doesn’t suspect anything at all about my relationship with Adrian. He still thinks we don’t agree on principles or some such rot. So he would NEVER suspect there was anything between Adrian and me.

It was ironic the way it turned out. I had planned to tell Ross that I had to take my five-year-old, Richard, to the doctor. Well, it turned out that I actually did have to take Richard to the doctor. He has chicken pox.

I have to close this little note, because Timmy is getting hungry. By the way, he always talks about you. His vocabulary is enlarged now to about a dozen words, but one of them is “Heaver.”

Another thing that has me going, I have to mention. That red-headed woman named Vandyke or something—maybe you don’t know who I mean. Well, anyway, she showed up yesterday AND today. Today she stayed in his office with door closed for about two hours. I can’t stand her. She reeks.

I told Ross what you said, that you would be here Friday. I hope you are able to get in to the office on Friday, because he may pull ALL of his hair out if you don’t show up.

Cheers, Marg

ie.

If there was ever anything calculated to make Heather see red, it was Margie’s “little note.” She received it on Thursday, and had already booked a flight for Friday morning at eight thirty.

Brad was all right. The doctor had thought he might have pneumonia, but it turned out that he just needed to take a rest from work. He was so dedicated to his job that he seldom let up. He was fond of saying, “that’s what makes a man a success.”

“Brad, you know you have been working too hard, too long,” Heather said, before she left the

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hospital that evening. “I can’t ‘mother’ you all the way from Houston.”

“Yes, I know, sweetie, but you know there’s a lot to be done at the store. Besides that, I wish you’d move back to Pittsburgh where you belong.”

Good God, that’s just about the only thing he’s said since I’ve been here. Well, at least he’s not pressing for me to marry him this time. Maybe he’s found another woman—I daren’t ask.

“I’ve told you I can’t do that right now. I just have a lot of thinking to do about where I belong. And besides that, I like Houston.”

“Aw, sweetie, what do Texans have that we don’t have?”

I wouldn’t even try to answer that, Heather thought. Her mind raced to Adrian, and to the way Margie had made everything a confused jumble. She was tempted to call Adrian to explain that she wasn’t at all close to Brad.

But what would Adrian think of her then? That she was trying to throw herself at his feet? And then there was Diana, who had spent two hours closeted with Adrian on Tuesday. The hussy didn’t lose any time.

Heather’s flight was not on schedule, and she had to wait twenty minutes longer. She was on tenterhooks. Then the plane laid over in Atlanta for an hour and a half, and she didn’t get to Houston until after two. She drove directly to the office—about an hour’s drive—and didn’t arrive there until about three fifteen.

Ross was the welcoming committee.“I can’t believe you’re back. If you ever thought

you were indispensable, here’s proof of it.” He was beaming.

“It looks like a mountain of work on my desk,” she said. “Doesn’t anything get done when I’m not here?”

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She remembered Margie’s letter—it was the main reason she drove straight to the office from the airport. “Is Adrian in his office?” she asked. “I have to see him about a couple of things.” How she could face Adrian she didn’t know yet, but she had to make him understand that she wasn’t seriously interested in Brad.

“No, Adrian left for San Francisco Wednesday morning—said he wouldn’t be back until tonight. Speaking of that, Margie said you’d be here this morning, and it’s already after three. What happened?”

Heather explained the plane delays, and then asked about Margie.

“Oh she left the office about two thirty. Got through early. By the way, Heather, you don’t have to stick around. All this can wait until Monday. You must be exhausted after your trip. Go on home, and have a nice weekend.”

Heather was feeling the slight effects of jet lag, and she was eager to take Ross’s suggestion.

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Chapter Nine

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Jill rang Heather’s bell Saturday morning.“Would you like to come down with me to see

the police station? I have to catch up on typing a couple of reports for Lieutenant Maxwell, and I thought we could have lunch together and then do a little shopping.”

“Fine,” Said Heather. “You know how envious I‘ve been, with you working in the glamorous world of crime-fighting.”

She slipped on some street shoes, and the two went down to Jill’s car together. “I’m the one who should be jealous,” said Jill. “You must lead an exciting life at your office, with all sorts of handsome men flocking around you. Tell me about Bob Owens.”

Heather went on at length about Bob. He wasn’t handsome, just an average looking fellow, with a pleasant sense of humor. His impersonations were clever and really funny. She told Jill about Jane Harley, and Jill’s eyes sparkled.

“Can’t you do something to bring them together?” she asked, “unless you course you want him for yourself.”

“Not I,” replied Heather. “The trouble with Bob is he’s too shy. I doubt that I could even speak to him about Jane. But I understand from our resident romantic, Margie, that Jane has been drawing him out, taking things into her own hands. So we’ll see what happens.”

Heather was surprised that the police station was a very busy place on Saturday. “I suppose I didn’t think many crimes were committed on the weekends. Don’t crooks take off Saturday and Sunday?”

“Oh, Heather, you’re impossible,” Jill chuckled. She showed Heather some of the offices and the

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forensic laboratory. Heather was impressed by the various items of electronic equipment in the laboratory, especially the machines that were used to examine, weigh, and classify items smaller than a grain of sand, along with their electronically operated readout.

“Sherlock Holmes would be amazed,” she said to Joe, the technician who was working in the lab.

“Little as you might think it,” he replied with a grin, “Sherlock Homes was almost directly responsible for many of the most modern techniques we have today. He just didn’t have the sophisticated technology we have, back in the eighteen-eighties and nineties. But you’re right, he probably would be amazed.”

Heather enjoyed the rest of the day. She hadn’t seen Adrian in over a week, but still he was always in the back of her mind. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Jill about Adrian’s impulsive embrace, about his demanding kiss. She was hesitant even to tell her that she and Adrian had gone to dinner together, because she knew she would have to explain about his romantic gesture toward her.

Finally she could hold it in no longer. Jill had bought a few things from Foley’s and as she took the boxes out of the car, Heather said:

“Adrian bought my dinner last week.” It was the first time his name had escaped her lips that day, and it struck her as sounding like a foreign word.

Jill nearly dropped her packages. “What did you say?”

Perhaps it sounded foreign to Jill, too. “I said Adrian took me to dinner the other day. Don’t get me wrong,” she added, “it wasn’t a date or anything like that. I still think I loathe the man.”

She was immediately shocked by what she had said, but she couldn’t take it back.

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“Tell me all about it,” said Jill, as she bustled off toward the elevator with her packages, leaving one for Heather to carry.

“Well, there’s not much to tell, except that he was extremely charming,” said Heather. “He bought a rose for me at the restaurant, and I considered it a very elegant, very southern thing to do.”

“What did you wear?”“I told you it wasn’t a date,” replied Heather.

“We were working late together, and he suggested that since it was getting late I might want to go over to the Red Bull for a bite to eat. So it wasn’t as if he asked me out.”

“Just happened to be working late, eh? Sounds pretty darn romantic to me,” said Jill, winking.

Heather couldn’t do anything about her blush. Why had she deliberately tried to make Adrian seem like a knight in shining armor to Jill?

She should have told Jill about how Adrian had kissed her in her apartment that night, but she just couldn’t admit she had responded so warmly. And there was the episode with Diana in his office Margie had written her about. But she couldn’t betray Margie’s confidence.

Besides, Jill was busy that afternoon, too busy to listen to Heather’s “true confessions.”

Heather didn’t see much of Adrian on Monday, and on Tuesday at noon he called her into his office.

“I don’t know if you like classical guitar,” he said, but Christopher Parkening is playing tonight at Jones Hall. If you’d like I thought we could make it for dinner and then the concert. I have two tickets.”

Heather was taken aback. She had a slight impulse to turn on her heels and walk out. He had called her in and then left her standing while he asked her for a date, presumably to take up where he left off—to resume his attempt at her seduction, begun over a week ago at her apartment.

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And even though her pulse quickened at the idea of him enfolding her in his arms, she couldn’t forget—the thought was burning itself into her brain: he was engaged to be married. Margie’s note showed how much time he was spending with Diana.

“What about Diana—wouldn’t you rather take her?” She flung the words at him. “I’ll bet she’s dying to go.”

“I’d rather not talk about Diana.” His eyes were dark under his brows.

“Besides,” she continued, “you don’t really have the right to ask me.” She turned to go.

Adrian had half risen, and now he took her arm in a steely grip. “What do you mean, don’t have the right?”

“You’re engaged to her,” she blurted. “I wouldn’t go with you even if I wanted to. I would feel . . . dishonest.”

Her remark silenced Adrian. He relaxed his grip on her arm and turned away to face the window. He let his breath out with a little sigh. It was a long minute before he spoke.

“Oh, I’m engaged to Diana, am I?” His voice was calm. “A minute ago you said you wouldn’t go with me even if you wanted to. Just suppose I weren’t engaged to Diana—would you want to go with me then?”

“But you are, so that’s an end to it.” she replied in a husky voice.

“Did I say I was engaged?”“No, but . . .” She remembered the confidence

Diana had given her, remembered painfully what Diana had told her about his wife. She hesitated, not wanting to hurt him.

“Did I?” he persisted, “or did Ross tell you that? Perhaps Bob Owens told you I was engaged so he could take you out to dinner.”

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“Leave Bob Owens out of this,” she said. “He means nothing to me. He happens to idolize you, only you can’t see it. He only asked me out that one time, and I probably would have gone with him if it hadn’t been for you scaring him off. I wish now I had.”

She flung the last words at him, to sting him, but she realized that he was impervious to her barbs. She dropped her head, and quietly said: “Diana told me herself.”

She was met with silence. She looked up and saw a smile slowly beginning to invade his features. She could hardly endure his cruelty—he was obviously having a joke at her expense. Before the tears came, she turned and escaped out the door.

She could imagine him laughing at her, and in her mind could almost hear his laughter following her out his door and down the hall to her desk.

She fought to control her sobs. She was lucky that everyone was out to lunch and couldn’t see her disgrace.

Heather began to gather her things from her desk. There was only one thing to do. Jill had suggested that she quit, and she knew now it was sound advice.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Adrian. His voice was kind, almost apologetic as he spoke:

“But I’m not engaged to Diana or to anyone else,” he said.

“You’re not?”“No.”She was trying to sort it out. “Why did you

laugh at me?” she asked.“I didn’t laugh at you. I was only smiling

because I think I see what Diana was up to when she told you we were engaged.” He cupped her face in his hand, and gently brushed a tear off her cheek.

After a moment he continued, “You, and not Diana, will go with me tonight. Now it’s past your

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lunch time and I think you ought to take the rest of the day off. I’ll pick you up at six.”

He walked back to his office, leaving her speechless.

As she dressed for dinner, Heather was floating on a cloud. She wanted to ignore the questions that came into her mind, but couldn’t.

Diana must have lied to me, she told herself, or she was stretching the truth. I didn’t just dream that she told me of her engagement. Her very words were, “this winter or sooner we will be married.” That sounds fairly definite to me.

She said that Adrian didn’t like to talk about marriage because of the memories of his wife, but she also said that she had an understanding with him. I wonder what that could mean—what sort of an understanding, if Adrian was unaware of it himself? Unless . . . unless he lied to me deliberately.

Diana has some sort of hold over Adrian. He told me that he had figured out what she was up to. That’s why he smiled. I wonder what she was up to?

And what about her mother? She treats Adrian almost like a son. She probably wants him to marry Diana in the worst way. But she’s hard to read. She certainly was nice to me, and she didn’t seem to consider me a threat like Diana obviously did.

Heather glanced through glass onto her terrace. A sparrow—her sparrow—was busy building a little nest in the corner of the terrace. She watched its activities a little while. By spring the nest would probably house a joyful family of sparrows.

She turned back to her closet and chose a light blue dress with lace at the collar and cuffs. Just the thing for an evening out, She slipped the dress on and then applied the merest suggestion of makeup to enhance her skin tones. The discreet application of her finest fragrance completed her preparations.

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She looked in the mirror with approval. She was not vain—in fact Heather had always considered herself rather plain—but now her reflection told her that in this outfit she could rival Diana for looks.

As she stepped back and combed out a stray lock of her golden hair, she suddenly stopped. She realized that even though she could rival Diana for beauty, she had no idea what Adrian’s wife had looked like. Nor would she ever know, she thought, and tried to put it out of her mind.

Adrian gave a low whistle when he saw Heather, and the way he looked at her made her pulse race. She was glad for the high lace collar.

“You look lovely,” he said, “and very demure. But appearances can be deceiving,” he murmured.

“Thank you for the compliment,” she said dryly, ignoring the slur.

“As he held the car door for her, lightly touching her elbow, his smile suffused his face with a radiant warmth, and Heather felt her skin tingling with excitement.

Traffic was light on the way to the restaurant, and they exchanged a few pleasantries. Adrian directed the conversation to her trip to Pittsburgh.

“I thought you were going to Pittsburgh to get married,” he said. “Don’t tell me your Brad turned chicken?”

“He did not!” She was incensed that he would attack her with such personal questions the moment they were alone. “I went to Pittsburgh because my friend—Brad—was ill and he wasn’t expected to live.”

It was a small lie, but it was what Brad had told her. Of course he only said that in order to get Heather back to Pittsburgh. Still, what business was it of Adrian’s?

“Oh, I didn’t realize that. I hope he’s all right.”His sudden solicitude made Heather feel a little

ashamed—made her feel that she had used Brad’s

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illness as a whip over Adrian. But it couldn’t be helped.

“Oh, yes, he’s much better.” Why must he refer to Brad? She wanted to lead the conversation away from him. “While I was there, I took the opportunity to tie up a few loose ends.”

“I’ll bet you did,” said Adrian with a wry smile.“I mean personal business,” she said. “Why

must you read things into everything I say, Mr. Brook?”

“It’s Adrian, and I know only what Margie told me. She said you wouldn’t be back right away, that you . . .”

“Margie said a lot of things that stretched the truth,” she interrupted. “I love her dearly, but it’s time you realized you can’t take everything she says seriously.”

“Well, she did talk to you on Monday, and she was reporting to me. Hadn’t you called in order to tell me about your . . . your elopement?” He chose his words carefully.

“Certainly not! Margie was reading between the lines, interpreting for you. Her report was inaccurate, and that’s all there is to it.”

They dropped the subject, and Adrian told her a little about his father, Malcolm Brook, as an empire builder. Heather was familiar with his portrait, but she wouldn’t have been able to tell from that how he had lived his life in pursuit of wealth, of dominion, often at the expense of others. But perhaps it was that same tendency to dream great dreams that he had passed on to his son, although Adrian’s dreams were manifested in a different way, his goals assumed a different form.

He fell into a moody silence. She peeked over at him. He had an aura of

power—the kind of power that subdues a woman and leaves her a prey to his desires. He had a basic physical desire for her, she knew that. But her

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determination was strong. She would not be used for a plaything.

Dinner was at the Swiss Chalet, one of those charming old-world restaurants that serves in the European manner, and their dinner was a charming experience.

On the other hand, Jones Hall for the Performing Arts was a modern and up-to-date auditorium, a huge place with marvelous acoustics. Heather was intrigued by the splendid building, with its huge glittering chandelier and the glass-enclosed elevator that overlooked the city. She was amazed at the ceiling modules inside the hall that adjusted the auditorium to the sized of the audience and the acoustical demands of the performer by moving up and down.

Adrian was certainly right about Christopher Parkening. This famous guitarist was acclaimed as one of the great guitar virtuosos, and Heather could easily see why. He walked onto the stage alone and with a few small strokes elicited such sounds from his instrument that Heather gasped in amazement. He played selections by the Spanish composers Tarrega, Sor, and Granados, and after a rather short intermission, selections by Bach. Heather was enraptured.

The recital was over by ten, and Adrian suggested that she might like to have coffee or a cordial. She also might like to see his house, since it was nearly on the way to her apartment.

Adrian lived in one of the older sections on the Southwest side of Houston, in fact not far from the Brook Petroleum Building.

Heather wasn’t able to get a very good idea of the approach to the house because it was rather dark, but she noticed as Adrian drove in that there were several kinds of trees in the yard—she recognized pine and magnolia. The house was set far back off the road.

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The house was silent and dark as Adrian let them in with his key. When he closed the door, he shut out the sound of the crickets and the smell of the magnolias, pleasant to her senses.

They were standing in Adrian’s large and tastefully furnished living room. “Would you like to try this Drambuie?” he asked. “It might be just the thing to bring the evening to a close.”

As they touched glasses, Adrian looked deeply into her eyes. He took a sip, and with his dark blue eyes still searching hers he said under his breath, “Perfect.”

She barely caught his word and decided he was referring to the liqueur. Its aroma was enchanting, and as she tasted it she closed her eyes and was almost able to hear the varying strains of the guitar that had so lately held her fascination. The combination of senses and Adrian’s nearness almost lulled her into an enchantment that she somehow felt would be dangerous.

“I’ll get some hors d’oeuvres if you like,” said Adrian, walking toward the kitchen.

She looked around the room. It was a huge living room, with the most elegant and plush decorations she could imagine, everything contributing to a refined charm. It was almost as large as Diana’s living room had been. Heather thought that if this was the size of the living room, the house itself must be larger than she had supposed when she saw it looming in the dark.

She looked over to the sideboard whence Adrian had taken the cordial. Sitting on the counter top was a tray with various glassware—she noticed several cut-glass pieces with Adrian’s monogram and various items of silver service. She walked over to admire the silver, when suddenly from the kitchen she heard a loud exclamation and the crash of some chinaware breaking on the floor. She hurried in.

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There stood Adrian with a very slight blush on his face and with a plate of hors d’oevres in his hand. A companion plate had spread itself all over the kitchen along with the tidbits and a couple of small water glasses.

“May I help?” asked Heather. His eyes turned imploringly to her and he gave her a little smile.

Adrian took the broom with its dust pan from a small broom closet, and together they began to clean up the spill and broken glass.

“Ouch!” exclaimed Heather, jerking up her hand. Adrian immediately put down his broom and reached for her arm to help her up from her crouching position.

“Oh, it’s only a tiny cut,” she said. “But I think there’s a little sliver of glass imbedded in my finger.”

“Let me see,” said Adrian. He held her hand under the light.

“You needn’t trouble yourself,” she said.“Nonsense,” he returned. “Such a pretty little

hand shouldn’t be smudged.” He wiped a tiny trickle of blood off her finger with a tissue, and very gently picked the piece of glass from its lodging place. Heather winced, but when the glass was freed a grateful smile spread over her face.

“Thank you, Adrian.” She looked up.He still held her hand in his. His eyes caressed

her with an intimate look, and she felt that electricity that was now becoming familiar when she was close to him.

But he seemed to be struggling with himself. Very lightly he held her fingers up to his lips and kissed them. The gesture was so natural Heather didn’t realize it until a moment later, when he had turned away.

“Well, shall we enjoy the hors d’oeuvres?” he suggested, showing the way back into the living room.

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They talked about the origin of Jones Hall, built in the memory of the oil man, builder, entrepreneur, and politician, Jesse H. Jones. And about the glass-enclosed elevator.

“It’s just like the one in my apartment building, only it commands a wider view,” said Heather.

“As far as I know,” said Adrian, “that elevator in Jones Hall was the first of its kind.”

He showed Heather around the downstairs of the house. She was impressed by it size; but she realized it was getting late.

“Would you like to see the upstairs?” he asked. She looked at him. His eyes wore a sensuous look as he smiled at her.

She knew the bedrooms were upstairs. In a daring frame of mind after the enchantment of the evening, she nearly said “yes,” just to see how far he would go. But she realized that she would be helpless to resist him, that her desire would take over.

“No, I believe it’s getting too late. We’d better go.”

As they stepped onto the walkway to the car, Heather remembered the passionate kiss he had given her at her apartment. He has acted like a gentleman this time, she thought. He opened the car door for her and she had a momentary whiff of the summer scents that pervaded the yard.

Then she felt his hand on her arm and prepared to climb into the car. But he held her fast. He was gazing admiringly at her, looking deep into her eyes. The moon was waxing, large and full. His eyes went to her hair and traveled down to her feet in slow appraisal. Is this the way he looked at women when he was sizing them up before taking possession?

He smiled. He hadn’t uttered a word, and his silence seemed to impel her even closer to him.

“I can smell the magnolia blossoms,” she said, trying to appear nonchalant as she glanced around

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the yard, feeling the breeze on her face. Her hand was on the car door.

Without moving any closer to her, he cradled her face in his big hand and suddenly his mouth was on hers. For a long moment she seemed to hold her breath. It wasn’t a demanding, sensuous, and wild kiss as his kiss had been in her apartment, it was more simple but all the more intimate. She had no motive for resisting him. His lips were on hers for only an instant, but it seemed like eternity.

She took a deep breath and sat down in the car. “If I don’t hurry home I won’t get a night’s

sleep, and my boss will take me to task for idling on the job,” she said. She was almost wishing he had acted rough and brutal so she would be in a position to defend herself. But she couldn’t object to his kiss and she realized that it was only because it was such a surprise that she was able to control her emotions, and that now her every fiber was crying out for him to enfold her in his arms, to crush her in his embrace, to fulfill her passion.

As he came around to the driver’s side, he stepped away momentarily and then returned. Sitting behind the wheel, he held out a huge, fragrant magnolia blossom.

“How lovely,” she said. “We don’t have magnolia trees in Pittsburgh.”

“Be sure to float it in water,” he said, “and it will last for several days.”

When Adrian took her up to her apartment, Heather saw a letter in the little brass mailbox in the apartment lobby. Her first impulse was to stop and get it, but she was carried on the tide of Adrian’s charm. He was complimenting her.

“I don’t believe I realized how beautiful you were when you first came to work for me,” he said, holding the elevator for her. She didn’t know how to answer.

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The elevator was much smaller than the one at Jones Hall, but the view took in several spots of interest. Heather wasn’t interested in the view, not now. She was looking into Adrian’s eyes, and too late she realized that they were very close and that she was almost asking for a kiss.

She was oblivious to the motion of the elevator as their lips met for the second time that evening. She felt somehow comfortable and secure in his arms.

Very sensuously he was caressing her neck and playing with the lace at her collar. With his hands he explored the contours of her body under her thin blue dress and she became aware that she must fight, must resist him. But she was almost overpowered by her own desires.

As the elevator door opened, she pushed him away.

“No, Adrian, no! Don’t use me like this. I don’t want to be treated like another member of your . . . harem.”

She wanted to hurt him, to sting him, but at the same time another part of her was reaching out to him. She was still under the influence of the passion, the tenderness, the exquisite emotions of the evening. On his face she could see only determination, determination and a little arrogance.

Roughly he seized her arm, and turned her to face him. “Does your David kiss you like that? Or better yet, do you respond to him like you did to me?”

He paused for a moment while he searched her eyes. “I think it was a delightful end to our evening, but I don’t know if I want to stand in line for your favors—stand in line behind David and Brad.”

So not only did he believe Margie’s story, he thought she was seeing David too. Confused, Heather struggled with her thoughts. She could tell him in a few words that David and Jill were engaged,

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and that he was only a friend. She could also explain her relationship with Brad easily enough. But now the implications of what Adrian had said lashed at her like a whip across the face.

“David and Brad?” she burst out. “Let me tell you, Adrian,” she spat the words out, “you’re wrong, wrong. I don’t . . . I . . . oh, what’s the use?” Her voice trailed off as she struggled to keep a rein on her emotions.

Even if she had explained, though, would Adrian believe her? He seemed to want to believe that she was tied to a vow, that she wasn’t free to do as she pleased.

On the other hand, it might be convenient for him to go on thinking David was serious about her, for the time being, at least. It might help to keep him at arm’s length.

Heather was again mistress of her passions, passions that she was forced to admit were inextricably intermingled with an overwhelming desire for him to crush her in his arms and to smother her with kisses. She spoke in a calmer tone. “Let’s not quarrel. It would ruin everything.”

She unlocked her door and smiled up at him. She was close to him now, so close that she could see the texture of his skin and sense the pulsation of blood through his veins. He smiled at her in return, and she was aware of his manly beauty all the more. She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick, light kiss. It took him by surprise.

“Goodnight, Adrian. It has been a lovely evening.” And she closed the door.

Heather had almost forgotten the letter in her mailbox, and when she was sure Adrian had gone she hurried down to get it. It was from Brad.

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Chapter TenIn the letter Brad went on at length about his

convalescence and about his job. It seems that just as Heather had hoped, he was on the way up in the furniture store. It didn’t show in his income yet—what it amounted to was longer hours and more responsibility, for very little pay. Yes, he had gotten a raise, but it was only a two percent raise and only came to about sixty dollars a month more. But he was spending a lot more than that on clothing and other items that seemed necessary for his position and his new image.

He didn’t ask about Heather or about her job, and whether it was because he was preoccupied with his work at the store or not, Heather couldn’t tell. He did say he missed her already and that he attributed his speedy recovery to her visit. Then he said he was working hard to make it in the furniture store so he could some day claim her as his wife. With that he signed off.

The letter was upsetting, and it led Heather to the inevitable comparison between Brad and Adrian.

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She inhaled the fragrance of the magnolia blossom she had just floated in water. For a moment that delicious aroma stood for Adrian, symbolized his tenderness and his thoughtfulness—she had forgotten her flare of anger when he threw David and Brad up to her. But now that aroma filled her nostrils with Adrian’s personality and made her skin tingle. By contrast Brad’s letter was cold and hard and self-seeking and—she involuntarily held it up to her nose—strangely odorless.

These two symbols of the two men pointed Heather to the undeniable truth, that Brad just couldn’t measure up to Adrian. Even though she was convinced that Adrian only desired her for a physical diversion, even though she was tormented by her thoughts of him and her desires, she saw plainly that Brad wasn’t even a shadow of the man Adrian was.

The next morning dawned early—all too early. Heather wanted to loll about in the comfortable bed and dream of the enchantment of the evening, of the aroma of the liqueur, of the guitar music that had so enraptured her, of the scent of the pine and magnolia. Even now the delicious fragrance of the magnolia blossom floating in a bowl in the living room reminded her of the unforgettable evening. But most of all she wanted to dream of Adrian’s dark eyes, and of the way he had gently held her hand and kissed her lips.

But it was not to be. Heather was not mistress of her own time, and her duty to her employer was intruding upon her dreams with each beep of her alarm clock.

She had hardly begun her day’s work when Margie came in.

“You won’t believe what’s in the newspaper this morning,” said Margie, glancing around suspiciously. She put her hand to her ear and struck

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a listening attitude, as if she wanted to keep from being overheard.

“Is Adrian in?” she asked.“No,” returned Heather. “But I want to talk to

you anyway, Margie. About Brad, and my relationship with him; I had no intention of ‘eloping’ with him or with anyone else, for that matter, and if I had thought you would spread that around . . .”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Heather. I didn’t mean to give a false impression of you to anyone.” She seemed genuinely repentant for the confusion she had caused.

“But listen to this,” she said. “This item in the paper is really big.”

“Well, don’t keep me in suspense,” said Heather, falling in with Margie’s excitement. “What’s in the paper? Have the Middle Eastern oil producers decided to freeze their oil exports, or has someone sold the Brooklyn Bridge, or what?”

“Nothing like that. Nothing so mundane.” Heather knew it had to do with a heartthrob situation, else Margie wouldn’t act so mysterious.

Margie narrowed her eyes and peered at Heather. “You won’t tell anyone?”

“Really, Margie, if it’s in the paper, I wouldn’t have to tell anyone, would I? Now out with it.”

“All right. It’s about Adrian. It’s in Daphne Upshaw’s column—you know, the gossip columnist. I seldom read it, but it caught my eye this morning. She says Adrian was seen last night at Jones Hall with a beautiful blonde!”

Heather was searching the file cabinet and almost slammed the drawer shut on her hand. She felt herself blush deeply, and was glad she was turned away from Margie.

“Really?” she managed to choke out.“Yes,” returned Margie, oblivious of Heather’s

tell-tale crimson. “Here’s what she says.” Margie glanced around once more with a furtive look.

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“’Who was that stunning blonde we saw last evening with Adrian Brook, the oil millionaire? No one’s telling, but we noticed she had his most intimate attention. They were on hand at Jones Hall for the Christopher Parkening recital, and speculation is she’s heiress to the Lippschott fortune. J.D. Whist was also seen romancing Marietta Taylor . . .’ she goes on with some mush about this Whist creature,” continued Margie.

By now Heather had gained control of herself, and she looked over at Margie with a “you-don’t-say” look. She was relieved that the columnist hadn’t described her more fully.

“This blonde is probably some gold-digger, passing herself off as an heiress, don’t you thin?” said Margie. “And guitar? I doubt if Adrian would actually enjoy a guitar recital. I happen to know Adrian is a great fan of Bach.”

How right you are, thought Heather. She didn’t want to tell Margie that Christopher Parkening played transcriptions of Bach’s lute music.

“So he was probably dragged to this guitar thing by some snippet who doesn’t know the first thing about his tastes,” added Margie.

“You might be right,” put in Heather.“Too bad it wasn’t you or me he took out,” said

Margie. “Well, I have to run. I have a lot to do this morning.”

By now Heather had discovered that even though she and Adrian worked together, there was seldom any time when they weren’t surrounded by other employees or much too busy to talk about anything personal. It was just as well, because Brad’s letter had jolted her to the realization that in a certain way she was committed to him, even if she had never accepted his marriage proposals. The situation presented problems that she simply wasn’t ready to face.

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Adrian didn’t come in that morning, and just before lunch time Diana telephoned.

“Miss Heather Sinclair, please,” she said in a voice of controlled emotion.

“This is she.”“Diana van Horne speaking. Miss Sinclair, I’d

like to tell you a couple of things.” Diana’s tone was icy.

“I saw the item in Daphne Upshaw’s column,” she con-tinued. “You can’t fool me—I knew from the moment I saw you that you were infatuated with Adrian.”

“That’s not at all true.”“Of course it is. But obviously nobody knows

who the blonde with Adrian last night was—the stunning blonde—except me. I would call you more the mousy type.

“Daphne Upshaw didn’t say that you were Adrian’s office help. You think you can steal Adrian from me, but I want you to know that I can take him back, miss, and I will. And there’s nothing you can do about it. Lippschott heiress indeed! The only thing you’re heiress to is a copy machine.”

Heather was stunned. Words leapt to her tongue, but she was jolted to silence by the knowledge that anything she said in her own defense would add fuel to Diana’s fire.

“I warned you once,” Diana went on, “and I’ll tell you again. By wintertime you will notice an announcement in the paper about Mr. and Mrs. Adrian Brook. And that’s a promise.”

Heather fought to control her rage, as the hum of the telephone told her Diana had hung up.

As the days went by Heather began to look upon the date to the guitar recital as only an episode, even as Margie would have put it, a fling. Certainly she had enjoyed herself. She had enjoyed the physical contact with Adrian. At the office she often had the chance to regard him, his strong, muscular

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build and the way his shirt fit his body almost as if it were molded to him. And always she remembered with a little shiver how his arms had felt around her, and she had to bite her lip to suppress her desire.

“Heather,” said Jill on Friday evening after work, “David and I are going to the Burke Baker Planetarium tomorrow. I think you would enjoy it. Why don’t you come with us.”

“Well, I suppose if I wouldn’t be intruding,” Heather relied, “I would be delighted to come. I suppose I should dress casually?’

“Yes, we’ll probably do some walking through the park.”

The planetarium was located in Hermann Park, and David had passes because of his affiliation with the Park Service.

As the trio, Heather, Jill, and David walked along the curving park road leading to the planetarium next morning, Heather could see the stature of General Sam Houston that guards the entrance to the park through the trees. The trees exhibited a parti-colored aspect—greens, yellows, reds, and browns, and Heather recalled with a shudder that in Pittsburgh at this time of year people would be preparing for the onslaught of winter by installing storm windows, putting up snow fences, and in general insulating themselves from the cold. She pulled her sweater more closely about her shoulders.

For an instant a phrase of Diana’s passed through her mind: “this winter, or sooner . . .”

The three spent a delightful morning together. The program for the morning at the planetarium was on “the effects of the moon—science or astrology?” It was followed by a short discussion by a guide who pointed out various displays in the planetarium.

As they stepped out into the path leading from the building, David suggested that they go over to

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the outdoor theatre to see if there was anything going on. Saturday morning was usually a time for band concerts and other entertainments. Afterward they might drive downtown for lunch, or out South Main where they could have an endless choice of restaurants.

“It’s getting too chilly for Jill,” remarked Heather. Jill was wearing a short-sleeved knit blouse, but hadn’t brought a wrap. Even though the wind wasn’t very strong, it still made it too cool for bare arms.

“I’ll go get something for you to wear if you wish,” said David gallantly. He had on a flannel shirt.

“No,” said Jill, “just let me borrow your car keys for a few minutes. The apartment is less than five minutes away.” The sun had reappeared from behind a cloud, but she was taking no chances.

“Well, all right,” replied David. He handed her the keys and continued, “we’ll meet you over at the Miller Theatre. Try to find a nearby parking place.”

The two girls had linked arms with David, one on either side. Jill let go and skipped over to his nearby car. “Don’t you hold onto him too tight, now,” she called to Heather, who replied by making a face.

David changed sides so he would be on the outside toward the traffic, and they walked on toward Miller Theatre.

“Do you mind?” asked Heather, fastening onto his arm once more.

“Certainly not,” he said. “I love to have a beautiful woman clinging to me. I even like it better then there are two beautiful women clinging to me. Too bad I don’t have three or four arms.”

Hermann Park was not crowded like it had been only a few weeks ago. Heather and David were walking along one of the footpaths that bordered the road on either side. Heather glanced over to the

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other side of the road and there, not thirty feet away, stood Adrian Brook. He appeared to be staring at her and his lips were set in a firm line. The instant she saw him he glanced away and continued walking toward the planetarium.

Heather was frightened that Adrian might say something rude to David. She wanted to call out to him, but it was too late. Besides, what could she have said, especially if Jill didn’t show up fairly soon? She wheeled around quickly. No, it wasn’t a mistake, it was Adrian all right. His back was to them and he was walking away rapidly. She couldn’t mistake those broad shoulders and that curly dark hair. She knew she couldn’t mistake that look of disdain she had seen on his face, either.

David hadn’t seen Adrian, but he knew something was in the wind. “What is it?” he asked. “You look as if you’d seen a ghost.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I just thought I recognized someone, that’s all.”

David turned look, but Adrian had disappeared among the other strollers on the path. “Maybe it’s another pretty girl,” David quipped.

Almost at the instant Heather and David reached the outdoor theatre, Jill drove by them in David’s car. She pulled into a convenient parking place and ran up wearing her red sweater. By now it looked like the sun was out for good and Jill’s trip was for nothing, because the weather was warming up.

But Heather was under a rain cloud the rest of the day.

“What’s bothering you, Heather?” asked Jill, whose mission in life was to keep everyone around her happy.

“Oh, nothing in particular,” said Heather with a forced smile. She didn’t wasn’t to spoil her friends’

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outing by mentioning that momentary encounter with Adrian, so she made an effort to be cheerful.

“I think I’m just feeling a little blue,” she said. They were seated at a quaint outdoor café for lunch, and Heather had been clutching at her iced tea glass as at a lifeline. But now she brightened. “Jealous of you, Jill, if you want to know the truth—you with this dashing, handsome man.” She gave David’s arm a friendly pat, hoping she hadn’t given herself away too much.

“You have a lot to be jealous of,” replied Jill, smiling over at David. “But you can’t be blue today, it’s not allowed.”

It was obvious that Jill and David were very much in love, and Heather was happy for them both. She was cheered up by Jill’s manner. But that glimpse of Adrian and his menacing looks had unnerved her, and it wasn’t long before she took leave of her two friends with a heavy heart.

When she reached her apartment she4 went directly into the bathroom and began running a tub of hot water. She took a long look at herself in the full-length mirror on the door. She looked healthy and fresh, dressed casually like this, but she regarded her image with distaste. How unlike Diana she looked with her fresh, girl-next-door appearance. Diana was always the elegant sophisticate, never a hair out of place. If she had needed an income—which she certainly didn’t—she would have been a perfect model for a high-powered women’s magazine.

Heather had filled the tub to the rim so that when she slid her slender frame into the water it covered her all the way up to her neck. She lay there in the comfortable water musing.

Adrian had appeared so rude at the park, looking at her with cold disapproval, never speaking a word. How she wished she had had the presence of mind to say something, anything, to let him know

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the truth about David. But what right had he to be jealous of David?

Strangely, it occurred to Heather, the longer she knew Adrian, the more difficult her relationship with him became. Her feelings toward him teetered between revulsion, indifference, and desire.

Desire! Heather told herself firmly that it was mere physical attraction and not love that drew her toward him. What girl would not be attracted to Adrian Brook? His commanding manner, his captivating masculine beauty, and the air of self-confidence and power that gained him the respect and affection of both men and women—it was just natural to be attracted to him.

Heather found herself wishing almost desperately that she could be happy with a man like David. David was so strong, so dependable, so boyishly handsome. He exuded that air of quiet calm. Heather thought to herself for a moment that David would make a perfect husband—so devoted to the simple homey things in life, and so affectionate. Why did her desires lead her to the stormy Adrian Brook?

On Monday Adrian didn’t appear at the office until the day’s business was over. As Heather stepped out the door to go to her car he was just reaching for the door handle. His eyes widened in surprise and a slight, ever so slight mocking smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“Well, hello,” he said. Then he hurried on past her into the building.

Again Heather was taken by surprise and speechless. Well, she wouldn’t let it happen like that this time. She wheeled around and marched back into the building, fully determined to tell him off.

“Adrian, I want to get some things straight,” she exclaimed.

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His back was to her as he looked through a file cabinet in the corner of the room. At her words he turned his penetrating eyes round to her and leaned lightly on the edge of the file cabinet.

“It’s about David,” she began.“Oh, it’s about David, is it?” he said menacingly.

“You don’t need to tell me about David, miss. What you do with your private life is your own affair.”

“But I want to explain about my being with him . . .”

“Don’t explain anything,” he said in his musical baritone. “By the way, I’m glad you came back in. Just tell me if you are free tomorrow evening.”

He was sizing her up. “’How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying’ is on the boards at the Alley Theatre, and I’d like you to go with me. If you haven’t seen that show ‘live,’ you’re in for a treat. Besides, we could both use some pointers along those lines.”

The humor wasn’t lost on Heather. “Well, if you think . . .”

“I do think. And I won’t take no for an answer,” he said. “So just be ready about seven fifteen tomorrow.” His smile was irresistible, and he had melted all of Heather’s objections.

Faced with Adrian’s dynamic personality—first reprimanding, almost accusing, then utterly charming and appealing, Heather was unable to think clearly. She was tempted to refuse him, but as she turned to go, she found herself saying:

“All right, I’ll be ready then, at seven fifteen tomorrow.”

What a mixture of severity and charm is in this man, she thought as she dressed for bed that evening. He obviously disapproves of my having any relationships with other men. He had been downright rude both times he saw David with me, and when he heard Bob Owens ask me for a date, he acted ominous. Not to mention his remarks about

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Brad and my trip to Pittsburgh. It’s almost as if he considered me his property. When we went to the guitar recital, how charming and sweet-natured he was.

And intimate. But I’m certainly not his property. In the morning I’ll just go in and tell him the date’s off!

As she dropped off to slumber, though, a little shiver shook her as she involuntarily imagined herself in Adrian’s arms, just as she had been in her apartment elevator such a short time ago.

In the morning Heather summoned up all her courage for an encounter with Adrian. She would not be cowed this time. He wasn’t at work when she arrived at the office, but she was ready for him.

She heard a step in the hall. She closed her eyes for a moment, then squared her jaw and turned to face the hallway. It was Ross.

“Adrian called and said he won’t be in today. He said to commend you for you work on the Coast Petroleum account. And I must say I agree, your work sorting that out was superlative.”

Not coming in? she thought. But how can I tell him off if he doesn’t come in?

But there was not help for it. I suppose there’s no alter-native, she thought. I have to go with him tonight. I’ll make the best of it—it might be fun. I’ve never seen “How to Succeed,” and besides, Adrian can be very charming.

Ross knows everything about Adrian’s business. How much does he know about Adrian’s personal life? Does he know about our date to Jones Hall? How much does he know about Diana? These questions nagged at her all through the day, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask Ross.

When Heather dressed that evening, it was in a delicious new dress she had bought after work. It was a creamy soft rose crepe that left one shoulder bare. The small waist accented the high

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lift of her breasts. The straight skirt had a short slit on one side, the better to show the long curve of her legs. Heather caught her breath when she saw herself in it. The color gave her skin a soft rosy glow, and her hair glistened as if there were lights in it.

There’s the doorbell and a tap on the door. She frowned. It was only seven o’clock—surely it couldn’t be Adrian already. Heather slipped on her silver sandals and hurried to the door.

“David!” she exclaimed.“None other, dear lady,” he said, entering. He

was wearing dress slacks and a tie. “My beloved, down yon hallway, bids me ask you if you’d like to go with us this evening. But I see you already have plans. You look great.”

Heather looked at him, panicking. What if Adrian should walk in now? It was a tense moment, and she didn’t have time to do anything about it. She laughed and squeezed David’s hand.

“I appreciate the thought, but you’re right, I do have plans. Now get out of here, you handsome oaf, before you spoil them.”

“Must be Adrian. You wouldn’t call me an oaf for just anybody. Okay, have fun. I’ll see you later. And may I repeat, you look great. Like a ripe strawberry.”

Heather laughed again and pushed him out. She leaned against the closed door and caught her breath. What a close call.

She hurried to the mirror to see if her makeup was all right, and noticed that her face was flushed from the anxiety David had caused.

David hadn’t been gone ten minutes when the bell rang again. This time it was Adrian. He let out a low whistle as he looked her up and down approvingly.

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Heather, you’re beautiful,” he said softly. She felt a lump forming in her throat. It was difficult to look him in the eye.

He held out a floral box to her. She took it wordlessly and opened it. There, nestled in the green floral paper, were a dozen perfect red roses.

She felt slightly ill at ease. How could she harbor any resentment toward a man who appeared with such a beautiful and thoughtful gift?

He was standing near her. “I thought when I bought these that rose red would be a perfect color for you,” he said, admiring her outfit.

She felt her heart beating fast. “Oh, Adrian,” she said, looking up from her gift. She had not realized he was so close. She had practically turned into his arms. She thought wildly that she would not know what to do now if he kissed her. She felt his breath on her cheek.

She moved away quickly, saying, “I’ll find a vase for these. Have a seat.”

As she walked away toward the kitchen she was acutely aware of how the rose-colored dress accentuated her figure, and found herself wishing she had worn something more demure. She felt almost naked before Adrian’s eyes but naked in a beautiful, sensuous way, and the feeling was new to her, tender and a little frightening. Suddenly she felt very vulnerable.

The Alley Theatre was a large, modern theatre that featured two stages, one principally for theatre in the round, the other a large proscenium stage. Heather wondered whether Adrian had anything in mind by asking her out to see “How to Succeed in Business,” in view of the romantic subject mixed with the modern business world and the several parallels to their own situation, but she decided it was just coincidence.

The play was delightful. About halfway through the first act, Heather became aware that Adrian was

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gazing intently at her. By an effort of will she forced herself to keep her eyes riveted on the stage, and she felt herself blush. But she soon brought her emotions under control, and with a slight motion of her head returned his gaze.

Ad their eyes met she felt his hand touch hers, then clasp it tightly—like a silent promise, and a sudden wave of emotion thrilled through her body. His lips were slightly parted, but he didn’t speak. Instead the gentle pressure of his hand and his eyes scanning into the depths of her soul told her of an almost secret desire emanating from him in the semi-darkness. Her heart leapt within her and she forgot her vow against his physical attraction. For the second time this evening she felt vulnerable—vulnerable to his rugged good looks, to his gentle but commanding touch, to the spark of electricity with which he held her in his gaze.

Almost before she knew it the act was over and like the actors, she had to reenter the real world, they to the dressing room, she to the lights and the press of the crowd in the theatre.

She led the way into the lobby for short refreshments, excitedly talking about the play and speculating about what would happen to J. Pierpont Finch, “Ponti,” on his way up in the business world.

They were enjoying the play immensely. On of the characters reminded Heather of Margie, and Adrian mentioned several other parallels to their office and staff. J. B. Biggley was a little like Carlyle Slater, but you could never expect Carlyle to break into a song and dance.

During the second intermission, Heather and Adrian were in the lobby when someone brushed against her arm, and she turned with a questioning glance.

“I’m sorry,” said a large red-faced woman in a garish outfit. “Please excuse me.”

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Heather gave her a quiet smile and turned back to Adrian. He was facing away from her to greet a young man who came walking up to them.

“Hello, Adrian,” said the man, and at that moment his glance rested briefly on Heather. His jaw dropped and he jerked his head back to Adrian with an astonished look.

“Linda . . ?” he muttered, and then his face relaxed as if he seemed to realize he had made a mistake. “Oh,” he said, and his lip trembled slightly.

Adrian gave the man a dark, menacing look and took Heather by the arm with a vise-like grip. Between his teeth he said, “I want you to meet Heather Sinclair. She’s associated with me at Brook Petroleum.”

Adrian didn’t look at Heather but said, “This is Ned Roberts. He’s an architect.”

“How do you do?” said the man, and his lip continued to tremble. He made some hasty excuses and turned to go.

The lights went down in the lobby and Heather looked around for Adrian. He was already on his way into the theatre and she had to hurry to catch up to him.

The last act wore on and on. What had happened to the warmth and understanding she had experienced with Adrian before the last intermission? He hadn’t looked at her, hadn’t said a word to her since then. What had Ned Roberts to do with this sudden coldness? She was afraid to ask the question: who was Linda?

Heather was reluctant to look at Adrian, afraid of what she would see in his eyes. Now and again he glanced at her and she was shocked by the realization that he was scrutinizing her with that same cold, searching look she had noticed before, when she first came to work for him. It was almost as if he were jealous of her occupying the seat next to him, as if he were mentally putting someone else

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in her place, as if her were questioning her very existence.

But why? Could Diana be responsible for his attitude? She thought not. His remarks about Diana were hard to interpret at best. But still Diana seemed to have a hold on him, a hold that was more than secret in that he either wasn’t aware of it or he only put it aside on those occasions when he was able to admit that his relationship with her wasn’t a long-lasting personal one.

Finally the play was over. Heather glanced at Adrian’s profile, etched against the brighter lights of the lobby as they made their way out of the theatre. That same proud look was on his face that she had observed that memorable day on the oil field. She was unable to shake the feeling of embarrassment when she thought of it. Now again his teeth were clenched in an almost accusing attitude, and like that day on the oil field, she was irresistible drawn to his many beauty. Why do I give in to my emotions this way, she thought, when I should feel a horror and a loathing at the memory of that rude encounter?

She compared his brusque manner with the warm, intimate way he had acted when he took her to hear Christopher Parkening. It was as if he had two different personalities, and even though he had made her feel that he only desired her physically at that time, that he only wanted to add her to his collection, still she much preferred the Adrian of that memorable evening to this silent, rude Adrian. Remembering that evening, she could almost smell the magnolia blossoms when he had very gently kissed her with those warm lips, looked into her eyes, and made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world.

Adrian was obviously not intending to talk on the way home. Heather mustered all the courage she could and said:

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“Adrian, I . . . that is, I thought we could stop for some coffee on the way home.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “I have an early morning tomorrow.” His tone was devoid of emotion. He spoke almost like a man in a dream.

At her apartment he came up to her door. There was only a dim light in the hall, and Heather realized that she should open the door and switch on the light when she invited him in. But as much as her senses cried out for him to take her in his arms, she was subconsciously afraid of him, afraid of the mood he was in, afraid that he would take her against her will, and that somehow he was only using her as a stand-in, a substitute for something he wanted more.

Still she invited him in, but he only muttered an almost incoherent “goodnight,” and left her standing by the door in the faint hall light.

Chapter ElevenHeather spent an almost sleepless night. She

felt so out of sorts the next morning that she telephoned Ross that she would be late to work.

She was dreading an encounter with Adrian, but he wasn’t in when she arrived at nine thirty. After a little while Ross called her into his office.

“Adrian was in early, and he’s gone out to one of the drilling rigs, I’m not sure which one. I expect him to call and let me know where he is. I’m hoping you will have some time to help me this morning. Bob Owens isn’t coming in, and I just can’t dig out of this mountain of work by myself.”

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Just then the phone rang. “Brook Petroleum,” said Ross. “Oh, yes, Adrian, I think I’ll be able to get that done this morning.”

He scribbled some notes on a pad. “Oh, she’s here with me—do you want to talk to her? No? Well, she’s going to help me with these accounts.”

As Ross talked to Adrian, Heather was busy with her thought. Adrian trusted Ross, but did he confide in him about his personal life? Already the question had come into Heather’s mind. She wanted desperately to pick up the tangled ends, to unravel the seeming mysteries surrounding her relationship with Adrian.

It hurt her to know that Adrian had not wanted to talk to her. She could only imagine that either he didn’t want Ross to know they had been out together, or she had angered him in some way.

She probably had angered him. Why else would he have acted so cold to her last night? Whatever it was, it had affected him during the play, after his chance meeting with Ned Roberts.

Ross hung up the phone. Heather figured there could be no better time than this to ask his help. She came directly to the question.

“Ross,” she said, “who is Linda?”Ross was evidently surprised by the question,

but not put out. He slid his horn-rimmed glasses off his face and relaxed in his chair.

“So you have found out about Linda. Well, I suppose it’s no secret. In fact I had almost assumed you already knew about her.

“I never knew Linda,” he went on. “Adrian has never said anything about her to me. But I know that he was married to her for about two years. According to all reports, she was very beautiful. She had long blond hair, I imagine something like yours. I understand they were something of an ideal couple.

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“Adrian always avoids speaking of her. I’ve never mentioned her to him, but whenever her name is mentioned, or the subject of marriage or anything of the sort comes up, he immediately changes the subject. But I’m surprised he said anything about her to you.”

“He didn’t,” said Heather. “It was only a chance remark . . .”

She paused and looked at Ross. “Well, I suppose I can tell you. Adrian took me out to a play last night. We were getting along fine until intermission when an old acquaintance of his came up. As he greeted Adrian, he looked at me and I heard him mutter a name that sounded like ‘Linda.’”

Ross pursed his lips and drew in his breath.“You know,” he said, “I never had thought about

this, but it’s only since you’ve been here that Adrian has acted like he had something to live for. When I first came, his wife had only been dead about six months and he brooded almost constantly.

“It’s hard to know anything about Adrian personally. He’s a man of very high dreams—not for wealth, he already has that, but for a foundation, a reason to exist, as he would put it. Maybe it could be defined as a new beginning, a search for his place in the world. He has wanted to establish a permanence, a secure world in which he could some day look back on the years and say to his sons and grandsons, ‘this is what I have done, this is our worth.’ I guess you could call it a heritage—something Malcolm Brook, his father,” Ross nodded at the painting on the wall, “something Malcolm Brook never gave him.

“I don’t know if you follow me. I’m not sure myself how to explain Adrian. But I am probably the only person he confides in.

“From what I hear, he thought he had found his way, thought he could at last set his goals and achieve them, when he met Linda. But as far as I

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can tell, she had something of a grasping nature, and even though they were seen together in society a lot, I privately suspect all was not well with them. That’s only speculation, of course, because I didn’t know Linda.

“But for as long as I’ve known him the man has been tormented by unfulfilled dreams and by God knows what else. I suppose that’s why he is at all interested in Diana van Horne—you know her?”

Heather nodded.“He’s grasping at a straw when he pays

attention to her, is the way I see it. Oh, she has a lot going for her, but she just isn’t his type,” Ross continued.

“But even with her influence, he was unsettled and brooding. Since you’ve been here, though, he seems able to hold his head up and almost forget his torment.”

“I didn’t know I had any influence on him at all,” said Heather.

“Well, of course it could be my imagination,” said Ross reflectively. “I knew you two had gone out, and it didn’t surprise me. Adrian isn’t the kind of man who waits for things to happen. He goes for what he wants. I could see you almost bowled him over from the first time he laid eyes on you, even though at first I didn’t think he liked you. The only thing I don’t understand is why it took him so long to ask you out.”

Ross put his glasses back on and was on the point of resuming work, when he paused again.

“Now that I think about it I seem to remember that he had some sort of reservations about you at first. But I don’t remember what came of it.”

“Was it the first day he met me?” asked Heather. She could never forget those biting words she had overheard—“why did you hire her of all the secretaries in the world?” She looked closely at Ross. Maybe now he would clear up the mystery.

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“Didn’t he raise some objections about me that first day?” she asked.

“Yes, I believe he did,” Ross said thoughtfully. “I remember it very clearly now. He asked me why I hired you of all people.”

She could see Ross didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but that he felt he had to be truthful. He continued quickly:

“At first I thought maybe he knew something about you that I didn’t know. But he obviously didn’t. I remember what I told him. ‘Why,’ I said, ‘what’s wrong with her? She’s a damn good worker—picks things up fast.’ He just looked at me in a sort of stare and said, ‘Oh, it’s nothing, just my imagination,’ or words to that effect. He went on to say that he was sure from the reports I’d given him that you were very efficient—which he’s found out first-hand since then.”

“Well, I hope he has been pleased with my work,” Heather put in. “But he wasn’t pleased with me last night. It would probably be better if I didn’t get involved with him personally.” She bit her lip. She hoped Ross couldn’t see how she was affected.

“I just don’t know if I could fight the constant shadow of his wife,” she continued. “What happened to her, Ross? Was she in a car wreck or something?”\

“No,” replied Ross, “she was killed in an accident all right, but it was on the oil field. I understand it was pretty grisly. One of those huge pulleys swinging from the derrick crushed her head, and with Adrian standing there watching.”

“Oh, no,” said Heather. A wave of sickness swept over her and she felt faint. What a horrible thing to happen. She was dazed and had to lean on Ross’s desk. After a few minutes she pulled herself together, but hadn’t the courage or the desire to go on with the conversation.

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All morning she worked with Ross, until they had reduced the stack of papers on his desk to what seemed a manageable size. Ross said he wanted to get most of the work out of the way because Adrian was anxious to put through some new leases.

By one o’clock Heather was famished, and she went to a pizza parlor with Jill for lunch. She only had an hour, and she had many things to tell Jill, but this time it was Jill who was bursting with news that just couldn’t wait.

“My boss has me on a new assignment,” she said, as they took their lunch trays to the table. “I have to tell you about it.”

“I thought you were a file clerk,” said Heather.“Well, I am, but on this job I feel like a

detective. You see, Lieutenant Maxwell is doing an update of the police files, and it involves going back almost to year one and making sure all the information is correct on the files, plus flagging certain cards in the file if the case is still open or unsolved.”

“Unsolved?”“Yes, you goose. You would be surprised how

many police cases there are that just never get solved. Lots of disappearances, burglaries, murders, cats in trees—it’s unbelievable what a crew of nitwits we have on the police force.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” she said as Heather threw her a quizzical glance. “We do have a pretty good police force. Of course, it’s mainly because they have such and efficient, expert girl detective working on their files.”

Jill’s merry laughter was soothing to Heather. She was becoming interested in Jill’s work at the police station. She had a mental picture of Lieutenant Maxwell—a little man, fat and balding, with a huge cigar. The jolly type.

“I suppose Lieutenant Maxwell is pretty easy-going, though, isn’t he?” asked Heather.

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“Goodness no,” replied Jill, “he’s as tough as nails. Well, not quite as tough as nails—his bark is worse than his bite. But the most intimidating thing about him is his appearance. He’s so tall and thin, and when he peers down at me it sometimes scares me until I can manage to get a smile out of him.”

That was Jill, true to form, thought Heather—getting people to smile. Her image of Lieutenant Maxwell was on the point of dissolving, however.

“Is he a little bald on top?” she asked, “and does he smoke cigars?”

“Oh, no,” said Jill, “he has thick brown hair, and in fact he is a crusader against smoking.”

“But I haven’t told you all about the kind of slave work he has me doing,” she continued. “I have to get copies of the newspaper reports that summarize each of the cases in the files, and, when possible, to get prints of photos from the newspapers. Everything will eventually be in the computer files, and on microfilm.”

“I imagine it must be exciting to see pictures of those people and realize their story was played out so long ago,” said Heather.

“Well, it wasn’t all that long ago. I’m working in the late nineties now. Most of the older files are already on microfilm.”

The two walked out to their cars together. Heather had been full of news too, but she couldn’t discuss affairs of the heart with Jill over a hurried lunch, so she just didn’t mention her date with Adrian.

Just before Jill drove off, she rolled down her window and called over to Heather:

“By the way, I think Adrian Brook is even handsomer than his pictures. I caught a glimpse of him I the hall last night.”

So Jill had seen him last night. Heather wondered if Adrian had seen Jill too. Probably not, she thought.

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Jill had cheered Heather up immensely. She was amazed how Jill could get excited over just anything, and how she could convey that excitement. By the time she got back to the office she had almost forgotten about her heartache.

Almost, but not quite. The big sign with Adrian’s name on it reminded her forcibly of the events of the past few days. As she stepped into the carpeted hall from the asphalt parking area she suddenly felt all alone, almost as much as she had when she first moved to Houston from the security of Aunt Rita’s.

Brad’s face flashed across her mind. Sweet, comforting Brad. Suddenly the thought came to her: what is she going to do about Brad? It had been so long since she even thought about him. But she can’t be thinking about him now, not with the work she had at the office.

Still she told herself that Brad had become a problem, even though he was far away and essentially out of her life. With a jolt she realized he wasn’t out of her life at all, and because of their unspoken understanding, she was essentially promised to him in marriage. Vaguely she wondered why this thought should be so repugnant to her, especially concerning Brad, of all people. He was just like a big teddy bear.

But, she reflected, what she needed now was someone strong to confide in, not someone she would have to chaperone. Someone strong like—she had to admit it—like Adrian.

She looked around the reception hall. Even here, Adrian’s personality was manifested in a thousand ways. The rugged leather-covered chairs, the massive floor lamps, even the choice of magazines he kept for visitors. She could almost feel his magnetic presence everywhere.

Everyone was out of the office, but Heather had enough to keep her busy the rest of the afternoon.

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She had few distractions, and was able to catch up on her paperwork.

The chilly evening made her pull her sweater closely around her as she went into her apartment building after work.

She made a cup of hot tea. She had a lot of problems to solve, and she felt she couldn’t go to Jill with them, not at this stage. And certainly not to Margie. Margie would treat Heather’s situation like espionage.

And if she was unable even to make up her own mind about what her emotions were telling her, how could she speak about her feelings with someone even as close as Jill, when she was unable to sort them out herself?

Of course, she thought, Brad was at the heart of the problem. He had almost begged her to marry him several times, and she never had refused him flat out, she only had put him off and hedged. She has to face the situation squarely and make up her mind once and for all.

Looking back, she decided that Brad took too many things for granted. For example, he was convinced that Heather would one day come back to Pittsburgh in order to be his wife, or, as he had put it in his letter, he would come to Houston to “claim her.” She hadn‘t thought about it until this afternoon, but Brad was very immature by comparison with Adrian.

Adrian! Thinking of his name sent a little shiver down Heather’s frame. Even though Adrian had acted strangely toward her, even though she was miserable because of him, in her mind Brad just couldn’t measure up to him. The comparison of Brad to Adrian made Heather see that she had never loved Brad and that she could never love him.

Adrian’s name came to her mind again. She had never known a man to affect her as Adrian had. In spite of all the questions, the doubts—the unsolvable

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problems it created, she realized with a little shock that she was in love with Adrian.

In love with Adrian! Another shiver shook her and she noticed her eyes were damp. She was in love with Adrian and had been all along.

Over the next couple of days Heather barely glimpsed Adrian as he hurried in or out of the office. More than once she could feel him resting his gaze on her, but he only spoke to her when the office was crowded, as if he were avoiding personal contact.

She spent a miserable weekend, cooped up in her apartment because of the relentless rain that pummeled Houston. It was late in the hurricane season, but off the gulf coast the tropical storm was venting the last of her rage on coral reefs that lay hundreds of miles out in the gulf, closer to Cuba than to Texas. The rains came in her wake.

Jill was gone to visit David’s parents, and Heather was all alone.

Monday and her office work came as a welcome relief to Heather, and her heart beat faster when she thought of seeing Adrian that day. But as she walked in, Carlyle Slater met her in the hall with the information that Adrian had taken a flight to Albuquerque, and wouldn’t be back until Thursday.

Until Thursday? She wanted to shout at Carlyle that she was in love with Adrian and couldn’t wait until Thursday to see him. But of course she didn’t.

She felt a certain relief, now that she had admitted to herself that she loved Adrian. But it had to remain her secret for now—maybe forever. It was a devastating thought that she couldn’t even tell Adrian.

After lunch Heather was sitting at her desk when she heard a sound in the corridor. She looked up to see one of the last people she ever expected to see there: Mrs. van Horne.

“How are you, my dear?” said Mrs. van Horne as she entered the reception area.

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At first Heather was a little nervous because Mrs. van Horne reminded her forcibly of that vixen, Diana. But Mrs. van Horne’s manner would make anyone feel easy with her. She sat in the leather chair and looked at Heather with an expression that made Heather feel as if she were the most important person on earth and Mrs. van Horne were there to prove it.

“My, you look nice today,” said the older woman. “Please don’t get up. I can only stay a few minutes.”

“Can I get some coffee for you?”“No, thank you. I just came by to drop these

off.” She reached in her purse and drew out a long envelope. “I was supposed to leave it here for Mr. Dickson. Is he in?”

Heather glanced at the clock. “No, he’s still out to lunch. I’ll see that he gets them if you wish. Mr. Brook . . . that is, Adrian . . . is not here either, but . . .”

“Oh, that’s all right. Well, these have to do with Diana’s oil lands, so if you will give them to Mr. Dickson, I’ll be grateful, dear girl.

“You must come and see me again, my dear. I remember your visit with pleasure,” she continued. “By the way, don’t tell anybody, but Diana wanted me to bring these papers down first thing this morning, but I was too busy. She won’t know I was late, though—she’s gone until Thursday. Goodbye, my dear, it has been a pleasure to see you again.”

Before Heather could say a word, she was gone.That afternoon when she got home from work,

Heather changed into some comfortable clothes. She was hoping Jill was home from the office—Jill was the only person she could confide in, and Jill had been gone all weekend. Heather hadn’t even been able to say anything to Jill about her date with Adrian.

And there was the circumstance of Adrian and Diana both going out of town until Thursday. It

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sounded very suspicious. It just couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Hi,” said Jill, when heather rang the bell. “I just got home a few minutes ago, so come on in while I change. I want to bring you up to date on my crime file.”

“All right,” said Heather, “but first, Jill, I’d like to ask your advice about some personal problems.” Heather felt comfortable talking to Jill.

“I’ll bet it’s about Adrian Brook,” said Jill, as she emerged from the bedroom, tucking her shirt into her jeans.

“Yes, you’re right. Jill, I didn’t tell you this before, but he took me out to a play last week.”

“Wonderful! But where’s the twinkle in you eye and the gushiness in your voice? What’s wrong? I hope our hero didn’t do anything to wound our girl’s feelings.”

Jill dropped her voice. “Did he propose?”“Silly. Of course he didn’t. But Jill, I found out

something about his wife.”“Don’t tell me she was snaggle-toothed?”“No, silly. She was a beautiful woman. Ross

told me about her. He said she had long blond hair.”“Like yours.” “You know, that’s what he said. He also said

she was killed in a horrid accident on the oil field.”This was a sobering bit of information to Jill.

The shock registered on her face.“But listen to this,” Heather continued. “Ross

says Adrian was never able to get over his grief until I came to work there.” Heather was trying to convince herself as well as Jill that things were going well between her and Adrian.

“But wait,” she said, as Jill assumed an I-told-you-so attitude. “Things are not what they seem. I forgot to tell you the bad part. You remember Diana had told me about Linda . . .”

“Linda?”

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“Yes, that was Adrian’s wife’s name. Diana said Adrian couldn’t bear to think about marriage or anything like that. Well, last Tuesday night I found out first hand.”

“Don’t tell me you proposed?”“No, you crazy girl. Please be serious. I . . .

well, I just don’t know what to do.”Jill noticed Heather’s lower lip trembling. “I’m

sorry,” she said. “But wait a minute. You told me yourself that you didn’t care two cents for Adrian, and remember, you said you have a boyfriend back home—Brad is his name, isn’t it?—and that you wouldn’t allow yourself to fall for Adrian Brook or anybody else.”

“Yes, well, that’s all changed now. Jill, I don’t care about the problems involved, I don’t care about Diana, and I don’t care about Brad. I’m in love. I’m in love with Adrian.”

Jill was speechless. But Jill was not a girl to remain speechless for long. She narrowed her eyes and peered at Heather.

“Now you decide to fall in love with him,” she said, “just when you have found out that Diana van-somebody- or-other is going to marry him. Just when you find out he is living in the past, brooding over the memory of his dead wife. And then there’s Brad, waiting in the wings. How many times has he proposed to you?”

“Three times.”“Now you’re the one being silly. Face it,

Heather, the signs just aren’t auspicious for you to fall in love with Adrian, regardless of how rich or handsome he is.”

Heather felt herself blush. “Oh, but Jill, none of that matters anymore. I’m in love, and Adrian Brook is Mr. Right as far as I’m concerned. I just don’t know what to do.”

She had such a pitiful look on her face that Jill reached out and patted her hand.

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“I suppose we’ll have to think of some way to foil Diana, then.”

“I’m afraid it’s not as simple as that,” said Heather. “Adrian said he wasn’t engaged to her, and I have an idea she was lying about it.”

Heather didn’t want to voice the possibility that Adrian really was engaged to Diana and had denied it only so he could use her to gratify his physical desires.

“Why would she lie to you like that?”“I don’t know. Maybe when she said they were

engaged she was indulging in some wishful thinking. I do know that she wants desperately to marry Adrian, and she probably thinks she can compromise him in some way. I’m worried about her.”

“Why should you be? If they’re not engaged, then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“But I do,” said Heather. “I think she’ll stop at nothing.”

She told Jill about Daphne Upshaw’s column, and about Diana’s phone call. “She told me, and so did Ross, that Adrian didn’t like to be reminded of his wife, either. And I can see why. Well, the other night at the theatre, during intermission, a man whom Adrian must have known some time ago approached him, and I suppose he mistook me for Adrian’s wife. He said ‘Linda.’”

“I guess that could be a natural mistake,” said Jill.

“Well, I would think so too, but the man . . . well, he looked straight at me and said ‘Linda.’” Adrian was dumbfounded, and for the rest of the evening he was positively boorish.”

“What did he do?”“Well, he dropped me off here at the apartment

with hardly a word. And I’ve barely seen him since then. This morning when I went in, Carlyle Slater told me Adrian was out of town until Thursday. And get this: just after lunch time, Diana’s mother came

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be the office for business reasons and let the information drop that Diana is out of town, too. And she won’t be back until Thursday.”

“Surely you don’t think . . . be serious, Heather. Adrian and Diana out of town on a ‘lost weekend’? It couldn’t be anything more than a coincidence.” But Jill didn’t really believe what she was saying. The situation just looked too incriminating.

Jill had come through some pretty tough spots herself, and she knew what Heather was going through. She took in the situation. It was obvious that Heather only found out about the coincidence by accident. Jill was considerate, and she disliked seeing her friend in trouble. She knew from experience that trouble of the heart was the worst kind.

Heather was tough. She was stoic, and she was a fighter, but Jill also knew that she was a very gentle young woman, more beautiful than she realized to the people who loved her. Jill regarded her with fond concern.

“Heather, I think you should take the bull by the horns,” she said. “Just because this Diana creature is good looking doesn’t mean she automatically wins the game. Nor does the fact that she’s rich. Think of it this way: Adrian’s already worth millions. With his kind of money lying around, why should he care to marry a rich woman? This van-whosit sounds like a conniver to me, and I bet Adrian is telling you the truth when he says he’s not engaged.”

Heather sighed. “Then why has he been treating me as if he hated me? Jill,” she exclaimed, striking the arm of the couch and rising to pace about the room, “I just don’t understand. It can’t be just coincidence that they’re both gone till Thursday. It’s too farfetched. Jill, I love him, but I’m so afraid he is only interested in a casual fling. He’s a man of considerable appetites, I’m sure of that.”

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There was obviously a lot of truth in what Heather said. What could Jill say to help ease her mind?

“Dear girl,” she said, with a matter-of-fact attitude, “just because he desires you doesn’t mean he can’t love you too. We women know that love only strengthens desire, and Adrian’s no innocent. He’s a widower and a man of the world, and women throw themselves at his head like moths gathering around a flame. And if you think about it, simply the fact that he asked you out—spent two of his valuable evenings with you, in fact—points to more that just a physical interest, at least to me. He can find women—he can find easy women anywhere.”

Heather considered her friend’s words in silence. Jill had an uncanny way of cutting right to the heart of things, and perhaps she was right. But the evidence—what Charlie Oakes would call circumstantial evidence—sure looked bad. She sat lost in a reverie, unaware that Jill had been studying her face from her little corner of the sofa.

After a moment Jill came over and put her arm about Heather’s shoulders. She gave Heather a small peck on the cheek.

“You silly, earnest thing.” she said, smiling fondly at Heather. “Don’t read too much into this business trip. Wait until Adrian comes back and you may find out some things then.

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Chapter TwelveThursday morning Heather awoke at an early

hour. She had plenty of time to get ready for work. She drank several cups of coffee, tried on several dresses to get the best effect, toyed with the idea of an early morning swim, and finally decided not to fight it any longer, but to go in to work. She was still almost an hour early.

She hoped against hope that Adrian would be pleasant to her today, that he would have missed her during his trip, that he would smile his beautiful smile and set her world right again. She was disturbed by the fact that one man’s attentions could mean so much to her. She realized more than ever that she had never before felt the stirrings of real love, never before felt the breathless excitement that one special person’s presence could generate.

It was in alternating agonies of despair and hope that she arrived at the office. Pulling her smart little red car into the office parking lot, her heart began to beat faster. One other car was already there, just one—Adrian’s silver Jaguar. Heather parked her car and hesitated, catching her breath and drawing herself up like a courageous soldier, before slamming the car door and heading up the walkway. Her low-heeled shoes made a comfortable clicking noise on the concrete. Somehow the building seemed bigger than she

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remembered and somewhat forbidding. She took a deep breath and entered.

There, on her desk, sat Adrian. And behind the desk, in her office chair, sat Diana van Horne, smiling possessively at his handsome profile.

Heather stopped, startled beyond speech at the sight of the two of them, talking in a confidential, intimate manner. Diana was holding out one jeweled hand to rest it on Adrian’s arm. In a moment they became aware of her, and Diana stood up.

“I didn’t mean to steal your chair, dear,” Diana cooed.

Heather felt her temples begin to throb with anger and hurt. “That’s all right,” she said.

Diana turned her sunny smile back on Adrian. “Sweet boy, if you would just give me a lift back home, I would surely appreciate it. I’m sure Mother would be glad to see you. Maybe you could stay a little while?”

“I’m sorry, Diana,” he returned. “I’ve been away from the office too long—I have some catching up to do. But let’s get you home. You must be exhausted after your trip.”

“Heather, there are some new contracts to draw up there on your desk,” Adrian told her as he passed. He said it in the cool professional manner of a boss giving instruct- tions to his staff. When they had left, Heather walked dumbfounded to her chair.

She didn’t know which was worse—his unkindness or his indifference. Heather decided she much preferred his unkindness—at least then he was aware of her as a person. In Diana’s presence he treated her like an automaton, just one of the office staff. But she knew there was more than that in his feelings—he had told her how much he desired her. Perhaps that explained his attitude in Diana’s presence—he loved Diana, but wanted

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Heather as a plaything on the side. She felt her anger mounting.

What had Jill said? Take the bull by the horns. Go in fighting. Live dangerously. Heather wouldn’t compromise herself, but she decided she would rather lose Adrian honestly than to give him up without a fight. She would see this through. She would give Diana van Horne a run for her money. A cold satisfaction came over her at her decision. She set her lips grimly and started to work.

Adrian returned shortly and there was still no one else at the office. Heather wondered momentarily why she was the only one there. It was still twenty minutes till the office opened, true, but Ross frequently came early, and several of the other employees usually got to work in time to enjoy an extra cup of coffee before beginning the day’s work.

Adrian was humming softly as he came in, his hands thrust casually into his pockets. He came right up to Heather’s desk and stood in front of her. She was acutely aware of his lean, muscled frame and the sun flecking golden-red tints in his dark hair. She forced a smile and looked up, directly into his blue eyes.

“How have things been at the office while I was gone?” he asked.

So that was all he was interested in! His precious office. That and Diana. He must know the office was in Ross’s capable hands. But perhaps he was just making small talk.

“Things are fine, everything under control,” she replied between thin lips. Everything but her own emotions, she thought.

Just then the phone rang. It was Ross, announcing that he was among the first victims of a fall cold that was going around, and that he wouldn’t be in today.

Heather relayed the information to Adrian, and he took the phone himself, nodding gravely. As he

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talked to Ross, he slipped casually onto Heather’s desk. She felt her heart beat faster. It was exactly in this manner that she had seen him sitting here with Diana. She felt cheapened, somehow, knowing this was a common habit of his, and not necessarily an indication that he wanted to be close to her.

Before she realized it he had replaced the phone on its cradle and sat looking at her. He had given her that look before, in her apartment, when he had seemed blinded by desire. He reached his hand out, touching her throat, stroking the hollow beneath the collar of her dress.

Heather felt light-headed. His hand slid smoothly behind her neck and under her hair, caressing and exciting, tilting her head up toward his. His lips closed tenderly on hers.

Frantically she tried to will herself to fight him, but his touch and the heat of her emotions controlled her. In a moment, her arms were around his neck. She rose to meet his embrace and her lips responded eagerly to his demands as they stood by her desk, pressed against one another.

Heather felt his hands softly caressing her back. Her skin was acutely sensitive and alive to his touch, as she heard him whispering her name. It was all too electric, too hard to comprehend, and she stopped trying. Almost crying with desire and joy, she kissed him with a passion equal to his own.

Then she came to her senses. Violently pulling back from him, she said, ”Adrian, no, don’t do this to me. You’re only using me.”

The hurt showed in her eyes. If he only knew how much it hurt her, if he only knew how much she loved him, and how deeply the pain cut into her heart—the pain of being the woman he desired and not the woman he loved, surely he would not treat her this way.

Shaking with emotion, she still felt the sweet pressure of his lips on hers, still longed for it, but

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the thought of him and Diana, away together and enjoying many scenes like the one she had just played in—she couldn’t bear it.

A cloud came into Adrian’s eyes, a cloud of hurt and anger.

“Using you?” he said. “Whatever do you mean? I haven’t forced you—ravished you, my innocent, though sometimes I want you so much I almost could. Don’t you know how I’ve longed for you these past few days?”

Longed, Heather thought bleakly. He longed for me. He doesn’t love me. He had Diana. When he wasn’t holding her in his arms, he longed for me. How very flattering.

“How do you expect me to feel?” she demanded. “Last week after the play you treated me like dirt. Then you ran off and spent a week cloistered somewhere with Diana, and you still expect me to act as if everything were fine. Well, it’s not fine. I suggest we put an end to our personal relationship here and now.”

Shock was evident in his eyes. Suddenly she felt his hands holding her arms firmly, and gone was the tenderness of a few moments earlier. Heather wished she had held her tongue.

“Away with Diana?” he said. “Don’t be ridiculous, girl. I don’t know where you got such an idea.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Heather threw back at him. “You were gone till today. Diana was gone till today. I came in a seven o’clock and here you were together. I’d have to be blind not to see it. You don’t have to defend yourself to me, Adrian. Just don’t play with me.”

She raised her chin defiantly. “I may not be Diana van Horne, but I refuse to be her cheap substitute.” Her boiling rage wouldn’t let her cry out that she loved him and wanted to end this nightmare in his arms.

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Adrian looked at her a long moment more, with a look of disbelief on his face. Then he pulled her close to him again. He didn’t kiss her this time, but held her close to his chest, stroking her hair as if she were a small child in his arms. Heather stood still, trembling and near tears.

“But I wasn’t away with Diana,” he said. “Heather, it was only you I thought of while I was gone. Not her. I just happened to see her at the airport this morning and offered her a ride so Morris wouldn’t have to drive out to get her.”

He sighed and continued stroking her soft hair. She felt him rest his chin lightly on her head. Slowly she put her arms around his waist. His shirt felt smooth and cool against her hot cheek. Dear God, if he’s lying, I don’t ever want to know, she thought.

Their shared silence comforted Heather. But she was still confused and needed answers. “Adrian, Adrian, if only I could believe you.”

She heard a car door slam in the parking lot. “I have to know some things,” she said quietly. “Can we talk tonight?” She felt rather forward to ask, but his arms felt so comfortable and right around her, and she knew that whether he were lying to her or not, she must see him.

He held her away from him and kissed her brimming eyes. “Oh, you beautiful creature. Yes, of course we can talk. May I pick you up at seven?”

Heather nodded. He dropped his hands to hers and gave them a gentle squeeze as they heard the back door open to admit a couple of other employees.

“I need to look over a lot of things with you since Ross isn’t coming in today,” he said, as she dabbed at her eyes. “I want to see what’s happened while I was gone and catch up on some of my work.”

Heather mentally condemned Ross for not coming in. Adrian--back and forth from his own office, was gentle with her all day, but still being

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with him was trying, with all the fears about him and Diana preying on her mind. They were surrounded by people most of the day, and he made no further personal overtures to her, but she saw the hunger in his eyes as she moved near him, though he said nothing.

As she dressed for the evening, Heather thought about Adrian and Diana. Was it only coincidence that they were there together this morning? What kind of coincidence could it be that kept them both out of town the same days and then brought them together in the early morning hours? How simple life would be if it weren’t for Diana, she thought.

She looked out on the terrace and there, sure enough, was her little sparrow, busy at his preparations for winter.

Adrian was punctual. He was smiling when she answered the bell. Helping her into the elevator, he reminded her of a boy on his first date. He was obviously eager to make a good impression on her. His silver Jaguar was spotless, and as he drove out of the apartment lot he said, “I thought we’d go over to the Coffee House. It’s not a long drive.”

Just at that moment his cell phone rang. “Now who could that be?” he said.

Who else? thought Heather, Diana’s china doll face swimming before her eyes.

Adrian checked the caller i.d. “Bob Owens. Yes,” he said into the phone. “What? Oh, no. I don’t believe it. . . Well, yes, certainly I’ll be there in about a half hour.”

He pulled the car into a driveway to turn around. “I’m sorry, Heather. Bob says we have a well fire out near College Station. He says Booly Evens, the foreman, is sick, and there’s nobody else available who knows what to do. So I have to go out there. It will probably take me most of the night, so we’ll have to postpone out talk.”

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“Is there anything I can do?” asked Heather. “I hope it’s not dangerous.”

“Well, of course there is a certain element of danger—that’s why someone with experience has to be there. But these things happen once in a while, no matter how careful we are, and I think I won’t have much trouble getting this one under control. How about making our date for tomorrow at the same time?”

“Sure, that sounds fine to me,” replied Heather, as he pulled to a halt at her apartment.

Telling her not to expect him at the office tomorrow, and to tell Ross about the situation, he sped off.

A thousand doubts were in Heather’s mind as she let herself into her apartment. Alone with her thoughts, she stepped out onto the terrace The light from the early moon made her feel more alone than ever, and just when she had so lately been in the presence of the one man who made her senses come alive, whose very touch excited her. Only her little sparrow’s nest in the corner reminded her that she wasn’t entirely alone.

Adrian still occasionally looks at me with that curious, resentful gaze, she recalled, as if he were trying to will me out of existence. What does it mean? And yet he was jealous of David when he came to pick me up that first time, so long ago it seems, on that awful day when he saw us together at the office. He was even jealous of Bob Owens simply because Bob tried to flirt with me and asked me to dinner.

And then the trip to Pittsburgh. That was probably a mistake. Margie so completely wrought havoc and misunderstanding, as only Margie can do. Heather had to smile at the thought of Margie’s letter. Brad means so very little to me now, and yet because of Margie’s cloak and dagger

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interpretation, Adrian thought Brad and I were on the verge of marrying.

Another question crept into Heather’s mind, one she had been unwilling to consider—that Adrian would regard her as a gold digger. He was one of the wealthiest men in Houston. Why would he even look at Heather? Diana was really more his type after all. She had everything—looks, money, and experience. Oh, how she must have experience! And she had been everywhere in the world.

So he just happened to see her at the airport! Heather felt rage boiling up in her, rage against Diana and rage against Adrian. Then she paused in her thoughts. Would she even feel this way if it weren’t for her love for Adrian, her love creating this tormenting, blinding jealousy?

She could still see Diana sitting there at her desk; still see her hand on Adrian’s arm. And when Adrian spoke to her, ignoring Heather, it was just too much.

Heather though of going to Jill with her problem, but then made up her mind to keep her emotions to herself. Jill had had a tiff with David recently—nothing serious, but it was enough for her to worry about without getting involved in Heather’s problems, too.

Heather squared her chin against whatever the circumstances might be. She loved Adrian, regardless of what explanations he had about Diana, regardless of the shadow that dogged him because of Linda, regardless of the misunderstandings about David and Brad.

Things were popping at the office in the morning because of the well fire. It only added to Heather’ excite- ment. Ross was everywhere, and Heather hardly had a minute to herself all day.

Adrian had gone home about four in the morning, and Ross told her that Adrian would

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probably stay home to get some sleep until early afternoon.

The thought of the approaching evening excited Heather more than she had thought possible. Looking forward to it, she had a presentiment that it would be a happy occasion.

The day flew by, and before she knew it she was in her apartment, getting dressed for Adrian to pick her up. She remembered that the Coffee House was one of those exotic places, softly lit, where you could get any of various kinds of coffee or tea from all over the world, along with delicious pastries. It was a favorite spot for couples. She chose a dark skirt with a matching bolero over a cream-colored blouse—something she thought appropriate for the Coffee House. She had just begun to comb her hair when the phone rang.

It was Brad, of all people. It had been ages since she had even thought about him except in contrast to Adrian. Now his familiar voice came over the wire.

“Heather, sweetie, I’ve missed you.” She forced herself to be pleasant. But it was

getting late, and Adrian would be there within minutes. Brad was a dear, and it wasn’t his fault, only she was too much on edge to be very polite.

“I’ve missed you too,” she said, “but Brad, I can’t talk now.”

Now is the time to tell him it’s all over between us, she thought. But how can I do it?

He was speaking, and the meaning of his words suddenly shook her out of her resolution.

“Heather, I’m at the airport now. Just flew in to Houston International. I can’t wait to see you. I had to wait as a stand-in to get the best price, and I finally got a plane. I would have let you know I was coming, but I wanted to surprise you. I have some time off from the store.”

Heather was speechless.

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“Sweetie, how long will it take you to drive out and pick me up?”

“Well, I don’t know, Brad, not too long, but . . .”“I hope it won’t be too long. I’ll be waiting in

the luggage area.”Good Lord! What will I do? thought Heather.

There’s no way around it, I’ll have to cancel the appointment with Adrian.

Her fingers were trembling when she flipped the pages of her address book looking for Adrian’s cell phone number. What would she say? She couldn’t tell him about Brad.

“Adrian!” she said into phone. “I feel horrid for telling you this, but something has come up and I won’t be able to go with you tonight. We’ll have to make it some . . . some other time.” She had to hang up before she burst into tears.

Brad! Dropping in out of the blue, and today of all days. Heather thought to herself that he had an unpleasant way of taking things for granted—that she would even be home, and that she didn’t have any plans for the evening. He also took it for granted that she was in love with him.

But why had he taken off from work? He had never done that before, except when he was ill. The only possible explanation was that he had decided to come to Houston to “claim her.” And as much as she didn’t like to think it, his whole motive for marriage right now was probably to improve his image—a furniture store manager and pillar of society just had to be a married man.

When he spotted her at the airport, he whooped with glee and grabbed her in a rough embrace. How unlike Adrian, she thought. Brad was grinning, and Heather knew now that she was right, that his whole purpose for the trip was to “claim her.” If only he could accept that she wasn’t in love with him. How silly and childish he seemed next to Adrian.

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Adrian. He had become the man by whom she measured all others.

Heather let out an unconscious sigh as she pulled out of the airport parking lot and Brad snuggled up to her, puppy-like, slipping his arm around her shoulders in a familiar way. She was uncomfortable with the idea that Brad had spent what amounted to a small fortune to him, just to come see her. She felt almost guilty.

Soon she relaxed in Brad’s presence. He was full of news and talked on and on. They shared a very enjoyable dinner. It began to grow late, and back at the apartment she felt she had to say something about where he would spend the night.

“Brad,” she asked, licking her lips nervously, “where will you stay?”

Brad looked at her with a sort of down and out look. He reached over and patted her hand.

“Well, sweetie, I guess I could go find a hotel room somewhere, but you know how expensive that could be.”

If only he wouldn’t call me “sweetie”! she thought.

“Why don’t you let me stay here, Heather?” he continued. “I could sleep on the couch. And you’ve been away from me so long, I want to spend every minute I can with you. Don’t worry, I won’t sneak into you bedroom and take advantage of you.”

Heather had to suppress a laugh at the idea of Brad taking advantage of a woman.

She felt more uncomfortable than ever, but felt she had no choice. After all, Brad had come to her aid so long ago when she needed him most. She couldn’t just throw him out in the street when he had come all this way to be with her, regardless of what his motives were.

“Let me get you some sheets and a pillow,” she said, rising.

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Brad smiled gratefully at her and rose too. He took her in his arms and kissed her. How different his kiss was from Adrian’s! She felt oddly disloyal, and pushed him away gently.

“You big baby.” She pushed a lock of brown hair off his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t enjoyed having you here this evening. But please don’t try to kiss me like that.”

She knew it was only her attitude toward him that prevented him from proposing even now. He was probably planning to make it a formal proposal, complete with ring. How guilty the thought made her feel.

But she had to say something. “We’ll have to have a little talk about our relationship, Brad. I just . . . don’t feel that way toward you.” She bit her lip as she realized she had hurt him. But maybe this would prevent him from proposing.

Suddenly there was a small spark of jealousy in Brad’s eyes. “I’ll bet it’s somebody else. It’s probably that man at your office—what’s his name? Ross.”

Heather laughed aloud.“Ross? Certainly not. Ross is at least fifty-five

and has a son older than I am. He’s a very sweet man, but he’s happily married.” She didn’t want to admit that there was somebody else, not just now. She chuckled again at the idea that she was in love with Ross.

“Well, Heather, I still hope to make you change your mind. You know I love you.”

This sounded strange coming from Brad. As far as Heather could remember, he had never said he loved her before.

“I have always loved you,” he continued. “I want you to be my wife.”

He was fumbling in his pocket and she waited. Then it came to her. He was going to produce an engagement ring! He tried to conceal his groping,

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and a slight redness tinged his cheeks as he realized he had forgotten the ring or left it in his luggage. He glanced over at his suitcase with a purposeful look.

Heather couldn’t waste a moment. She turned him to face her. “You can’t wear me down, Brad. You have asked me to marry you before, and I just can’t and won’t. You have to realize that I don’t . . . I don’t love you that way.” She avoided his eyes and moved to the hall closet where she kept the linens.

“But maybe you will, maybe you’ll change your mind,” he called after her. He was trying to fix her eyes with his, but she avoided his gaze and after a moment he dropped his eyes. He took the sheets she offered, and she gestured toward the couch.

“I’m tired now, Brad,” she said. “Make sure the door is locked, will you? I’m going to bed.”

He wasn’t paying any attention to her. He wanted to kiss her again, but she deliberately took his head in her hands and kissed him gently on the forehead.

“Good night, Brad.”Heather woke early the next morning. She lay

in bed thinking what an inopportune time it was for Brad to have come down. Her thoughts raced to Adrian, and she relived those minutes she had spent with him last night. Oh, if only Brad hadn’t come, all the confusion about Adrian might have been put to rest by now. But Brad appeared just in time to spoil her evening. The only thing she could do now would be to tell Adrian and apologize, but then what could she tell him? Besides that, she couldn’t call him while Brad was around.

She couldn’t call Adrian too early anyway. She knew how many hours he had spent on the oil field in the last couple of days, and he would probably be thankful for a late Saturday morning sleep.

Heather heard Brad stirring and decided to go make some coffee. Brad had folded up the couch

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and was sitting in the living room in his robe. After a cheery greeting she put the coffee on and began to fry some bacon. Just then the doorbell rang.

The bacon was just getting crisp, and she had broken the eggs into the pan. “Answer that, will you Brad?” she called from the kitchen, as the doorbell insistently rang again, accompanied by a knock. “You have on your robe, don’t you? It’s probably the apartment custodian for the garbage.” She couldn’t see into the living room from her place at the kitchen range.

But wait, she thought. He picks up the trash on Monday morning. And Jill wouldn’t ring this early on Saturday. She heard Brad draw back the safety chain on the door. Her curiosity was piqued.

“Who is it?” she asked, stepping around the corner to catch sight of the door.

Brad’s back was to her. He had his navy blue robe and slippers on. Brad was a big man, but he was almost dwarfed by Adrian’s imposing form, blocking the doorway. Adrian’s face was an inscrutable mask.

Heather caught at the kitchen door to steady herself. Brad turned halfway toward her with a look of confusion. He wasn’t able to take in the situation.

Heather just caught Adrian’s white polo shirt against his rugged tan, contrasting with Brad’s blue robe, from which peeked the legs of his print pajamas.

Heather’s thoughts reeled as she realized the scene that confronted Adrian. She struggled to speak, but the words would not come. “Adrian,” she cried out, in a voice almost of despair.

Adrian’s face betrayed no emotion. “I see,” he said through his teeth. “Something did come up last night.” He turned on his heels without another word, and was gone.

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Chapter ThirteenHeather stood motionless for an instant, and

when she had grasped the implication of what Adrian had seen she turned and, heedless of the bacon and eggs frying in the kitchen, heedless of Brad’s questions, ran half stumbling into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. She threw herself on her bed and buried her head in the pillow, lost in the agony of her misery.

Brad didn’t disturb her, and she cried herself into a deep slumber. It was after nine when he roused her from her sleep.

“Sweetie,” he said, when she was fully awake, “I see now it’s true that you can’t or won’t ever commit yourself to me—to be my wife. I just came down to make a last effort.”

She knew he was lying to spare her feelings. It was obvious that he had come to Houston fully

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expecting to take her back to Pittsburgh as his wife, or as his fiancée, or at the very least to get a commitment from her.

“I wanted to see if you could ever bring yourself to learn to love me, to marry me,” he continued. “But there’s no way around it: you are obviously in love with Adrian Brook, and my greatest wish is for you to be happy. And if you can only be happy with him, so be it.” There was a trace of bitterness when he spoke.

“I’ve found out that if I leave before noon I can get a first-class ticket for the same price as my coach, because of some cancellations on the airline.”

Heather still felt dazed, still unsure of herself. But after a moment she roused herself. “Oh, Brad,” she said, attempting to be cheerful, “thank you for your kindness. I really wish you didn’t have to go, but maybe it’s best. It has been wonderful having you down.”

Sweet, complacent Brad, she thought. But she knew she could never be happy with sweet, complacent Brad. She had felt the fire surging through her veins at Adrian’s touch, had felt his lips warm on hers, and would never be satisfied with Brad’s complacency. Brad didn’t seem as complacent now, but he was the sort who mended easily. She knew it wouldn’t be that easy for her to mend.

She couldn’t bring herself to think of Adrian, not now. She felt desolate. Her whole world was crumbling. Even Brad was leaving her.

She gave Brad a little hug. “There will always be a special place for you in my thoughts, Brad. Just don’t forget that.”

“We had better go, if I want to make my plane,” he said. “It leaves before noon, and I have to exchange my ticket.”

It was a brief farewell at the airport. Heather drove slowly on the way home. She didn’t know

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what to do now, whether to call Adrian and try to explain, or let him think whatever he wanted to think. Of course she couldn’t do that, she told herself, but he surely wouldn’t believe her if she said Brad had innocently slept over on the couch.

In effect Adrian had said he would explain his jaunt with Diana, too. But what was there to explain? It was becoming more and more obvious to Heather that Adrian was keeping Diana for his mistress. Diana was hoping he would marry her, but he wasn’t planning that at all! And he wanted Heather too.

But when he had taken Heather in his arms and told her she was the only one he had thought about during those three days, he had seemed so sincere. Well, he must be a consummate actor and a consummate liar, she thought. Why do I go on loving him like I do and making myself miserable?

Now the apartment seemed almost like a prison. Heather sat down at her desk, feeling utterly dejected because she didn’t know what to do about her hopeless situation.

The doorbell broke in on her misery. Oh, God, she thought, if it’s Adrian I’ll die. I couldn’t face him.

She didn’t answer the door, and then she heard Jill banging. “Heather, it’s me, Jill. I have to talk to you.”

“Come on down to my apartment for a minute,” said Jill, when Heather opened the door. “I have something to show you. Why, Heather, you’ve been crying!”

“Yes . . . I’m about over it now. Oh, Jill, I’ve found out that my love for Adrian, my love that has been growing all these months, has taken a dive.” She looked at Jill with a wistful half-smile. “I know you think I’m silly. I still love him . . . nothing can change that. But I just don’t think now it could ever

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work out. It looks as if our relationship has come to an end before it ever really began.

“Why, what’s happened?”Heather told Jill about Brad’s visit, and about

the confrontation with Adrian that morning, without going into great detail. Jill said she just had time to keep an appointment with David.

“But—oh, you poor dear,” said Jill, “I want to hear all about it later on. Right now I have something important to show you, although now it doesn’t seem like the right time to show you.”

Together they went to Jill’s apartment. Heather sat on the sofa, and Jill pulled out a folder from the bookshelf.

“I wanted to show you this last night, but you were out when I came by. My crime file is coming up to date rapidly, and I came across this newspaper photo from three years ago. It’s a picture of Linda Brook.”

Heather was jolted by the photograph. It was almost like looking into a mirror.

No, it can’t be, she thought. This was Adrian’s wife. This was the woman who met her grisly death on the oil field—this woman who is an astounding replica of me.

Images sprang to her mind, images of Adrian’s shocked expression when he first saw her, of him shouting at her on the oil field, of Ned Roberts’ astonished look in the theatre.

“I can’t believe it,” she said when she was finally able to speak.

“Neither could I when I saw it,” said Jill. “This explains why he acted so strangely toward you, doesn’t it? I suppose it puts you . . . in an odd position.”

“I’m beginning to think I’ve been in an odd position all along, but just didn’t know it. How like a fool I must have appeared to Adrian.”

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Jill reached out and patted Heather’s arm. “Try not to worry about it too much, dear girl. I think we may be able to pull you out of your slump. I want to talk to you about it later,” she said as they walked toward the door, “but I’m late to meet David right now.” She hurried down the hall to the elevator.

Heather’s heart cried out to Jill, cried out for help. But she certainly didn’t want to interfere with Jill’s happiness.

She was almost Linda’s double, and it put her even more under her shadow. Her resemblance to Linda explained a lot of things, but it made her all the more resigned that Adrian was actually seeking a substitute for his lost love.

There’s nothing I can do about it, she thought. This is the deciding factor. I can never bring myself to go back to Brook Petroleum, or to even hope that Adrian and I could build a personal relationship. I would never be anything to him but a picture of his dead wife, even if he could tear himself away from his Diana.

She was at loose ends. She dressed and had a light supper. She had to go somewhere, anywhere, to keep from thinking about the confrontation of the morning, about Adrian’s expression as he stood there in the doorway.

Late Saturday afternoon, and Heather found herself in downtown Houston, walking through the sporadic crowds on the downtown streets. Them she was in a movie theatre, and she was watching a film that meant nothing to her. Adrian’s impelling eyes seemed to look at her from the screen. When the movie was over she was unaware of what it was even about.

That night she slept fitfully. Everywhere she saw Adrian, heard him speak, through her half-dreams.

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The next morning she had a late breakfast and sat at her desk. She had come to a resolution, and she knew what she had to do. She began to write:

Dear Adrian,I use that term of endearment not because of

convention, not because of any affection you might feel for me—God know I’ve lost all hope of that, but because it is the last time I’ll ever address you, and in its simplicity it hints at my love for you.

When you walked away from my door I knew that was the end of any relationship we could ever have. You might not believe me, but I have to tell you the truth about Brad.

We dated when I was in high school, and he was close to my family, closer even to my parents than he was to me. He asked me to marry him three times, and I refused him each time. He was a good friend, but I never loved him.

On Friday he just unexpectedly appeared in Houston and had nowhere to spend the night, so I let him sleep on the couch. I just couldn’t turn him out. The closest he has ever gotten to me is a brotherly kiss.

I know you won’t believe that, because it looked so incriminating when you came to the door, but it’s the truth. Obviously I couldn’t tell you about Brad when he rang from the airport on Friday.

I won’t accuse you of anything with Diana, but it’s plain to me that your intimacy with her would always bar any close relationship we could have.

Please believe me when I say you are the only man I could ever love. But henceforth my life will be a shadow. I won’t be a pain in your side anymore. I’m taking myself out of your life forever.

Heather

Having come to a resolution, Heather was determined not to let anything stand in her way.

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She drove out to Brook Petroleum and let herself in with her key. She glanced around at the silent desks and office equipment, at the leather covered chairs that she had scarcely noticed during working hours, but which now seemed to speak to her with Adrian’s own charm. Everywhere his personality was manifested, and she could almost feel his presence in the quiet building.

She put her few personal belongings from her workspace into a canvas bag.

In his office, she laid the letter on his desk, along with the key. She ran her hand across the back of his desk chair. How many times his back had rested there, and she suddenly felt a longing to feel his broad shoulders under her fingertips, to look deeply into his blue eyes, and to hear his voice calling her name.

There was the pen on his desk that he had cradled in his hand, the same hand she had not so long ago felt drawing her into his embrace. Involuntarily she put her fingers to her lips as she recalled the warmth of his mouth.

Tears were in her eyes as she let herself out of the building.

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Chapter FourteenHeather felt she had come to an impasse in her

life. Her entire world was crumbling, and she had no course left open to her except to leave Houston, to try to build a new life. She would go to Aunt Rita’s to stay until she was able to make some sense out of her existence. She knew her emotions wouldn’t let her think clearly, and it would take some time to decide what to do.

As soon as she got back to the apartment she began to pack. In order to make the break, she knew she would have to leave right away, not while her determination gave her strength.

Without thinking about what she was doing, she threw some personal items into a suitcase—toothbrush, makeup, a few changes of clothes: just enough to keep her for a few days. She could come back for her other belongings and to settle up with the apartment manager later, after she had cooled off.

Jill was probably gone with David. They were seldom without something to do, and they filled their time with each other’s presence. Heather couldn’t afford to be envious now. She had cried herself out, but she still felt the smallest thing would set her tears in motion again, especially when she thought of her two friends and how much in love they were. No, she couldn’t bear to face Jill, not now at any rate. Jill would understand, just as she always had understood.

Then came the thoughts of Adrian, and she kept pushing them out of her mind. The thoughts threatened to break down her resolve. Heather gave a quick look around the room. Suitcase in hand, she opened the door to go down to the car.

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Suddenly she was looking up into familiar blue eyes—it was Adrian barring the way.

Without a word he reached down and took the suitcase from her, and at the same time took her arm to gently lead her back into the apartment.

“Adrian” she said in her astonishment, “I don’t . . . I can’t . . . let me go . . .”

“Save your words,” he interrupted. His blue eyes glistened, and he seemed more commanding and more menacing than ever, but somehow more tender at the same time. His next words frightened Heather and sent a shiver down her spine.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, Miss Sinclair. You have to tell me why you’re trying to run away from me.”

He pulled her letter out of his pocket. “You can’t leave me. Don’t you see? I love you, and I want you to be my wife.”

“What are you saying? Oh, Adrian, you must be mistaken. You can’t want me, after all that’s happened. I don’t quite understand.”

“Don’t talk now, Heather,” he said, and his arm was around her, his lips warm on hers, stifling her words, stifling her sobs. She felt his hand around her waist, holding her close against his body. She knew now—had known it all along, only hadn’t realized it—that this was where she belonged: in Adrian’s arms.

“I love you, Heather, don’t you understand that?” Adrian whispered, his lips touching the delicate skin beneath her ear. “I want you, I want you to be mine. I want to convince you how I feel, and I’m impatient to do it.”

Heather couldn’t believe what he was saying, couldn’t believe she was here in his arms. She was reveling in his embrace, and her thoughts were more confused than ever.

“Brad telephoned me as soon as he got back to Pittsburgh,” said Adrian. “He wanted to let me

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know how you felt. He said the same things you have said right here in your letter. He told me . . . what I had never thought to hear—that you loved me.”

“It’s true, Adrian. I love you more than anything in the world. But I knew you couldn’t love me. I never dreamed you would ever hold me in your arms again.”

“You have to face reality now,” he returned. “No more dreaming. I’ll be holding you in my arms from now on.”

After a moment Heather pulled away with a look of confusion on her face. “But Adrian, what about Diana? She’s your real love, isn’t she? I know how close you’ve been to her.”

“Diana?” he said, with a slightly puzzled look. “You’ve got to be kidding. Diana means nothing to me. I’ve found out what I should have known all along: she’s been playing us both for fools.”

“But she said . . . she said you and she were to be married this winter. I thought you were engaged to her. She said you had some sort of understanding.”

“Yes, I know she led you to believe all that,” replied Adrian. “I know it now. Yesterday after Brad called, I tried to get in touch with you but couldn’t. That’s when I decided to confront her. I had already become suspicious of her—when you accused me of having been away with her. My pride was standing in my way then. But I realized then that I had to have it out with her. It turns out that she is madly jealous of you.”

“Jealous of me?”“Uncontrollably. She wanted to be married to

me in the worst way. And she wasn’t simply emotional about it—she was coldly scheming. She told me everything. She confessed that she was the one who told you we were engaged. I wondered why you never said anything about it.”

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“I was afraid to. I couldn’t talk to you about marriage, or about your engagement, because I knew you were still grieving about Linda.”

“About Linda?” Adrian knitted his brows. “What kind of line did she feed you?”

“But aren’t you?” asked Heather. “She made it quite positive—and I had no reason to doubt her—that I should avoid all mention of such matters to spare your feelings.”

“I should have guessed something like that was in the works,” said Adrian. “I suppose I should have told you about Linda long ago.”

He shook his head. “I was a fool not so see what Diana was doing. And the irony of it is, you and I both responded exactly the way she wanted us to. The truth is, I was never engaged to Diana and had no plans to become engaged to her. Yesterday she told me how she’s been working at this deception all along. She tried to justify herself by the old ‘all’s fair in love and war’ idea. She said if she couldn’t have me, and these were her very words, ‘nobody else would.’”

Heather was more confused than ever. “But what about the trip you took together? Surely you can’t deny that.”

“We never took a trip together in our lives,” Adrian chuckled. “She set that up to make you think we were away together. She knew I was going to Albuquerque until Thursday morning. So she told Priscilla—her mother—that she was going off until Thursday. She knew Priscilla would let that information slip to you when she arranged to have her deliver some papers to the office.”

Heather gave a little gasp of amazement. “And I fell for it.”

“Of course you did. Diana had gone off—she went to stay with a friend until Thursday morning. Just in case Priscilla didn’t say anything to you about it, she found out what flight I was coming in on, and

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that morning she conveniently ‘happened’ to be at the airport. I wondered at the time why she was there so early, but she said she had been to Dallas to see her cousin Pat, and I didn’t think any more about the early hour. I naturally offered her a ride home.”

“But why were you and she at the office together?”

“Oh, she had that all planned too. On the way home from the airport we passed by on the Southwest Freeway, and she said she wanted to see the office, since she hadn’t been there in a long time. She must have suspected you would come in early. I suppose she was prepared to stay until you did come in, just to make it seem to you like a compromising situation.”

“Ho could anyone do that? How could she engineer such a display just out of jealousy?” Heather looked at Adrian in disbelief.

Adrian held her close. “Forget it. Just forget Diana now.” Heather could feel his heartbeat through his soft knit sport shirt.

She pulled herself away from him and sat on the sofa. “Adrian, there are so many questions left. I still don’t feel right about . . . about your wife.” Heather chose her words carefully. “Ross and Diana both told me you still grieved for Linda. I know I would always be in her shadow.”

“Heather,” he said, “you could never be in anyone’s shadow.” He sat on the sofa beside her and looked into her eyes. “You are the woman I’ve always dreamed of. Will you marry me, Heather? Will you be my wife?”

She could see in his eyes that he had never been more serious. “Oh, yes, Adrian, yes.” There were still so many questions, but, hang it all, isn’t this what she had always wanted? She felt as if tiny fires were exploding insider her.

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His arms were comfortable around her. Then he relaxed his embrace. “The story about Linda is a long one,” he said. He caught Heather’s look and continued, “but I see I have to tell you. Yes, I did love Linda, but after we had been married almost a year, I began to notice a change in her. She began to avoid me. More and more she was away from me. At first I thought I was imagining it, but soon even the office staff noticed. Somebody said something to me about it, and I blew my stack. I refused to put any credence in his story.

“Well it turns out that she just wanted to use my name and money to climb the social ladder. She told me as much. We argued about this and that—about nothing. It was a classic case of incompatibility. We simply drifted further and further apart. Oh, we kept up appearances—she agreed to that—but only in public. The situation became so uncomfortable that I secretly and almost unconsciously wished something would happen to separate us. I suffered torments, all the more because I realized that I loved her only for her beauty, and not for any qualities she possessed. She had her good points, but the most outstanding quality she had was a small, petty, and grasping nature.

“It wasn’t long after I realized what sort of relationship we had that she was killed in the most horrible accident on the oil field.”

“Ross told me about it.” “Then maybe you can understand that I’ve been

hounded all this time by guilt. I almost feel as if I caused her death.”

Adrian hesitated a moment. “Let me show you a picture of her,” he said, reaching in his pocket.

“No, I’ve already seen a picture of her,” Heather said quickly, with her hand on his arm. “I know I’m her look-alike. My friend Jill showed me her picture from some newspaper files she was working on at the police station. When I saw that, I knew you

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could never love me for myself. That’s what finally convinced me to leave.” She looked out at the leaves blowing across the terrace.

Adrian had risen, and had been pacing slowly back and forth, avoiding Heather’s eyes while he spoke of Linda. Now he stopped and pulled her up from the sofa. He held her close.

“But I’m going to prove you wrong,” he said. “I suppose you can see that I was shocked at your appearance when I first met you. Now you know why Ned Roberts acted so strangely confused when he saw you—remember him at the theatre?”

“I’ll never forget. That was the first time I heard her name.”

“Superficially you do resemble her. That’s true. But you—your personality—everything about you is so very different.

“Now I want to make you forget these problems. I want to make you forget her, and Diana, and Brad, in my arms.”

Heather managed to retain her composure as the confrontation between Brad and Adrian passed before her eyes. She looked up into Adrian’s face. “Brad called you?”

“Yes. Heather, I don’t know exactly how you feel about him, but I have to tell you, he’s a noble fellow. He said he had realized during his flight that he was probably the only person in the world who could explain to me about what he was doing here yesterday morning. He knew I would believe him, even if I wouldn’t believe you. And I guess he figured I wouldn’t give you a chance to explain anyway.”

“Yesterday morning! It seems like so long ago. I suppose I can’t blame you for the way you reacted when you saw him here . . .”

“In his pajamas.”Heather managed a sheepish smile. “Yes, he

was in his pajamas, wasn’t he?”

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Adrian returned her smile. “I had to find you this morning,” he said. “You can’t imagine how I felt when he told me what he did. I had already suspected that you were holding him at arm’s length, and he confirmed it. I was afraid you’d do something silly, like running off.

“I must have just missed you this morning. When you didn’t answer your bell, I went down the hall to find your friend Jill, to see if she knew were you were. She confirmed everything Brad had said, by the way. She didn’t have any idea where you might have gone, but suggested that you might have gone to the office. I raced over there. You car wasn’t in the lot, so I went in to phone from the office. That’s when I found your letter. I thought I was too late when you didn’t answer your telephone.” He glanced at the letter lying on the coffee table. “You can see I’m not jealous of anybody anymore.”

”It was David who had me worried for a long time,” said Heather. “I played it up too much, after I deduced that you thought we were going together. When you saw us together at Hermann Park . . . we seemed to be rather close.”

Adrian gave her a reassuring look. “Yes, I did think you and David were lovers. But do you remember when I picked you up for the play? That’s when I saw him and Jill in the hall, and it all became clear. He stopped me and introduced Jill as his fiancée.”

Adrian shook his head. “I really must have been a fool. I was blindly jealous of you. But I was only jealous of you because I loved you so much and couldn’t seem to make you realize it.”

Heather’s eyes were moist, and Adrian kissed the tears away gently.

“We have to think about the future instead of the past now,” said Heather, with a little shake of

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her head. She looked at her watch. “Do you realize it’s past time for lunch?”

“Then will you do me the honor?” he said, offering his arm. “Please let me take you to lunch.”

Lunch was at a delightful place on the south side that served French cuisine. Adrian said it was owned by an Italian ex-philosophy professor, and Heather remarked that if the food was any indication, his personal philosophy must have been epicurean. They spent the rest of the afternoon browsing through the shops in the Galleria Mall. It was the first time Heather had been with Adrian on an aimless, happy-go-lucky day when neither of them seemed to have a care in the world. The time they spent together was like stolen time, stolen moments, and they walked hand in hand through the beautiful mall, laughing and talking. Heather had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t going to come to an end, that he actually loved her, that it wasn’t just a beautiful dream.

They went back to Heather’s apartment and Heather made some coffee. She opened the French doors slightly and together she and Adrian watched the late afternoon sky with its changing colors, pinks and oranges accented by streaks of deep blue.

Heather realized that for the first time in a long while she was contented—both contented and excited, being close to the man she loved and knowing he loved her in return.

“I’m afraid I still have some explanations and some apologies to make, he said, putting down his coffee cup momentarily. “I suppose I should start at the beginning.”

“Before I start, though, you have to realize that I’m starting over, so to speak, starting a new life. Nothing in my past,” he said with an elfish look, “my deep, dark past, can possibly have any effect on the way I love you.”

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She squeezed his hand. Words wouldn’t come to her, but the meaning of her look was clear, and he accepted the invitation to a kiss.

She responded warmly to his kiss. “Oh, Adrian,” she whispered, I’ve never been so happy. Let’s not talk about the past—I’m afraid, afraid that it will drive our happiness away.”

“I will talk about the past,” he said in a gentle tone. “Only when we have driven away the shadow of the past can we step forth bravely into the future.”

Together they sat on the sofa. “The past is our past,” he began, “it concerns you and me. When I walked in and saw you in the office that first day, I immediately thought how strikingly you resembled Linda. It was quite a shock to me. And I must admit it has bothered me many times since then, although the more I know you, the more I realized you don’t resemble her at all except in a superficial way.”

“You often would look at me as if you were . . . suspicious,” said Heather. “It was because of my resemblance to her. I understand it now, but it hurt me at the time.”

“I’m sorry. You can see how I felt. I would often study your face to see how close the likeness was. But now I don’t think you resemble her at all.

“That first day we worked so long together, do you remember? We worked on mineral rights. Time and time again that day I glanced at you secretly. I noticed your delicious laugh and your easy beautiful manner. How unlike Linda. And how unlike Diana. How unlike anyone I had ever known. I believe that was the day I came to realize I couldn’t do with out you, regardless of what I had to do to have you.”

Heather smiled. She was thinking about those uncertain times when she first became aware of Adrian’s magnetism, when she had been afraid of him but longed to be with him at the same time. Even then she had been in love with him, but didn’t

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know it. She had told herself she hated him, and then turned around and fallen in love with this man she hated so much. Now she knew her love was genuine.

Adrian looked down at his cup. He seemed to be reading her thoughts. “Until now I’ve never had a chance to explain about that incident on the oil field.”

“Oh,” said Heather, covering her face with one hand. “I’m so ashamed.”

“You needn’t be. I’m the one who should be ashamed. When you first came onto the field, I couldn’t believe it. I was elated beyond imagination. And then, as you walked toward me so quickly, I saw that you didn’t have protection on your head, and the whole horrible scene of Linda’s death swam before my eyes. It was a déjà vu, a ghastly recall of that miserable incident. I wasn’t able to control myself, and I rushed at you as in a dream. I was shouting at you, and even now I don’t know what I said.

“The men were shocked at my actions, but they didn’t know who you were, and just at that moment the operations on the rig were crucial. So they bent to their work, and after a minute in a daze, I found you to try to comfort you and to apologize. Of course you know what happened then, and I don’t blame you for lashing out at me.”

“If only I had been able to see it, to understand your motives,” said Heather. “But I was too emotionally upset.”

“I’ve tried to explain several times,” Adrian said, “but always something came up. And then I just couldn’t bring myself to say how much you looked like Linda, mainly because I was afraid it would drive you away from me. If I told you how much you resembled her, might think I wanted you because you were like her, because you were a copy of her.

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And I couldn’t tell you about my strained relations with her.”

“When I saw her picture, that’s what I thought—that you wanted to replace her with me,” said Heather. “Diana didn’t tell me very much about Linda: obviously she didn’t know much about her. She only said that she died in an accident, and that you couldn’t accept her loss. So naturally every time you kissed me, I thought you had her image before you.”

“And actually, the opposite is true. I want you for yourself, and you are so very different from Linda.”

He kissed Heather tenderly. Then he rose and began to pace. “I was a fool to be jealous of you. Bob Owens was enamored of you—I know that. Who wouldn’t be? But I certainly shouldn’t have been jealous. Since then he’s told me that he wanted to take you out because he thought it would make Jane jealous. You and I both know how shy he is. He can tell me how he likes Jane, but he can’t bring himself to tell her.”

Heather laughed with Adrian. “All this time Jane was pining for him,” she said, “and I thought Bob didn’t care for her—didn’t even notice her. But here’s something even stranger than that: Margie said she thought I would be perfect for Bob.”

Adrian smiled. “But Margie nearly ruined things for me when

she told you I had gone to Pittsburgh to marry Brad,” continued Heather. “The truth is, Brad made me feel so guilty I just had to go see him in the hospital. And I was able to take care of some business matters at the same time.”

Adrian raised an eyebrow. “And all that time I thought you were actually planning to elope with Brad.”

“Did you know that Margie is in love with you?” asked Heather. “It would have been, and I quote,

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‘the love affair of the century,’ if one of the two principals had cooperated.” Heather told Adrian about the tryst at Bagby and McKinney, and, trying not to make Margie look too foolish, about the way Margie’s romantic plans had turned out.

“I knew about Margie falling for me a long time ago,” said Adrian. “She’s not really in love with me, you know. It’s only an infatuation.”

“Still, she’s in for quite a shock when she finds out about us,” put in Heather.

The autumn sun sent a beam of light into the French door. Adrian gazed out. “I can remember as if it were yesterday,” he mused. “When you stayed late to help me with the Atlantic Oil agreement, I realized that you were the only woman for me. Now I can tell you—maybe you’ll forgive me for it—I knew you had taken the Coast Petroleum papers home. I didn’t really need them. I just wanted to see if you’d invite me in.”

“How sneaky,” she exclaimed, with a crinkle in her eyes.

“I admit I got carried away in your apartment,” said Adrian. “I wanted to tell you then how I felt. With your arms around me and your beautiful eyes looking into mine I was unable to hold back, unable to stop myself. And if you remember, you did give me some encouragement. That’s why I was surprised when you pushed me away.”

“I didn’t want to push you away, you must know that. But I still thought you were engaged to Diana--and I was playing with stolen pleasure. That’s why I stopped you. But now I don’t want you to stop, Adrian. I don’t ever want you to stop loving me.”

Again Heather felt that tremor of her heart as she rose to meet his embrace and their lips came together.

“I told you I would be holding you in my arms from now on,” he said. “Right now we have plans to make. Big plans. First I plan to change your name

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to Mrs. Brook as soon as possible. I don’t want to give you a chance to slip away from me again.”

“Oh, you’ll never get rid of me now,” she said playfully. “You’re stuck with me, mister.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against his. “Oh, Adrian, it’s like a dream come true. I’ve loved you all along, I know that now. Only my foolish ideas and misconceptions wouldn’t let me understand what my heart was saying.”

His strong arms were around her, and in his caress was the promise of ecstasy.

Heather looked over his shoulder onto the terrace. There was her sparrow—but now it was joined by another sparrow, a demure little bird. Together they were busily preparing their nest for winter.

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