The Tawny Gold Man (5 page)

"I told you before I'd stay, Jud. I haven't changed my mind," Anne answered steadily.

"Good." His right hand was held out as he added, "Peace?"

Anne hesitated, then placed her hand in his, felt a tiny shock run up her arm as his hard fingers clasped hers, but managed a calm, "All right, Jud, peace."

The afternoon flew by even faster than the morning had and when Jud's phone buzzed around four thirty Anne was grateful for the opportunity to stretch while Jud answered it. She heard him say, "Who is it, Lorna?" then, "Okay, put it through." Then he held the receiver out to Anne. She gave him a surprised glance, but he didn't say anything, just smiled—mockingly, she thought.

"Hello?" She spoke uncertainly.

"Anne? Is that you, darling?" Andrew's voice came warm over the wire.

"Yes, Andrew. When did you get home?" Somehow Anne infused some warmth of her own into her tone, wondering why it should be so difficult.

"Just now, who answered your phone?"

"Jud's secretary." Anne said without thinking.

"Jud?" Andrew's voice had sharpened. "Jud Cammeron? When did he get back and what's he doing in your office?"

Anne sighed. Of course Andrew wouldn't know about the will and, by the way Jud's face was tightening in anger at the interruption, she couldn't tell Andrew now. Hurriedly she said, "He's not in my office, I'm in his," and looked up to see one white brow arch arrogantly. "I can't talk now, as we're very busy. I'll explain tonight. You are coming for dinner?"

"Yes, but—" he began, but Anne cut him off. "I have to go now, Andrew, see you at the house. Goodbye." Before he could reply, she hung up, sat down at the desk, and picked up the folder she and Jud had been working on.

"So the legal eagle is back," Jud chided smoothly, the very smoothness of his tone irritating. "How nice for you. Now, do you think we could finish this folder before you have to rush home to get ready for him?"

"Jud, really—" Anne began warningly.

"Anne, really," Jud cut in sarcastically but his tone softened. "Okay, I'm sorry for the dig. Tell you what. I promise to be on my best behavior tonight at dinner, if you will."

"What do you mean, if I will?"

"Just what I said. I'll be polite and charming to Andrew, if you'll reciprocate with Lorna."

"Lorna?" Anne repeated, stunned. "Lorna is coming to dinner tonight?"

"Yes."

"But—"

"But nothing," Jud said icily. "I called Margaret this morning and told her. She understood, even if you don't."

Oh, I understand perfectly,
 
Anne thought scathingly, trying to ignore the sudden twist of pain that shot through her chest. What's to understand? A man brings his mistress to town, what else does he do but invite her home to dinner!
 
Oh, God, I feel sick.
 
Why? Before she had to face an answer to that qestion, she rushed into speech.

"Of course I'll be polite to her. Why shouldn't I be?" She hesitated before adding, "She's a very beautiful woman."

"Yes, she is." Hard finality in his tone, cold and flat as his eyes. Unable to maintain that intent stare, Anne turned back to the work on the desk, shocked at the way her fingers were trembling.

* * * *

Sinking into the scented bathwater, Anne sighed wearily. She was tired. It had been a long, emotionally charged day, with Jud not letting up until almost six o'clock. Now, little less than an hour later, Anne wished for nothing more than to lie back in the tub and forget the evening ahead. She couldn't, of course. In fact, she should be downstairs at this moment as Andrew would be arriving any minute.

Sighing again, Anne finished her bath, stepped out of the tub, gave herself a quick, vigorous rub with a large bath towel, and swung around to lift her robe from the hook on the bathroom door. A flashing reflection made her pause, then stop completely to contemplate the nude young woman gazing back at her from the full-length mirror on the door.

Beginning at the top of her head, Anne's eyes critically evaluated the image before her. Her hair, dark and sleek, was cut close to her head on the top and sides, a natural wave giving it a sculptured look. The back was a little longer, turning in softly to caress her neck. The face, to Anne's eyes, though pleasing, held a sad, somewhat wistful look, too thin, too pale, and the eyes seemed enormous, with a vaguely lost expression. Her small frame was slender, too slender. Although Anne admitted it was well formed—the small breasts high and rounded, the waist tiny, the hips and legs smooth and supple, ankles narrow.

Anne's sigh this time was deeper, almost painful. Her head and shoulders sagged and she closed her eyes to shut out the vision before her. The girl in the mirror was pleasing, yes, but hardly competition for the tall, willowy, exquisitely beautiful redhead who would be joining them for dinner.

The thought jerked her upright and eyes wide and incredulous stared back at her. Competition? Why had she thought that? She was in no way in any kind of competition with Lorna or any other woman in connection with Jud, Jud was everything she disliked in a man. Arrogant, ruthless, probably even conceited. Also, probably not above using his blatant good looks to get what he wanted.

A picture of him formed in her mind. She could see him as he'd been at times that afternoon when her answers had not quite satisfied him. He had pushed back his chair impatiently and prowled—prowled, exactly like the lions she had gone to see at the zoo in Philadelphia as a little girl—back and forth, as if trying to wear out the carpet. She had felt breathless and strangely excited by his powerful, masculine, overtly sexy look. Even now, hours later, the memory brought a shallowness to her breathing, a tight ache to the pit of her stomach.

In self-disgust Anne pulled open the bathroom door and hurried along the hall to her bedroom. Quickly, but carefully, she dressed and applied a light makeup, all the while telling herself that Jud Cammeron meant nothing to her. He was a force to be reckoned with, but that was all.

Really?
 
chided a small, amused voice at the very edge of her consciousness.
 
Then why does the mere thought of going down those stairs and entering the living room set your heart thumping into your throat?
 
Swallowing painfully, Anne hesitated, her hand pausing in the act of opening her door.
Because,
 
she told that tiny voice,
 
because I'm afraid of him. He is a dangerous adversary who holds my brothers 'futures in the palms of his strong, capable hands. Without warning, he could close those hands into a tight fist and crush all their hopes and plans.

And possibly your spirit as well? the small unrepentant voice asked slyly.

As if fleeing a demon, Anne tore out of the room and down the stairs, forcing herself to slow down as she reached the entrance to the living room.

Andrew was there, and yet the first person her eyes went to was Jud. Good Lord, he was devastating in close-fitting brown corduroys and a tan linen shirt. The clothes, combined with his hair and skin coloring, lent an all-over tawny appearance.
 
A tawny gold man,
 
Anne thought crazily, fighting to control the jumbled sensations eating away at her poise.

"There you are, darling." Andrew's voice, as he came across the room to her, helped restore some of her equilibrium. "I was beginning to think you must have fallen asleep." His tone was light, teasing and as he bent to kiss her he added softly, "I've missed you. Was it very bad? And what's the story with Jud? Your mother seems almost afraid of him."

Anne managed a strained smile and whispered, "I'll explain later, when we're alone. I missed you too."

Thankful for the support of Andrew's hand at her waist, Anne moved into the room, a shaft of dismay sliding through her as her eyes encountered Jud's secretary. The red hair that had been drawn back neatly into a twist at the back of her head during the day had been set free to become a loose, glowing flame around her beautiful face. The tall, sleek body was encased in a hot-pink sheath that gave proof to all of her perfect figure.

With the urge to turn and run crawling up her spine, Anne was amazed at the cool composure of her voice as she acknowledged Jud's formal introduction.

"In my haste to get started this morning I'm afraid I forgot to introduce you two," Jud lied smoothly. Then his voice seemed, to Anne's ears, to change to a warm caress as he drew Lorna toward her. "Lorna, I'd like you to meet my"— he paused—"stepsister, Anne Moore, Anne, my secretary, Lorna Havers."

Cool fingers touched Anne's equally cool ones as Lorna murmured throatily, "I'm pleased to meet you, at last, Miss Moore."

Anne barely had time to reply, "Call me Anne, please, Lorna," when Jud informed, "I have already introduced Lorna to Andrew and your mother, Anne." His voice went hard before he added, "The twins haven't put in an appearance as yet."

He couldn't have said anything more calculated to inject steel into her spine if he had tried. Anne opened her mouth to fly to her brothers' defense, when they strolled into the room, completely unaware of the tension within. As a single unit they stopped dead in their tracks, eyes widening as they caught sight of Lorna.

A small smile of amusement tugging at her mouth, Anne turned to Andrew, and the smile and amusement vanished. Andrew's eyes reflected the admiration evident in Troy's and Todd's, and along with it was an expression Anne could only interpret as calculating speculation. Turning away quickly, Anne felt a small flicker of alarm, for Jud stood watching the tableau, a cool, mocking gleam in his amber eyes, the familiar sardonic twist on his mouth. And what caused Anne's alarm was the fact that Jud was observing Andrew closely.

With relief Anne heard Mrs. Davis announce dinner. Her relief was short-lived for after they were all seated, all the conversation except for the occasional remark tossed to her mother and herself centered on Lorna. And through it all Jud sat, the same amused expression on his face, watching— watching.

Watching for what?
 
Anne asked herself irritably, pushing the food around on her plate. Watching for those three fools to make complete asses of themselves over his secretary-mistress? Unable to decipher the expression Jud wore, Anne had to admit she didn't know what he was watching for, and she hastened to assure herself that she didn't really care.

What an unbelievably long night, Anne thought tiredly some four hours later, as she slid between her sheets. Long and not too good for her ego. As dinner had begun, so had the evening progressed—all the men's attention on Lorna. Her mother had retreated shortly after dinner, leaving Anne to her own devices, of which she had few. And to top it off she had not had that private talk with Andrew. She had so longed for the chance to tell him all that had happened, ask his advice. Now she was almost glad the chance had not come her way. The wish to confide in him had curiously vanished.

All evening—as Jud had watched all of them—Anne had observed Andrew in growing disbelief. Quiet, calm, clearheaded Andrew was as bowled over by Lorna as the immature, lighthearted Troy and Todd. What had happened to the almost pompous seriousness of the man she was engaged to?

A few years younger than Jud, Anne had known Andrew most of her life. Their mothers had been friends for years, although he hadn't seemed aware of Anne at all until a few years ago.

Twisting Andrew's ring around her finger, Anne compared the smiling, eager, handsome man who had danced attendance on Lorna all evening with the coolly reserved, sharp-minded Andrew she had become engaged to. She had never heard him laugh so much, had never seen him so animated. Strangely the most surprising thing he'd done all evening was rake his fingers through his hair, ruffling its usual dark smoothness. Anne had never seen him with a hair out of place. Even she would not have dared to bring disorder to that neatness, and oddly, she had never had the urge to do so.

She had always felt safe and secure with Andrew. Now that security was shaken. Disturbed and confused by the events of the last few days, Anne felt alone and vulnerable, and more than a little afraid.

Chapter 5

Jud kept Anne so busy during the following weeks, she barely noticed the last dying gasp of winter or the slow, inexorable advance of spring. He set a grueling pace for himself and, in determination, she strove to keep up with him. She fell into bed exhausted every night and grew even more alive in her life. Jud seemed to charge everything and everyone around him with electricity, and his energy seemed endless. Unfortunately his temper had a much shorter span and Anne had felt or witnessed the sharp edge of his tongue too often for comfort. No one, from top management to the night watchman, escaped his notice, be it to administer a rebuke or praise. What amazed Anne was that, by April, when Todd and Troy came home for the spring break, the majority of the employees looked on Jud as a kind of god.

Anne herself had mixed feelings about him. Honesty made her admit he had a brilliant business mind. He missed nothing, however small and seemingly unimportant, and had succeeded, more than once, hi making Anne feel incompetent. Grudgingly she admitted to herself he did not do it on purpose. She ached with the need to find fault with his handling of the company, and with growing frustration realized that need would not be assuaged.

She had moved into her own office at the end of the first week, then wondered why Jud had even bothered to have it made ready for her, as the connecting door between the two rooms was always left open and his barked "Anne come in here" had her running back and forth as if she were a yo-yo at the end of a string he had tied around his finger.

By the end of her second week, to her surprise, Lorna returned to his New York office, having trained a replacement in a few days' time. Jud's new secretary—a Mrs. Donna Kramer—was a highly qualified, thirty-eight-year-old widow, with three teenage sons. An attractive, friendly woman, Anne liked her at first meeting and despite their age difference a warm friendship was developing. More surprising still was the fact that Jud hardly seemed to notice Lorna's absence, even though he had been out of the office until after lunch on the day her plane left.

To Anne Jud was an enigma, never quite behaving as she would expect. She had not expected him to spend much tune at home, so, of course, he was there most evenings. Even though he did close himself in the library, he was home. She had expected him to treat her mother with cool reserve, so, contrarily, he was all warm consideration toward her. The reserve he saved for Anne, who had expected mockery and sarcasm.

And as if she didn't have enough on her mind keeping up with Jud, Andrew baffled Anne. He seemed to be changing somehow, and Anne found herself wondering if she really knew him as well as she had thought she did.

On the Saturday night after Jud's return, he took her out for dinner and his choice of restaurant was in itself unusual. The inn, on the outskirts of Philadelphia, though expensive, was quiet and secluded. As a rule he chose a restaurant closer to home and always a place where he could see, and would be seen by his friends and colleagues. From the beginning of their relationship Anne had been aware of the fact that Andrew was very ambitious. He intended to move up in the legal profession, not only in their own small community some fifteen miles outside of Philadelphia, but in Philadelphia itself. He had never confided to Anne how he planned to do this, but that his plans were rigidly laid out in his own mind had always been evident.

Anne had accepted Andrew's first invitation to go out with him the previous spring, less than a year ago. She had accepted his proposal and ring three months ago. Yet, in all that time, he had never found it necessary to share a quiet intimate dinner with her. When he ushered her into the subdued, underplayed elegance of the old inn, the questions, and a vague uneasiness, began to stir in Anne.

Their dinner was expertly prepared and delicious and as they sipped their after-dinner coffee and liqueur, Anne studied Andrew through the shield of her lashes. His height was the only thing average about him. His smoothly brushed dark hair looked almost too perfect to be real, as did the matinee idol handsomeness of the face beneath it. His body was slender and compact, kept in peak condition by vigorous workouts at the local racquet club. His manners were impeccable and his attitude toward her had always been one of polite consideration. In essence Andrew was a cold, analytical mind in a well-dressed, attractive body.

Their relationship, so far, had been comfortable and emotionless, a fact that had gone a long way in her decision to accept his proposal. His casual lovemaking had always been just that—casual and undemanding. Anne felt safe with him because, for reasons she did not care to examine too closely, she herself shied away from any deep emotional involvement. But tonight there was a subtle difference in Andrew, a difference that made Anne uncomfortable.

"Where are you, darling?"

Andrew's quiet voice nudged Anne out of her reverie. Her eyes refocused on his somber face and she laughed shakily.

"I'm sorry, Andrew."

"What were you thinking about?" he probed. "Are you having problems in the office?"

Anne knew by the tone of his voice that he was feeling excluded. Andrew was still not fully in the picture as to her stepfather's will and its aftereffects. She had been so busy all week, thanks to Jud, not only during the day, but in the evenings as well. He had asked, no ordered, if politely, her into the library the last two nights to explain some business papers he'd found in his father's desk. Therefore the opportunity to talk to Andrew had not materialized.

Now, seeing Andrew's face grow grim and stubborn, Anne plunged into an explanation.

"You mean you are literally under his thumb?" he asked in astonishment when she'd finished.

"To a degree, yes," Anne answered softly. "Needless to say Troy and Todd resent him and his dictates like hell. But there is very little any one of us can do about it. He's a veritable slave driver in the office, and yet no one there seems to resent him too much. Possibly because he drives himself harder than anyone else."

"But this is untenable for you, Anne. You cannot possibly go on working day and night for this man simply because his father saw fit to insult you with ten percent of the stock. I find it hard to believe that he, or the twins for that matter, has not offered to buy the stock from you."

He, this man—Anne had not missed Andrew's refusal to use Jud's name. Sighing softly, she said wearily, "As a matter of fact they offered to buy the stock. All three of them. I do not want to sell it."

His eyes narrowed, but before he could voice his objection, Anne held out her hand placatingly, pleading, "Andrew, let me explain, please."

He looked on the verge of refusing but then nodded angrily.

"All right, but I'm damned if I can see a reasonable explanation for you putting up with his arrogance."

"In the first place," Anne admonished, "I do not feel insulted by Judson's bequest. True, as practically everyone has been eager to point out, he virtually left me in the middle, between his sons. But equally true, as Jud was only too happy to point out, Judson was fairly certain I would not sell or give my share to any of them."

"But why, for heaven's sake?" Andrew's growing impatience was beginning to show in the tone of his voice, the brightness of his usually cool, brown eyes.

"Simply because, in all conscience, I can't. Oh, Andrew, surely you of all people understand. If I sell, or give, the stock to Troy and Todd, they'll force Jud out and in their inexperience ruin the company. And if I sell"—no hint at the word
 
give
 
here—"to Jud, he'll take over completely. At least this way he is under some control."

"Precious damn little, I'd say, with a man like him," Andrew snapped. Then his legal mind reasserted itself, and he added, "But I do see your position. Not an enviable one either. But, Anne darling, how long is this tug-of-war likely to go on?"

"I don't know," Anne answered tiredly. "Right now the twins are in silent rebellion, but I'm hoping they pull themselves together and get down to the business of learning the business. The moment I feel they can handle the company, and Jud, I'll gladly hand over the stock. I don't really want it, as I feel I have no right to it in the first place."

"What! But that's ridiculous," Andrew exclaimed. "You were like a daughter to Mr. Cammeron. I would have thought he'd leave you much more. And when the time comes there will be no talk of giving anything to anyone. You have as much right to your legacy as he has, if not more. He's the deserter, not you."

Anne glanced up sharply, the unease she'd felt earlier doubling in proportion. What had gotten into Andrew? Never before had he assumed that proprietorial attitude toward her. But even more disquieting was the nasty edge to his tone whenever he spoke of Jud. As if he actually hated while at the same time envied him. But why? Anne had no answer to that, and so felt totally lost and confused. Besides which, she was just too tired to go into it with him. Reaching across the table, she touched his hand lightly

"Andrew, please, I'm really very tired. Could we leave this discussion for another time?"

For a moment Anne thought he would argue, but then he shrugged and murmured, "As you wish."

They left shortly after that and back in the car Anne rested her head against the seat, eyes closed. It had been a very long day. Unable to sleep past seven, Anne had finally pushed the covers back and dragged her tired body out of bed. She was not sleeping well, and when she did sleep, her rest was broken by dreams. Wild, distorted dreams that made no sense and left her shaken and frightened. Most upsetting of all was the recurrence of the drowning dream she'd had the first night Jud was home. It was always the same, never varying, and that alone shook her. She had promised herself she'd sleep late that morning and the fact that she was unable to do so sent her to the breakfast table irritable and snappy.

Jud had been sitting at the table, his breakfast finished, drinking his coffee while his eyes scanned the morning paper. His "good morning" had been coolly polite and when Anne barely mumbled a response, one bleached brow went up mockingly.

"Fall out on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Anne?" His silky tone had irritated her even more. "Or is the boss running you ragged?"

"The boss," she emphasized scathingly, "hasn't seen the day he could run me ragged. I will be fine as soon as I've had some coffee."

Brave words. Too brave in fact, for he took her up on it at once.

"In that case I'm sure you'll be happy to join me for an hour or two in the library. I have a few questions on some legal papers of the old man's that I found in the desk. Perhaps you could supply some answers."

An hour or two, a few questions, the man was an expert at the understatement. He had grilled her endlessly, chiding softly "why not?" whenever she had to tell him she had no answer. He had had Mrs. Davis bring a lunch tray in to them and had given her barely enough time to finish her salad before firing questions at her again. By three thirty Anne was on the verge of tears, inwardly appalled at how little she really knew of her stepfather's business affairs, when she'd thought she'd had a very good grasp of it all. Lord, if Jud could shatter her this soon, what in the world would he have done to the twins?

He had been studying a paper, head bent, when he calmly asked yet another question she had no answer for and in frustration she had almost screamed at him "I don't know." She'd paused, swallowing hard to force back a sob, then added chokingly, "I—I thought I had his complete confidence, but it's more than obvious I was wrong."

Jud's head had snapped up at her outburst and his eyes, those damned cat eyes, watched the play of emotions cross her face with cool intent. It was that watchfulness that drove her to turn away abruptly and head for the door. More unnerved than she'd ever been before, she'd whispered, "I—I'll understand if you want to replace me in the office, get another assistant."

She had reached the door, hand groping for the knob, when he grasped her by the shoulders, holding her still, her back to him.

"Throwing in the towel already, Anne?" he taunted softly. "I really thought you had more guts than to fall apart at the first obstacle. If you go, who is going to run interference for Todd and Troy?"

She had listened to his words in disbelief and when he'd finished, she'd gasped, "You mean you want me to stay?"

He shook her gently, drawling, "My sweet Anne. Do you have any idea how long it would take me to train someone to replace you? I simply do not have the time. Besides, I have known all along that you couldn't possibly know all of the old man's business. I was merely trying to ascertain exactly what facts you were cognizant of."

He'd hesitated, turned her halfway around to him, then stopped, dropped his hands, and stepped back, away from her. "You're tired," he snapped impatiently. "Take off and get some rest. You'll need it, for we still have one hell of a lot of work before us."

He'd walked away from her, the very set of his shoulders a dismissal. Anne had been only too happy to escape, for the touch of his hands on her arms had caused a feeling of extreme weakness in her legs, a tight breathlessness in her chest.