A Night to Remember (7 page)

“I've had Martha prepare your usual room, Joshua. And Eleanor is in the blue room,” Rosemary said. “I hope that is all right.”

“That's fine.” Joshua held up his hand. “Please, don't trouble yourself. I know the way.”

On cue Eleanor rose from her seat while Rosemary sat back on the sofa. Joshua grabbed Eleanor's arm and steered her through the wide, arched doorway. She barely had time to cast an apologetic smile at her hosts as she was whisked away.

The older servant, Martha, joined them as they climbed the enormous grand staircase to the third floor. Their luggage was nowhere in sight. Someone, perhaps Martha or the aforementioned Robert, had apparently delivered it to their rooms, confirming Eleanor's initial impression that this place was more like a four-star hotel and less like a real home.

“I know you haven't eaten since we left Philadelphia,” Joshua said when they reached the third-floor landing. “You must be starved. Would you like me to have a tray sent up from the kitchen?”

“No thanks. I'll just wait until dinner.”

Eleanor was surprised to realize that her early hunger had indeed vanished. Amazing. After years of searching she had finally discovered the perfect diet. If this sniping between Joshua and his father kept up for the next four days she would never be able to swallow anything past the lump of tension firmly lodged in her throat. For once it would be very simple to lose some weight.

“I'll come to your room at seven-twenty so I can escort you down to dinner.”

The sound of Joshua's deep, male voice startled her. She had been so caught up in her jumbled thoughts and feelings she was paying little attention to her surroundings. Eleanor lifted her head to reply, but Joshua was already gone. Only the smiling Martha remained.

The servant held open a heavy wood door and respectfully stepped aside. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, Eleanor entered the room. Martha quickly followed. She crossed to the windows and pulled back the heavy drapes. Bright sunlight filled the large room.

Martha started moving around the room, showing her the closets, the television and CD player cleverly hidden inside an antique armoire, how to switch on the various ceiling fans, how to adjust the room temperature, how to call down to the kitchen if she wanted something.

“The room is very pretty,” Eleanor muttered, not sure what else to say. “I'm sure I'll be very comfortable. Thank you, Martha.”

After extracting a promise from Eleanor to ring immediately if she needed anything, Martha left.

The moment the door closed behind her, some of Eleanor's tension eased. She flopped onto the enormous four-poster bed and wondered if it would be possible to hide out in this enchanting room for the rest of the visit. She had a lovely, comfortable room, a suitcase full of books, a marvelous view of the ocean, a kitchen at her disposal probably twenty-four hours a day. What else could she possibly need?

Well, maybe a bathroom. Eleanor rolled onto her stomach and glanced around her spacious quarters. There were several doors. Martha had opened most of them during her tour, but Eleanor had felt too uncomfortable to pay close attention. Dimly she remembered a glimpse of pale yellow tile and an old-fashioned bathtub with claw feet that looked big enough to swim laps in.

Curious, she walked to the far side of the room and pulled open a door. Closet. With all her clothes already unpacked and hanging neatly inside. Flushing, Eleanor opened a second door. Another closet. Spare blankets, extra pillows, even a woman's bathrobe.

Eleanor smiled. Heck, this was even better than a four-star hotel. Getting into the spirit, she contemplated the remaining two doors.

“Hmmm, let's see.” She tapped her index finger impatiently against the side of her cheek and then lunged for the door of her choice. Gleefully she yanked it open.

And discovered a half-naked Joshua Barton on the other side.

Eleanor's hand dropped away from the door handle. A shiver ran down her spine, but she stood very still, not daring to move. He was in the process of getting dressed and hadn't noticed her invasion. Perhaps if she backed away very slowly, very quietly, she could leave before he even detected her presence.

She tried putting one foot behind the other. Honestly. But movement suddenly became impossible as every ounce of her attention became riveted on the man in front of her.

He had changed into a pair of cut-off jean shorts and was shrugging on a well-worn light blue oxford shirt. His hair was tousled, his feet bare, and a fair part of his naked chest was in plain view. Eleanor's heart started thudding. She told herself sternly it was the shock of discovering him on the other side of her bedroom door.

It was not, she insisted, the fact that he looked so outrageously handsome in such a disheveled state or the realization that they were going to share
connecting rooms
for three nights.

He turned away and bent at the waist, probably to pick up his shoes. The seat of his shorts tightened over his rump. It wasn't fair. Even the man's butt was beautiful.

The world began to shift around her. At a loss for words, feeling more and more like a voyeur, Eleanor finally cleared her throat. Loudly.

Joshua whirled around. His eyes flew to her face, and Eleanor was jolted by the impact of his sexy, assessing gaze.

“Hi.” Eleanor took a deep breath and worked hard to swallow. Determinedly she kept her eyes above his waist. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves, and her gaze lingered there. His forearms were strong and solid and tanned, with a light dusting of dark hair.

“Eleanor? Are you all right?”

“What?”

“You're just standing there. Staring.” He rested his hands on his hips. The shirt gaped open, revealing more of his chest. “Is something wrong?”

She could feel herself blushing. Well, of course she was staring. He was the most physically perfect male on the planet. And he was waiting for her to answer him.

“Our rooms connect.” It was a totally obvious statement, but the best she could come up with at the moment.

Joshua straightened and his eyes locked with hers. “Connecting rooms is about as far as my father's Victorian sensibilities will go. I hope you don't mind.”

“I don't mind,” Eleanor whispered. The words were barely out of her mouth when she caught her breath. How in the world was she going to get any sleep knowing he was lying so near? “I'm a bit surprised, that's all. And confused. Apparently your father is under the impression that we're a couple.”

Joshua sank down on the edge of his bed. “Is that a problem?”

She shook her head, then frowned. “I realize that you and your father have some unresolved . . . issues.”

“Issues, huh?” Joshua snorted and slapped a sock onto the bed. “I suppose that's one way of putting it.”

Eleanor shoved her hands in the pockets of her skirt. Both his tone and attitude told her loud and clear he didn't want to discuss this with her, but she plunged ahead anyway.

“Listen, Joshua, I feel like I've walked into a movie right smack in the middle of the film and I don't have any idea what's happening. I'd really appreciate a little clarification.” She lifted her left foot and rubbed the side of her right ankle with the tip of her shoe. “Are you telling me you want to pretend that we are a couple for the entire visit?”

She saw the tendons in his neck tighten. He waited so long to answer that she feared he wasn't going to.

“It would make things a whole lot simpler if we didn't bother to correct my father's initial impression of our relationship. Unless you have a problem with that,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

The very idea makes my stomach queasy.
Yet for once her thoughts mercifully did not reach her tongue. Eleanor tried to weigh the pros and cons rationally, but that was impossible. He was offering her the chance to live out her deepest, most forbidden fantasy by pretending to be his girlfriend. Who could it hurt?

“If that's what you really want, then I won't volunteer any information to correct the impression your father and Rosemary already have about our relationship.”

“Great.” He smiled at her. “Oh, and one more thing. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't mention that you work for the firm.”

Eleanor blinked. “You want me to lie about my job, too?” she asked, still reeling from the notion that they were going to pretend to be a couple for the next few days. And nights.

Joshua flinched. “Not lie, just omit some of the details. I'm sure my father is going to want to know why you are so interested in Rosemary's books and how you've come to know so much about them. I figured we could tell them that you work in a library, in the children's department. That's not a lie.”

Eleanor's eyes darkened with wariness. “This is starting to get rather complicated. And I must confess, I have the distinct impression that you aren't telling me everything.”

Joshua flushed and averted her gaze. She experienced a grim sense of satisfaction, knowing she was right. Eleanor leaned against the doorjamb and waited for an explanation.

She watched him slip his bare feet into a pair of well-worn Topsiders. Then he stood up and came toward her. She couldn't help but notice how his physical perfection was still intact, even in these ultracasual garments. He stopped a few feet in front of her and for a moment Eleanor wasn't sure what to do. Move forward or step back?

“One of the first policies I enacted when I took charge of the company was the rule that employees were not permitted to date each other,” Joshua said. “It hadn't been much of an issue until then, since we hired so few females, but we were making a conscious effort to hire a more diverse work force and that included actively recruiting minorities and women. In an age of sexual harassment lawsuits the no-dating policy seemed like a sensible and prudent way to protect the firm. My father thought otherwise.”

“He didn't agree?” Eleanor's feet shifted from side to side.

“That's putting it mildly.” Joshua sighed and rubbed the back of his neck vigorously. “We argued about it for a solid week, then had a showdown at the monthly board of directors meeting. The board sided with me. Two days later, my father retired from the firm.”

“Oh.” The bleakness in his voice touched her heart. “So if your father and Rosemary believe that we're dating, then I definitely can't be working for Hamilton, Barton and Jones. It would be a gross infraction of the rules.”

“Precisely.”

Eleanor crossed her arms protectively across her chest. “I know I already said it, but it bears repeating. This is starting to get very complicated. And I think it is only fair to warn you, Joshua, I'm not a very convincing liar.”

Joshua grimaced slightly. “Don't worry, you won't have to be. My father won't be asking you many personal questions about our relationship.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Frankly, he really doesn't care very much about what goes on in my life.”

Joshua had his emotions under control by dinnertime. A long walk on the warm beach, along with some contemplative moments on the dunes, had forced him to reevaluate his motives. He had come to North Carolina to make peace with his father. Not to start another war.

Consequently at dinner he kept the conversation focused on neutral topics and was rather proud of himself for completely ignoring two of his father's jibes. Of course Eleanor's concerned looks and anxious expression helped keep Joshua focused on his goal.

Eleanor was turning out to be a strong ally. He appreciated her quiet acceptance of the situation and her gracious compliance with his request for help. And as dinner progressed he came to realize more and more how lucky he was to have her with him this weekend.

Both his father and Rosemary seemed very taken with Eleanor. Joshua rubbed his fingers on the stem of his wineglass and smiled. Hell, it didn't take a genius to see that they probably liked her a whole lot more than they liked
him.

He took a bite of his crab cake and gazed across the table at her. Despite the formal dining room setting where the four of them sat beneath two Waterford crystal chandeliers at a table that could easily seat twenty people, it was a casual dinner. There were no hovering servants, no complicated table settings, no elaborate courses with dramatic presentations.

Instead all of Joshua's favorite childhood foods had been served, and he wondered briefly who had been responsible for the selection. The family cook?

“Tell me a little bit about your books, Rosemary,” Joshua said as one of the younger maids cleared the dinner plates. “Where do you get your story ideas?”

Rosemary's eyes widened in astonishment. She swallowed the food in her mouth and gave him a weak smile. “Actually, many of my books are inspired by moments from my own childhood. I was never blessed with children, so when I first started writing my editor suggested that I take the deepest, darkest, most embarrassing secret about myself and put a humorous twist on it.

“Naturally it was hard to choose just one.” Rosemary's smile widened. “However, I eventually decided to write a story about sibling rivalry and I realized that being honest about my actions, reactions, and emotions to the unexpected arrival of a baby sister gave the story the one element my manuscript ideas had been missing. Total honesty.”

Rosemary looked directly at him as she spoke, and Joshua had to struggle to resist squirming in his seat. She was speaking about her books, yet it was as though she realized how fraudulent he had been with his actions, reactions, and emotions toward his father.

Joshua smiled at Rosemary, trying to demonstrate how cool and unaffected he was by her words, but it wasn't easy. Her perceptive writer's eyes saw far too much for his comfort and her comment held just enough truth to make him feel guilty.

“Did you always want to be a writer?” Eleanor jumped in eagerly.

Joshua sighed with relief. Eleanor to the rescue once again. Clearly she had been waiting for the opportunity to start asking her idol Rosemary all sorts of questions about her books but had been too polite or shy to introduce the topic.

Rosemary turned away from him and smiled pleasantly at Eleanor. “I had no interest in writing of any sort when I was a college student. My dream had always been to be an artist. I studied fine art for years, but after unsuccessfully trying to support myself by painting, I ended up designing and selling greeting cards to pay the rent. My work was brought to the attention of a book publisher by a good friend and I was invited to try my hand at illustrating a children's book.

“It was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, but the publisher was very pleased with the results. I was given steady work and continued doing the drawings for three different authors. Eventually I was offered the opportunity to create my own story. I struggled quite a bit, but truly enjoyed the challenge.

“The book received encouraging reviews, so I wrote a second, then a third. Gradually I discovered that writing and illustrating these picture books was a far more fulfilling career than I had imagined. So instead of a portrait artist, I became a children's author and illustrator.”

“You make it sound deceptively easy, my dear,” Warren said, regarding his wife fondly. “And it certainly isn't.”

A hint of color flooded Rosemary's cheeks and she blushed like a teenager. “You're biased.”

“My father's right. People who don't really understand the process think it's so easy. Just throw a few cute, colorful sketches on the page, slap on a sentence or two, and suddenly you have a children's book.” Joshua added sugar and a dash of cream to the hot coffee he had just been served and stirred it energetically with a silver spoon. “I was truly astonished when I read your books and saw not only literal but metaphorical references. I guess most adults don't expect to find that level of sophistication in a story written for children.”

“You've read some of my books?” Rosemary asked with surprise. She exchanged a delighted glance with her husband. “Your father was very embarrassed when we first met because he had never seen any of my work.”

“It's not like I have any grandchildren to read your books to,” Warren defended himself gruflly “Not yet, anyway”

Joshua dropped his spoon. It clattered loudly onto his dessert plate. Grandchildren? Since when did his father's thoughts start encompassing grandchildren?

“I'm pleased to say my influence has rubbed off on Joshua,” Eleanor said with a nervous smile. “Though he doesn't share my passion for these wonderful books, he is definitely learning. I have high hopes he'll come around one day.”

“Somehow I have trouble imagining Eleanor reading you a bedtime story, son,” Warren said with a sly grin.

Eleanor made a short, strangled sound and blushed purple. Warren shot her an odd look.

Rosemary frowned pointedly at her husband and dabbed her mouth with her linen napkin. “Dare I ask if you have a favorite picture book, Joshua?”

“Well, I am partial to General Explorer.”

“Ahh, one of my few human characters.” Rosemary sat back in her chair, as a faraway, pensive look lit her eyes. “General Explorer was originally modeled after my late husband, but then Jerry got sick and I couldn't concentrate on the story. After he died I found it impossible to work on the book without bursting into tears, so I threw out all my original sketches and started over.

“But for the first time in my career, I couldn't draw, couldn't write, couldn't create. Every decision I had to make seemed so monumentally important that I became totally frozen. I was incapable of making a choice and sticking with it.”

“Writer's block,” Eleanor diagnosed sympathetically.

“Perhaps.” Rosemary pursed her lips. “But at the time all I felt was ineptitude.”

“It's a terrific book, so we know that you managed to finish it,” Joshua said. “How did you unblock yourself?”

“I forced myself to work,” Rosemary said simply, but Joshua could tell there was nothing simple about it. Clearly this had been a big professional hurdle. “My editor was wonderful. Very patient and supportive. Each morning I would work on my character sketches and then fax my drawings to New York. By the time I started working the next morning, I'd have a page of notes and suggestions. It kept me grounded and focused and helped me believe I could somehow write the book.

“After almost three months of working that way both the editor and I felt we were finally getting close to expressing the essence of General Explorer. Then miraculously one day it all seemed right. I made a few more adjustments, faxed the changes to my editor, and he called me right away. To say he loved it. What a relief.”

“So you were happy with the book?” Eleanor inquired.

“It was a milestone for me in many ways,” Rosemary replied. “I remember the lovely party my publisher generously threw to introduce the book. I flew to New York and had a fabulous time. There were book signings all over Manhattan. It was very exciting.

“My editor came with me to most of them. It was delightful having an opportunity to meet him at long last. We even had a chance to work together, in person, instead of by phone and fax, on a few future story ideas. I found him to be a very talented and creative young man.”

Rosemary folded her napkin and placed it on the edge of the table. “I also understood why at last, after so many months of drawing and revisions, he finally liked the drawing of General Explorer so much.”

“Why?” Joshua asked.

“Well, I realized after spending so much time with him that the final drawing of General Explorer looked exactly like my editor.”

Everyone laughed. Joshua glanced over at his father. The older man's eyes twinkled with merriment, but there was something more in his face. Real happiness and contentment. An easygoing, relaxed element that in Joshua's opinion was almost foreign to his father's personality.

Joshua's eyes shifted between his father and his father's wife. Rosemary glowed with good humor. She gave her husband a sly look that spoke volumes. Warren returned her teasing glance with a wink.

Joshua suddenly felt like an intruder, witnessing this private, almost intimate exchange. He could clearly sense the glimmer of passion beneath the surface of those glances and it made him very uncomfortable.

Eleanor's soft voice distracted him. She was asking Rosemary additional questions about her books and her writing. Astonishingly, his father answered one, sounding very knowledgeable. Rosemary smiled approvingly at her husband.

The older man appeared to blush. It had to be a trick of the light, Joshua instantly decided. His father blushing? He stared harder at the older man, then jerked his head over to look at Rosemary.

Though separated by the considerable length of the dining room table, Rosemary and Warren seemed to touch, to connect with each other. The knowing glances, the comfortable smiles, the affectionate expressions all spoke of their deep feelings and commitment. They were a couple, a team.

An unexpected knot of resentment tightened inside Joshua. He knew his parents had loved each other deeply, knew his father had grieved at Joshua's mother's untimely death. Yet clearly his father had recovered from his sorrow, had successfully gone on with his life. Had apparently forgotten all about the woman who had been his wife for over thirty years and had given birth to his only son.

The resentment confused Joshua. It made him feel petty and small. But it wouldn't go away. He looked at his father's smiling face one last time and knew he needed to leave . . . quickly, before these odd feelings overwhelmed him, took control of his tongue. Forced him to say things that were best left unsaid.

“If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll stretch my legs,” Joshua announced to no one in particular. He stood up abruptly and his chair, pushed off the lush Oriental area rug, scraped loudly against the hardwood floor. Making no further explanations, he escaped the room.

The silence seemed outrageously loud behind him. But Joshua didn't pause to consider it. He kept walking. Through the sitting room, the sun room, past the maid tidying up in the library, then finally out the French doors at the rear of the solarium, into the blessed cool air of the night.

He strolled aimlessly along the lower veranda, trying to move the direction of his thoughts. His feelings were childish and downright ridiculous. His father was a grown man. He had been a widower a long time. It was only right that he move ahead with his life, try to find some joy and happiness. In his heart Joshua knew he didn't want his father to spend the rest of his life alone.

Yet somehow knowing that his father had found a terrific woman, a soul mate, made Joshua feel lonelier than he ever had.

He continued walking toward the back of the house, stopping when he reached his favorite observation spot. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the wide railing. Taking a deep, full breath Joshua stared off into the distance, his eyes drawn to the dark vastness of the ocean. The steady lull of the tide and pounding of the surf set up a soothing rhythm in his head. Gradually he felt his body's muscles begin to unclench.

“Is everything okay?”

The gentle, female voice broke through the stillness. He didn't have to turn his head to know the moment Eleanor reached his side. He could feel her nearness.

“I hope I wasn't too rude before, but I really needed some fresh air,” he said.

“Hmmm. Did you drink too much wine at dinner?”

Joshua forced his head around. Her words were flippant, but her tone was steely.

“I needed some fresh air,” he repeated. “All that laughter and good cheer and cozy feelings were starting to give me a headache.”

“Of course.” Eleanor's lips grew thin and taut, but she didn't say anything else. Yet the hint of challenge in her eyes spoke loud and clear.

Joshua lazily straightened himself. He tried to stare her down, but this time it didn't work. Perplexed, he rubbed his chin with the back of his knuckles. “I'm acting like a real jerk, right?”

The challenge in her eyes was immediately replaced with understanding. “I know this must be difficult, accepting Rosemary as part of your family. But time goes on. Circumstances change and people are forced to go forward, to adapt. Nothing stands still.”

Her words were not especially original, but they struck a sympathetic chord inside him. “You want to know the strangest part of this whole situation? I like Rosemary. She's classy, smart, gracious, funny. And she's crazy about my father. He's a very lucky man.”

“But . . .” Eleanor prompted.