The Million-Dollar Marriage. Eva Rutland

at me like that?”

      “Like what?”

      “Like I might disappear or something?”

      That was the way he was feeling. Scared. Like she might walk out of his life and he’d never see her again. This was crazy!

      “Just thinking I’m pretty stupid,” he said. “I want to know all about you, and I’ve spent all this time on me. Things I already know. So, tell me. How many brothers and sisters do you have, and where do you live, and when can I see you again?”

      “Wait, you go too fast,” she said, trying to get herself together. She didn’t want to lie to this man. But she didn’t want him to know who she was. She liked listening to him, almost as if she was sharing his dreams...like they were on the same level. Would he feel free to share if he knew? “I...I’m an only child,” she said.

      “I see. That explains that look.”

      “What look?”

      “That I - can - have - anything - I - want - I’m - a - spoiled - brat look.”

      “Now, don’t you start!” she said, feeling angry because she had always been accused of just that. “I’m not spoiled and I don’t always get what I want.” She hadn’t gotten Dirk, had she? And never mind that he hadn’t wanted her, just her money. She sat up, staring at Tony. He didn’t know about the money. He liked her.

      He was laughing. “Okay, don’t bite my head off. I see you’ve got the temper that goes with that hair. And I take it all back. You’re not spoiled. You’re working hard at...what do you do?”

      “I... paperwork,” she floundered. “For the man of the house.” That was true. She often helped her father with his business.

      “Oh, a secretary. I should have known.” He reached for her hand with its perfectly polished nails. “Much too pretty and soft to do much scrubbing. And where do you live?”

      “Where you saw me,” she said, absorbed in the calloused thumb that was stroking the back of her hand, making her feel...like she hadn’t felt for a long time.

      “Oh, a live-in secretary?”

      “Kinda.”

      “Don’t know if I like that. You’re much too pretty to be around some old fogy.”

      “He’s away. Away most of the time. He travels a lot.”

      “Good. And your parents. Do they still live in Wilmington?”

      “My mother’s dead. And my father...well, we had a little disagreement.” They had had a disagreement, hadn’t they! “Anyway, he’s away, working out of town.”

      . He could see that she was agitated by his probing, so he let up. There would be time. “Better take you home, much as I hate to,” he said. “I’ve got to start early in the morning.”

      CHAPTER THREE

      SHE couldn’t sleep. She was too keyed up. Still glowing from the most exciting evening she had spent in years.

      She laughed at herself. What, for Pete’s sake, was so exciting about sitting in a crowded little restaurant, struggling with a plateful of slippery spaghetti?

      Just talking. They had talked all the way back to the house, where he got out of the car and stayed with her until she let herself in. Protective, courteous. Too courteous. He hadn’t kissed her.

      Because of the outside lights? Because he didn’t want to?

      She felt like she had been kissed. So alive, tingling as in after a night of passionate lovemaking.

      Was it because he had asked when he could see her again? Hell, every man she ever dated asked that. Why was Tony Costello different? Why had she wanted to shout... “Tomorrow, the next day, and the next. Anytime! Anywhere!” She wanted to pin down a time. She had told him not to call the house because she wasn’t sure what kind of signal Mrs. Cook would give off. She had thought of confiding in her. The housekeeper went a long way back and had always been warm and friendly toward her, but she was also loyal to Dad. During the Dirk episode, Mel had never known which side she was on. Best not to confide.

      Confide? Good Lord, this wasn’t a conspiracy or anything like that! She was going to tell Tony all about herself, wasn’t she?

      When?

      Soon.

      How soon?

      When we get to know each other...well, better. When it won’t matter.

      It matters now?

      To me, it does. Because Tony likes me. Me. Not who I am. At least he doesn’t know who I am, and I think he likes me.

      Anyway, I like him. So much that I can’t stand to see him leave without knowing when I’ll see him again.

      So it was she who had said, “What are you doing tomorrow evening?” Then wanted to bite her tongue because he looked so surprised. She was surprised herself. Usually it was her escort, not she, who was eager.

      “I have school,” he said. “I missed tonight. Can’t afford to miss too much. What about Sunday?”

      “Good,” she said, disappointed. Four days away. “We can go on a picnic. I’ll fix us a lunch.”

      He looked embarrassed. “I meant Sunday night. You see, Sunday is my only day off and the only time I get to work at the farm.”

      “You weren’t kidding, were you?”

      “Huh?”

      “You really don’t have time to date.”

      “Not until you,” he said with such emphasis that her breath caught. He did like her! “Sunday night? We could take in a movie or go dancing. Whatever you like.”

      “You said you work at the farm,” she said, absorbed in his eyes. They seemed to promise...something. “Why...I mean, what do you do out there all day?”

      “Lots of things. And...well, right now I’ve got a few lilies ready for the Easter market. Got to fix them for delivery on Monday.”

      “Need some help?”

      “Now you’re kidding.”

      “No, I’m not. I could help you plant or hand you things...whatever.” Anything. Just so she could be with him. “Anyway, I want to see your grandma’s rock garden.”

      He was silent for a moment and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She breathed a sigh of relief when he finally said, “You don’t know what you’re in for. But...okay, it’s a deal!”

      And now she was so excited she couldn’t sleep. She got out of bed, walked to the window and looked out at the night. How could she wait till Sunday?

      And she’d have to confide in Cook. No way could she explain being picked up in a truck early Sunday morning.

      

      “Damn it! You got the car, didn’t you! You said you’d turn the soil and...”

      Tony held the phone away from his ear, but Pedro’s tirade came through loud and clear. “I didn’t say this weekend.”

      “You said when I was ready. I’m ready.”

      “Ah, come on, Pedro. I got a date...sorta.”

      “What do you mean...sorta?”

      “Another date, Tony?” Rosalie broke in.

      “Oh, hi, Rosie. Didn’t know you were on the line.”

      “Hi. Just picked up to call Mom and heard you and Pedro squabbling. Gee, Tony, you had a date the other night. Again today? That’s good. You haven’t had a date in months. Same girl or—”

      “Will you