Always Friday (5 page)

Something happened to her chest. She couldn’t breathe. She
felt dolphins playing in her stomach and fireflies lighting up her brain. “You
do?” Her voice seemed even hoarser than usual.

“I do.”

For a moment she thought he was going to kiss her, then he
dropped his hand and turned to the portraits again. Why had he stopped? She
wouldn’t have minded. After all, he was hers already. They belonged together.
He just didn’t know it yet.

*    *    *

“Damn!” Daniel slammed the phone down. “Hard-headed little
witch,” he muttered as someone tapped on the door. “Come in,” he growled.

Martha Craven fluttered into the living room of the cottage.
“Am I interrupting something?”

Struggling to calm his temper, he said, “No, Gram.”

His tiny grandmother dropped a kiss on his cheek. “Danny,”
she said, smoothing his hair from his forehead, “something has upset you. You
looked much better at breakfast this morning. What happened?”

“I just talked to Kathy. Or at least I tried to talk to Kathy.
She informed me that she’s instructed her secretary not to take any more calls
from me. Until today I thought Ruth was my secretary.”

“Oh, is that all?” Martha Craven pursed her lips and her
blue eyes twinkled as she settled on the sofa beside him. She laced her fingers
together in her lap. “I thought it was something serious.”

“Serious? It’s damned serious! How am I supposed to keep the
company afloat if I can’t have access to it? I’m the president, for God’s sake!”

“Now, dear.” Gram leaned over and patted his hand. “Don’t
get in a stew. Remember your health. Dr. Shafer said that you were to stay away
from the stresses of the company. Kathy’s not accepting your calls for your own
good. She wants you to be well and happy. She can handle the business just
fine. I have every confidence in her.”

Daniel scowled, stood up, and raked his fingers through his
hair. “I’ve got to get back to Pittsburgh right away.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he said with measured words, “our family and a
lot of other families depend on Friday Elevators. Have you forgotten that you
invested your entire fortune in the company to help save it after Dad was sick
for so long?”

“Danny, your health is more important to us than money.”

“Gram, I’m the president and I’m responsible.”

Martha Craven sighed and worried the pearls at her lace
collar. “No, you’re not.”

“Of course I’m responsible. You can’t expect Kathy—”

“Danny, you’re not the president.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“The board of directors made Kathy acting president for a
three-month period. At that time, they’ll reevaluate the situation, including
your health and your wishes.”

“The board of directors? What are you talking about, Gram?
With my stock and yours and Ted’s proxies, I control the board of directors.”

Gram fidgeted as Daniel stared at her, awaiting her answer. “Teddy
and I reassigned our proxies to Kathy.” Her words were barely a whisper.

Daniel dropped his head and uttered an expletive that he was
sure made his grandmother blush.

“It’s only temporary,” she assured him. “Until you’re well
again.”

Shuddering as he sucked in a gulp of air, he sat down on the
edge of the sofa. Elbows on his knees, he clamped his hands together and stared
at the floor. Frustration, anger, and self-disgust played tag in his head. Never
in his life had Daniel felt like such a useless piece of garbage. Damn his
mutinous body! He couldn’t even take care of his family.

His bare feet propped on an ottoman, his fingers laced
across his middle, Dan sat slumped in an easy chair and stared at the wall. The
baggy gray sweatpants and old Penn State jersey he wore had, like him, seen
better days. He hadn’t showered or shaved in two or three days, but he just
didn’t give a damn.

Outside, the sun was shining, but inside the cottage it could
have been midnight. The blinds were closed, the drapes were shut, and not a
single bulb burned to dispel the gloom. The darkness suited him just fine. He’d
had a bellyful of sunshine and cheer from Gram and that whole crazy bunch she
was mixed up with. They seemed to expect him to act as if nothing had happened.

But something had happened, and it gnawed at him like rats
eating through litter in a back alley. Not only had his body betrayed him, but
his family had betrayed him as well. Even Gram. Under the guise of “doing it
for his own good,” they had sneaked around behind his back and taken the
presidency from him. That had hurt. Hurt badly. He could have handled things if
they’d given him a chance.

He knew he’d acted like a bastard to everybody since he’d
found out what his family had done. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. He
hated this feeling of uselessness. The pain and the anger festered in him like
a septic sore.

Somebody knocked on the door. He ignored it.

“I know you’re in there, Friday,” Tess yelled. “Open the
door.”

Daniel raked his fingers through his hair. Hell, he didn’t
want to see anybody now. Especially Tess. Having her witness his shame rankled.

The banging grew louder. “If you don’t open the door, I’ll
have Hook come break it down.”

She probably would. He muttered a curse and heaved himself
out of the chair. He unlocked the door and opened it a crack to order her to
leave. But before he could make a sound, she shoved her way inside.

“It’s like a cave in here,” she said, setting down the tray
she carried.

“I like it dark.”

Tess ignored his comment. She marched around the room,
throwing back curtains and opening blinds with a missionary zeal. When she’d
finished, she turned and flicked her eyes over him from his bare feet to his
favorite old sweatpants and ragged jersey that Kathy had sent with some other
clothes.

She frowned. “You look awful.”

He knew how he looked, but having her say it ripped at the
tattered remnants of his pride. His gaze passed over the green drawstring pants
she wore to the oversized pullover with a large hand painted lion on the front.
“Thanks. And I see you’re sporting your haute couture today.”

Her chin lifted. “You don’t have to be insulting. These are
my work clothes.”

He plucked the front of his jersey. “These are my work
clothes, too. I’m practicing being a bum.”

“You’ve succeeded. I brought your lunch.” She picked up the
tray and gestured toward the rattan dining table.

“I’m not hungry.”

She pursed her lips and drew in a deep breath. “Dan, you
have to eat properly or you’ll never get well. Your grandmother is worried out
of her mind.”

He scowled. “I said I’m not hungry.”

She was furious at this stubborn man who had so disrupted
her household. Everyone had tried to be patient and understanding and
appropriately sympathetic, but in the week he’d been here, Dan had become
progressively more surly. He had rebuffed any offer of kindness and had finally
holed up in the cottage, refusing even to join the family at mealtimes. Aunt
Martha was crying and hiccupping; Ivan was beside himself; and Aunt Olivia, who
never let anything bother her, was in bed with a migraine.

Sweet, gentle Hook had curled his gigantic hands into fists
and said to Tess, “You handle that dude, or I will.”

Hook was right. They had tiptoed around him long enough. The
time had come for a different approach.

She shoved the tray against his midsection. “You’re damned
well going to eat this if I have to hold you down and force-feed you.”

Daniel snatched the tray from her and hurled it out the
front door. When he turned back to glare at Tess, his eyes were narrowed.

She glared back at him. “Cute, Friday. Very cute. If you’ve
got any ideas of tossing me out with your lunch, guess again. I’ve been taking
karate lessons and I’m damned good.” Fists on her hips, she ground out her
words through clenched teeth. “What’s the matter with you? You’ve been spoiling
for a fight for days. Everybody has been trying to help you and you’ve been
acting like a first-class jerk.”

“I don’t need any help from you or anybody. Get out of here
and leave me alone,” he roared.

“If you’re so miserable here, why don’t you go back to Pittsburgh?”
she shouted.

“I’m not leaving my grandmother alone with a bunch of weirdos!”

“Weirdos? Who are you calling weirdos? You’re the one who’s
weird. Those people,” she enunciated, waving her hand toward the house, “are loving,
caring human beings. One of them gave you his blood and has been toting trays
out here so you won’t starve!” Tess was in his face and punctuating every word
with a jab in his chest. “Another one is distraught because you’ve been picking
at your food. Poor Ivan spent two hours preparing the lunch you just pitched
out in the yard! One of them—”

Dan grabbed her by the shoulders and ground his mouth
against hers. It was not a kiss; it was an angry, bitter silencing. When Tess
struggled to pull away, his hand captured the back of her head and held her
lips to his.

His stubble scratched her face and her teeth were mashed
against her lips. Yet even as he held her roughly, Tess could tell that he was
holding back, leashing a seething inner fury. She ceased her struggles and
stood still as a post.

After a few seconds, Dan thrust her away, turned, and
muttered, “Damn!” He slapped the wall with his splayed left hand and,
stiff-armed, leaned into it. His head dropped and his right hand curled into a
fist. “God damn!” The fist drove into the Sheetrock and punched a jagged hole.

For a moment neither of them moved. Then Dan, his fist still
buried up to his forearm, his head still down, said, “Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Tears sprang to her eyes when she heard the agony in his
voice. “You didn’t hurt me. You’re the one who’s hurting, Dan. Want to talk
about it?”

“No, I want you to leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She stepped beside him. “Let me
see your hand. I may need to put something on it.”

“Lord, go away, Tess. Don’t you know how humiliating this is
for me?”

“What is humiliating? Acting like a jerk? Throwing a temper
tantrum? Coming on to me like a Neanderthal? Getting booted out of the company
because your family cares about you? Or,” she said, her voice softening, “is it
being human and needing help?” She put her hand on his forearm, which was
covered with powdery plaster from the wall.

He didn’t answer right away. When they came, his words were
barely audible. “All of it.”

“And you feel like a failure?” She felt his muscles tighten
under her hand.

“Save the psychoanalysis.”

Tess sighed. Why were men always so reluctant to admit to
emotions? She suspected that Dan needed a good cry. It was nature’s remedy for
releasing pain, but he’d never capitulate to a few healthy tears. Men usually
masked everything in anger and aggression.

She tugged at his arm. “Let me see your hand.”

Dan withdrew his fist from the wall to reveal scrapes on his
knuckles. “I’m sorry about the hole. I’ll pay to have it repaired.”

“You certainly will. Come in the bathroom and let me clean
these scratches.”

In the bathroom, Tess washed his hand with warm, soapy water
and poured peroxide on the scraped skin. “There,” she said, recapping the
bottle, “that should do it.”

She looked in the mirror and the reflection of Dan’s gaze
met hers. The anger had disappeared. His eyes were softer, filled with a
gentler expression. The tiny room shrank. He turned her toward him and lifted
her chin.

“Tess, I’m sorry if I hurt you earlier. I’ve wanted to kiss
you since the first moment I saw you. I’ve thought about it every time I’ve
seen you. I’ve even dreamed about it, but I never meant it to be like that. I
wanted . . .” His thumb slid over the bottom curve of her lip.

Her breath caught and her eyes fixed on the little freckle
at the corner of his mouth. “You wanted?”

He gave a rueful smile. “It doesn’t matter.”

She could feel the room shrinking more, and her knees were
beginning to go weak. Every sense was attuned to the closeness of him as she
stared, mesmerized, at that little freckle. “Why not?” Her voice was almost a
whisper.

“I don’t feel like much of a man anymore.”

Her eyes rolled heavenward. “Oh, good grief!” Tess grabbed
the back of his head, pulled his face to hers and planted a kiss on Dan Friday
that would have unraveled his socks, if he’d been wearing any.

She arched her back and rubbed her breasts across his chest
and plunged her tongue between his lips. He groaned as his arms came around
her, gathering her body against his. His mouth moved over hers like a starving
man at a feast, tasting, savoring, devouring.

Heat flashed between them like spontaneous combustion. Tess
had never felt anything so potent, so overwhelming in her life. When his arm
scooped her pelvis close to the juncture of his legs, she was shocked to find
herself writhing against the hardness of him.

Gasping for breath, she pulled back and looked into his
darkened eyes. His breathing was as ragged as hers. One eyebrow lifted and her
gravelly voice was an octave deeper as she said, “Lord, Friday, you feel like a
man to me.”

His lips curved into a smile, the smile changed to a grin,
and finally he threw back his head and laughed. “Tess Cameron, you’re some kind
of woman. Where have you been all my life?”

“Waiting for you,” she said with a saucy grin. “You have
exactly thirty minutes to stop feeling sorry for yourself, shave that mess off
your face, and get dressed. I have work to do and I need a helper. You’re
elected.”

*    *    *

When Tess came downstairs half an hour later, she found Dan
sitting at the kitchen table and Ivan beaming.