If Ever I Loved You (2 page)

Twyla tugged at the panty girdle she wore to keep her
ample curves in line and sighed disgustedly. "If I gain one more pound
I'm going to have to buy all new clothes. You know something, Gina
Brown? If you weren't my very dearest friend I'd hate you. You can eat
anything and never grow out of a size seven."

Gina grinned. Twyla was a striking woman, queen-sized but
beautifully proportioned with thick auburn hair that she usually wore
in a twist up the back of her head, and warm brown eyes with golden
highlights. At thirty-nine she was an unlikely cross between earth
mother and femme fatale with one broken marriage and several casual
love affairs in her past, a lucrative career as gallery owner and
artist in her present, and who knows what in her future. She was
fourteen years older than Gina, but their seven-year friendship had
filled an aching void in both their lives.

"You're gorgeous and you know it," teased Gina. "Really,
that gown was an inspired choice. The turquoise does exciting things to
your coloring, and the long skirt drapes so gracefully around your
ankles." She sighed as she put the small brush back in her evening
purse. "I'd give anything for a little of your height."

Twyla eyed Gina and snorted. "Anyone who's built like you
doesn't need a thing from the likes of me. It's you small gals that the
men flock around, you make them feel protective. And speaking of
dresses, yours is a stunner. Wish I could wear that flamingo color, but
with my hair I'd look like a sunset in flight."

She picked up her hand-knit stole and headed for the door.
"We'd better get going, the reception is due to start at eight and the
hotel is clear across town." Gina settled her white angora jacket
around her shoulders and followed Twyla. Ah yes, there was still the
reception to get through, and that may prove to be the hardest part of
all. She shuddered slightly and wondered how long it would be before
she could slip quietly upstairs to the room Stewart had reserved for
Twyla and her. The room where she could escape to lick her wounds in
private.

The reception line was almost finished by the time Twyla
and Gina arrived at the luxurious high-rise hotel. The banquet room was
filled with wedding guests, some dancing to the lilting music of the
full orchestra, others filling dishes with exotic food from the buffet
table, and here and there stood knots of people deep in discussion.
Gina hugged Cindy and Bob, shook hands with Cindy's mother as she
murmured a polite greeting, and kissed Stewart lightly on the cheek,
uncomfortably aware of his ex-wife standing next to him.

His arms closed around her and he held her close as he
murmured. "You can do better than that, darling. I'll be free in about
fifteen minutes, save me a dance."

A uniformed waiter handed her a glass of champagne and she
sipped the bubbly wine as her gaze wandered around the posh room, as
lush as a garden with its innumerable potted plants, cut flower
arrangements, and a wall of glass that provided a spectacular view of
the ocean at dusk. Gina had lived in San Francisco for three years
while her father was stationed at the Presidio and she'd loved it.
She'd graduated from high school in the top ten percent of her class
and had completed part of her freshman year of college before the
debacle that sent her scurrying as far away as she could get, vowing
never to return.

She wandered over to the glass wall and her memories were
poignant and bittersweet as she stood looking out over the quaintly
beautiful city of hills. She'd been standing there for several minutes
when she became aware of an unfamiliar tension that had nothing to do
with her thoughts. It was a tightening at the base of her skull, as
though someone was blowing lightly on her neck, making the short hairs
stand up. She shivered and looked over her shoulder. There were people
all around but none of them were paying the slightest attention to her.

She moved unobtrusively to the long buffet table and
picked up a silver fork and a china plate, but the uneasy feeling
persisted and now she recognized it. It was the feeling of being
watched intently. This time she turned and scanned the room, but the
lighting was dim and everywhere she looked she saw expensively dressed,
beautifully groomed strangers talking and laughing with each other. No
one was staring at her and she mentally chided herself as she turned
back to the table.

It was nerves, it had to be. Not only had the wedding
unstrung her, but she hadn't eaten anything all day but a half-portion
of crab salad at noon. She'd been drinking champagne on an empty
stomach and she needed to eat something. Gina piled her plate with
steaming, succulent gourmet food and carried it to a table where she
spotted Twyla sitting with a similar plate before her. She had just
raised a fork full of potatoes au gratin to her mouth when Gina
approached.

Twyla lowered the filled fork and glared at Gina. "I know what you're thinking so don't say it," she growled.
"I solemnly swear to go back on my diet tomorrow, but tonight I'm not
going to pass up any of this luscious fattening repast."

She popped the potatoes dripping with melted cheese sauce
in her mouth and chewed blissfully.

Gina laughed as she took the seat beside her. "You nut, I
don't care what you eat! They have strawberry cheesecake on the dessert
table, would you like me to bring you a piece?"

"Oh, shut up and stop tempting me," groaned Twyla
good-naturedly as she speared a batter-coated deep-fried oyster.

A hand on Gina's shoulder and a deep familiar voice caused
her to look up. "Mind if I sit with you two?" Stewart asked as he put
his plate on the table and sat down beside her. He sighed. "My feet are
killing me and my arm aches. I've been standing in that receiving line
forever and I think I've shaken hands with everyone in San Francisco."

Gina reached out and gently massaged the gray-coated
shoulder. "Poor baby," she cooed as her fingers caressed him.

He smiled and put his hand over hers. "Just what I need, a
twenty-five-year-old mother."

He drew her hand to his lips and kissed her palm as he
murmured for her ears alone, "I have a mother and a daughter,
sweetheart, but I badly need you for a wife."

Gina felt the flush rising to her face as she squeezed
Stewart's hand and lowered her head. Without ever meaning to he had
jabbed at her most vulnerable spot. She knew she was being unfair to
him by procrastinating at setting a date for their own wedding. It had
been four months since she had accepted his engagement ring and he had
every right to expect her to make the final commitment soon. It
wouldn't be so urgent if they were sleeping together, but they weren't.
She still couldn't allow herself to become that intimately involved
with a man, not even with Stewart.

They finished eating and Stewart asked Gina to dance. She
snuggled against him as they moved gracefully in time to the waltz and
her troubled thoughts returned.

It wasn't that she didn't love Stewart, she did. Oh, not
with the passionate intensity that she had loved Peter Van Housen; that
type of insanity was a onetime experience for the very young and for
that she was deeply grateful. Her feelings for Stewart were quieter,
more mature and, she was sure, more lasting.

He wanted her physically and let her know it. He may be in
his forties but he was a virile, passionate man and he had a right as
her fiancé to expect that they would make love. It was accepted
behavior these days and in spite of her strict upbringing Gina did not
disapprove. Stewart loved her, he wanted to marry her as soon as
possible, and still she held him off. She wondered why he put up with
her nonsense, but even as she wondered she knew. Because that's the
kind of man he was, unselfish, patient and kind. He would never force
her into a relationship she wasn't ready for, but wasn't she taking
unfair advantage of his love?

The evening seemed to drag on interminably and at
intervals she still had that eerie feeling of being watched, although
she could never catch anyone staring at her. The cake had finally been
cut and as soon as the photographer was finished taking pictures and
the bridal couple had changed clothes they would leave and then Gina
could go to her room and hide.

Hide! The word startled her. What on earth did she want to
hide from?

Stewart was with the bridal party being photographed and
Gina, standing alone watching the proceedings, again had the feeling
that someone was watching her.
This is just plain stupid
,
she thought as a shiver passed over her,
maybe I'm coming
unglued
.

She accepted another crystal glass of champagne from one
of the ever vigilant waiters and headed for the balcony. She needed to
get out of there, breathe in some fresh air, and get hold of herself.

The soft breeze from the ocean was chilly on her bare arms
but she hardly noticed as she wandered over to the waist-high parapet
and gazed out into the darkness. Actually, it wasn't really dark after
all. Above her a myriad of stars twinkled and glowed, and beneath her
the bright lights of the city stretched out for miles. San Francisco,
the old and the new, where slums coexisted with affluence, and
sparkling steel and glass high-rise buildings overlooked dingy wooden
turn-of-the-century row houses. There was an old song called "I Left My
Heart in San Francisco," and that's what Gina had done, but her heart
had been broken and bleeding and she was better off without it.

She was so lost in her reverie that she failed to hear the
footsteps of the approaching man. Although the voice that spoke to her
back was little more than a whisper she recognized it immediately.

"Hello, Ginny Lea."

Just three words, but a shock of such magnitude tore
through her that the expensive glass slipped from her fingers and
splintered on the tiles at her feet. She jerked awkwardly as she turned
and wondered, idiotically, if Stewart would be charged for it.

Her gaze started at the firm hard jawline, moved upward to
the full sensual mouth, the nose with the slight bump where it had once
been broken, and finally came to rest in the deep blue eyes of her
ex-husband, Peter Van Housen!

It had been a long, emotional day and Gina was in no
condition to sustain such a shattering encounter. She felt the color
drain from her face and her whole body trembled.

Peter had aged. There were lines around his mouth and at
the corners of his eyes that hadn't been there before, and his hair had
darkened from platinum to wheat. He was still slender, but now it was
almost a gauntness instead of boyish look.

She closed her eyes in an effort to block him out, to
convince herself that she was hallucinating. The darkness unbalanced
her and she swayed and would have fallen except for the arms that
enfolded her against the familiar chest. For a moment she was totally
incapable of resisting and leaned helplessly against the throbbing of
his heartbeat. The musky smell of him assailed her nostrils and the
finely spun wool of his blue suit coat rubbed against her cheek. She
was shivering violently and his arms tightened as he buried his white
face in her black, feathered hair.

A troubled male voice from behind them broke the spell.

"What's going on here?"

It was Stewart!

The sound of Stewart's voice brought Gina back to reality
and she pulled swiftly away from Peter, then swayed as another wave of
dizziness overcame her. This time it was Stewart who held her and he
became thoroughly alarmed as she continued to tremble in his arms.

"Sweetheart," he said, his tone showing his concern.
"What's the matter? Are you sick?"

Before she could answer, Twyla's voice sounded from her
side. "Yes she is, Stewart, she was ill during the wedding ceremony but
wouldn't admit it. I think we'd better get her upstairs to our room."

Stewart brushed a few tendrils of hair back from her pale
face and spoke over her head to Peter, who was standing behind her now.
"Sorry, Peter, can you tell me what happened?"

Gina stiffened. Stewart and Peter must know each other! Oh
no, not that! Peter had just started to say something when she
interrupted hastily. "I—I had a dizzy spell and
Pete—Mr. Van Housen steadied me."

Steadied her! That was a laugh! Never, since the first
time she saw him, had Peter Van Housen had a steadying effect on her.
He'd garbled her thoughts and scrambled her brain until she couldn't
think straight, and now after all this time he was doing it again.

Stewart was talking and she made an effort to concentrate
on what he was saying. "I've been trying to introduce you two all
evening but couldn't find you both at the same time. Now, apparently,
someone's already done the honors. Well, Peter, what do you think of my
girl?"

Gina straightened and turned to Peter, hoping to find a
way to keep him from telling Stewart the truth. She might have been
looking back in time. The expression on his face was the same one she
had seen seven years ago, cold, hard and filled with disgust. There was
a chill in his voice as he said, "You mean this is your
Gina
?"

Thank goodness for Twyla. The earth mother in her had
taken over and she put a comforting arm around Gina's waist as she
said, "You two can stand around all night and talk if you want to, but
I'm going to take this poor child upstairs and put her to bed. She's
apparently coming down with something."

Twyla started to lead Gina away when without a word
Stewart swept her up in his arms and strode with her toward the
elevator, leaving Peter standing there watching, his face shadowed and
inscrutable.

Upstairs Stewart put Gina gently on one of the two
queen-size beds in the room, and then reluctantly yielded to Twyla's
demand that he go back down to his daughter's wedding reception and let
Gina rest. He made Twyla promise that she'd call him if Gina couldn't
sleep, then kissed Gina lingeringly, although she couldn't have
responded if her life depended on it, and left.