Текст книги "Native Affairs"
Автор книги: Doreen Malek Owens
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His relief was only partial. “I just wanted you to see my special place, that’s all. I know that it’s secluded, but I honestly wasn’t thinking about getting you alone or anything.”
His insistence was almost ingenuous, and she smiled. “Forget it, Drew. Now can we get this show on the road before the ants eat my ankles?”
He nodded, unsmiling, and they packed up to go.
Fox was silent on the way back to the truck, and Cindy wondered what he was thinking. There were no cute remarks about the wildlife underfoot or killer fish. Cindy missed the teasing banter, but his demeanor was serious and it didn’t look like it was going to change. When he handed her into the truck she smiled at him, and he didn’t smile back.
The drive home seemed to pass in a blur of sunstruck palms and roadside stands. By the time they reached Paula’s apartment Cindy was convinced he was going to tell her that they shouldn’t see each other again. And why not? Other women didn’t refuse him; they didn’t make him work so hard. Cindy had heard enough from Paula to understand that, but she also knew that she couldn’t change her personality to suit his expectations. She was sitting in wordless misery, her hands folded in her lap like a grade schooler about to get a scolding, when Fox pulled into a parking place and shut off the motor.
“I’ll take you up,” he said briefly, and walked at her side up the two sets of stairs, a trip that took an eternity. When they came to a halt outside Paula’s door, Cindy took a deep breath and looked into his eyes.
“Thank you for my lovely day, Drew,” she said, making a brave attempt to finish everything gracefully.
He stared at her for a second, and then, with a sound like a broken sigh, he cupped her face in his hands.
“What a well brought up young lady you are,” he said quietly, rubbing his thumbs gently over her lower lip. “You look like you’re about to cry, and yet you’re able to say the right thing. Come on, princess, the last part of it wasn’t so lovely.”
“It was too lovely, Drew. That was the problem.”
He closed his eyes, and it was several seconds before he replied. “Cindy, your honesty is going to get both of us into trouble,” he said huskily, closing her lips with his fingers. “Don’t you know women aren’t supposed to make admissions like that?”
“Why not, if it’s the truth.” She turned her head, avoiding his touch. “I didn’t want you to think that what happened was your fault.”
He grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at him. “You’re not mad at me, then?” he asked, searching her face.
“No, of course not. Did you think I was?”
He dropped his eyes. “I wasn’t sure. You’re always so polite. I thought maybe you were just toughing it out until you got home.” He shrugged. “Even if you did think the worst of me I figured you’d never tell me.”
“But what about my famous honesty?” she asked, and he shook his head.
“It would take a back seat to sparing my feelings, though, wouldn’t it?” he answered, and she permitted herself a slight nod.
“Thought so.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Now, with that behind us, can we start over?”
“By all means.”
He grinned, his first real smile since she woke him up at the beach. “Okay. I have to go down to the DA’s office to give a deposition, but it should only take an hour or so. Why don’t you change clothes and I’ll pick you up later. We can go someplace nice for dinner.”
“Drew, I can’t. I promised Paula I would stay here tonight and monitor the phone.”
He looked annoyed. “Doesn’t she have an answering machine?”
Cindy shook her head. “That’s not the point. She’s an assistant manager of the complex, and she’s paid to have a real person on duty to respond to real emergencies.”
“Then why isn’t she doing it?”
“She has to work. Come on, Drew, I’m doing her a favor. You can understand that.”
His expression grudging, he said, “I guess so.” He smiled dryly. “You can see that I don’t like anything to interfere with my plans.” He brightened. “I know. I’ll get some take-out stuff and bring it back here for us.”
Cindy didn’t reply.
He read her silence correctly. “No good, huh?” He eyed her intently. “Afraid to be alone with me?”
“No, Drew, that’s not it. It’s Paula’s place and I don’t think it would be right for me to have company here when she’s not home.”
Fox rolled his eyes. “You take this Miss Manners thing too seriously, do you know that?”
She was about to protest when he raised his hand, forestalling her. “All right, all right. Far be it for me to question your judgment on etiquette, though I think Paula is the last person on earth who would care.”
“I’d care,” Cindy said, and he relented.
“I’ll call you later, okay?” he said softly, stroking her hair.
“Okay,” she said, and then touched his arm. He studied her, waiting for the question he could sense was coming.
“Drew, why do you have to give a deposition on a Saturday night? Is it an emergency or something?”
He looked as though he regretted bringing it up. “Sort of,” he hedged.
“What does that mean?”
He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. It was a gesture of resignation, and she knew that he was about to tell her.
“You know that guy who gave me this?” he said, pointing to his taped ribs.
She nodded mutely.
“Well, I tracked him down in a bar, and when I tried to pick him up he created kind of a ruckus. He came at me with a broken beer bottle, but somebody got in the way and took the cut instead. I have to give my version of what happened and swear to it.”
Cindy licked her lips, which were suddenly dry. “Drew, that could have been you.”
“It wasn’t,” he said firmly. “It wasn’t me, and I don’t want you to think about it anymore.”
“I’m not sure I’ll be able to follow those orders,” she replied, looking away from him.
The phone rang inside the apartment, and Cindy quickly unlocked the door. “I have to get that,” she said, glancing back at Fox.
He leaned forward and kissed her briefly on the forehead. “Go ahead,” he answered. “I’ll call you later,” he repeated.
She left the door ajar, and she heard him whistling as he walked away.
* * * *
He didn’t call. All that evening, every time the phone rang, Cindy was sure it was Fox. But she heard from three tenants, Paula’s aunt, and her own mother, everyone but the person she most wanted to be on the other end of the line. As it got later, she began to worry. What could have happened to him? She knew that he would have kept his word if it were possible, and the only conclusion she could come to was that something was wrong.
Paula returned from the hospital around eleven-thirty, so exhausted from her double shift that she didn’t pause for conversation but just stumbled into bed. Cindy fretted for another hour and a half, and then went to bed, certain that she would not be able to sleep. She had pulled the phone with its long extension cord into her room, and she drifted in and out of a fitful doze, waiting for it to ring.
When it finally did, she jumped up so suddenly that she knocked over the lamp on her bedside table reaching for the receiver. She winced as it crashed into the wall, and then plunged to the floor, making enough noise to wake Paula, and possibly several of her deceased relatives.
After scrabbling for the receiver in the dark, Cindy lifted it to her mouth and said, “Drew?”
‘‘Yeah, it’s me.” He sounded very tired.
“Drew, what happened? Where are you? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I’m at the county jail.”
Her heart missed a beat. “You haven’t been arrested?”
“No, no. Although it would hardly surprise anyone if I had been.” He paused, and she heard a deep inhalation. He was smoking.
“I got held up after I gave the deposition,” he explained. “The assistant DA who took it brought me over here to look at a lineup. A jumper I caught a few years ago got out on parole and killed a woman. He was using an assumed name, and I had to identify him as the person I returned to custody, and the victim’s daughter had to identify him as the guy she saw leaving her mother’s house.” He didn’t say the experience had been harrowing, but she could hear it in his drained, toneless delivery.
“Killed,” Cindy repeated. “He killed a woman?”
“That’s what the prosecutor thinks,” Fox replied. “And from what I know of the guy I certainly wouldn’t put it past him.”
There was a brief knock, and then Cindy’s door opened. Paula entered the room, wearing two ounces of lace lingerie and a pained expression.
“What broke?” she demanded. “I heard a noise.”
“Just a second,” Cindy said into the phone, and then covered the mouthpiece.
“The lamp fell,” Cindy replied to Paula, “but it didn’t break. I’m sorry. I knocked it over in the dark.”
Paula, her shadowy form outlined by the hall light behind her, folded her arms. “Who’s that on the phone? As if I didn’t know.”
“It’s Drew,” Cindy answered patiently.
“Somebody ought to buy that guy a watch,” Paula stated irritably and slammed Cindy’s door behind her.
“I guess Paula heard the phone,” Fox said when she got back on the line.
“Yes,” Cindy said, not going into the rest of it.
“Look, I’m sorry I woke both of you up. I just got involved and the time sped by. It wasn’t until later that I realized you might be worried when you didn’t hear from me.”
“I was worried. I couldn’t sleep.”
“It was only a phone call, Cindy. It wasn’t like we had a date firmed up and I missed it.”
Cindy was silent. Was he chastising her, asserting his independence?
“You still there?” he asked, his tone lighter.
“I’m still here.”
“All right,” he said. “I’m a jerk. I’m not used to anybody worrying about me, that’s all. I really was tied up with the police until a few minutes ago. I would have waited until morning to get in touch but I’ll be gone by then.”
“Gone?” she repeated faintly, her spirits sinking further.
“Yeah, I have to drive up to Alabama for an extradition hearing. The state police just located the guy and it’s set for first thing Monday morning. I can’t get a flight in time so I have to take my car. The town is a long distance from the nearest airport and it’s actually faster to drive.”
“Drew, you can’t drive. You’ve had no sleep for two nights running,” she said, distracted by visions of him gliding onto off ramps and into telephone poles.
“Cindy, I have to get there. Unless this creep is extradited to Georgia he’ll get away with defrauding a bunch of old people in his nursing homes of all their retirement funds. He fled jurisdiction when the feds caught on to him, and I want to make sure he is punished for it.”
Cindy took a breath. “Drew, is your life always like this?” she asked him.
“Pretty much,” he answered. “I’m not exactly what you’d call reliable.” He paused. “But I guess you’ve gathered that.”
“When will you be back?”
“I don’t know. It could be over fast, with just the hearing, or it could take several days.”
She didn’t know how to handle it. How could she press him for information he didn’t have?
“Cindy,” he said, “you’ll hear from me. I don’t know when, but you will.”
“Okay, Drew.” What else could she say?
“Cindy?”
“Hmm?”
“It’s nice that you care what happens to me. I like that.” A smile came into his voice. “Look for me...”
“Yes, I know. When the sun goes down.”
“That’s my girl.”
“Drew, be careful. Take care of yourself.”
“I will. Goodbye, princess.”
“Goodbye.”
Cindy hung up, falling back on the pillows. She glanced at the lamp which lay in a heap, its shade askew, on the rug. Automatically, she got out of bed and righted it, standing it back on the table.
Could she take this? Could she take Fox’s lifestyle, the pattern of leaving at a moment’s notice with no set time of return? He was going off into danger every time he left, and no amount of rationalizing could dismiss that fact.
Cindy shook her head and climbed back into bed. It appeared that she was going to find out if she could live with his precarious adventures.
Because whether she liked it or not, she was falling in love with Andrew Fox.
Chapter 6
Five days later Cindy was seated on the floor of Paula’s living room with a stack of index cards. She was methodically sorting the cards and then clipping them to the typed pages they outlined. A casual observer witnessing her apparent concentration would not have guessed her inner turmoil.
Paula entered the room and displayed her hand like a model on television selling dishwashing lotion. “How do you like it?” she asked. “Mango frappe.”
Cindy glanced at the iridescent orange nail polish and nodded. “It’s very... shiny.”
“Not to mention seductive, long wearing, and non chip,” Paula added dryly, quoting from the sales copy.
She watched Cindy bite the cap of her pen, holding it between her teeth and nibbling at it like a ferret.
“Is that what you do instead of smoking?” she asked.
Cindy looked at her uncomprehendingly. “What?”
“Never mind. I take it you haven’t heard from him.”
Cindy shook her head.
“You have nothing to add?” Paula probed.
Cindy shrugged. “What is there to say? I have no claim on him; he doesn’t have to report to me daily as if I were his mother. He said I would hear from him, and I will. Eventually.”
“How very mature,” Paula said. “And how understanding. Everyone knows there are no phones in Georgia. Or post offices or Western Union operators.”
Cindy threw her a dirty look.
“I know, I know,” Paula said, holding up her hand. “But if you ask me, he’s using this trip to put emotional distance between you.”
“Nobody asked you,” Cindy pointed out.
“Has that ever stopped me from offering an opinion before?” Paula asked rhetorically.
Cindy sighed and uncoiled her legs, stretching them. “Paula, look at it logically. As of this moment, I have been out with him twice, only once on an actual date. Why should he feel compelled to keep me posted on his every move? I believe that he’ll call me when he gets back, and that’s sufficient.”
Paula nodded patiently. “All that sounds wonderful, but I happen to know that you haven’t eaten a square meal since he left. You may be convincing yourself with your splendid reasoning but I’m not buying it.”
“Then don’t,” Cindy said shortly, getting up. “Go back into your bedroom and frappe your toenails.”
“Oh, oh,” Paula said. “Getting a little miffed, are we?”
Cindy put her hands on her hips and stared her down. “I’m getting a little miffed, yes. Your attitude toward Fox changes with the light. One minute you’re wishing me luck and urging me onward, and the next you’re making wisecracks about his disappearing act. What’s going on, Paula? Are you trying to drive me crazy?”
Paula considered that. “Okay, you’re right. I am vacillating about this whole thing. Sometimes when I see how happy you are with him, I want it to work out and I encourage you. Then, at other times, I remember what he used to be like…” She left the sentence unfinished for Cindy to draw her own conclusions.
“People can change,” Cindy said. “They grow up and different things become important to them.”
“Possibly,” Paula said, her tone unconvinced.
“Definitely,” Cindy confirmed. “Now go back to your manicure and let me get this work done.” She sat back down and started shuffling papers.
“I guess I know when I’m not wanted.” Paula sniffed and marched out of the room.
Cindy looked up after she’d gone, and her expression was thoughtful.
* * * *
The next afternoon Cindy was sitting at a table in the back of the reference room when a long shadow fell across the page she was reading. She glanced up and Fox was towering over her, his expression wary, as if he were unsure of the reception he was going to get.
“Hi,” he said. “I’m back.”
Cindy smiled. “Hello, Drew. I’m glad to see you.”
“Yeah?” he said, tilting his head to one side and looking at her askance.
“Of course. How did the trip go?”
He pulled out a chair and turned it around, seat forward. Lifting one leg over the back of it, he dropped into it.
“Fine,” he replied, folding his arms across the top of the ladderback. “We put that guy away where he’ll never cheat anybody again.”
“That’s good,” she said, closing her book carefully. She couldn’t help comparing this return with his previous one, when he’d opened his arms and she had run into them. But that was before the lake, before they both realized how much was at stake.
He glanced around at the floor-to-ceiling stacks nervously, as if viewing a lineup of his enemies. “Looks like you’ve got a few books here,” he said, raising his eyebrows. Cindy thought he looked out of place in this arena of higher learning—his tough, lean exterior bespeaking knowledge of a very different kind.
“A few,” she replied, making a note in the margin of her pad and putting her pen away. “I like to work here, where I have all the information I need at my fingertips.”
“How’s the paper coming?” he asked.
“Fine. Right on schedule.”
He fell silent and studied her face, while she looked back at him. He was wearing a gray T-shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing his muscular arms. His jeans and moccasins might have passed for student wear, but despite his clothing he looked about as much like a student as she looked like a fan dancer. He wore his aura of danger like an ornament, and like an ornament, it drew attention. Out of the corner of her eye Cindy saw a couple of girls at the next table staring at him and conversing in hushed whispers. She could guess the subject of their conversation without trying very hard.
“I wasn’t going to come here,” he said suddenly.
“What do you mean?”
“When I called the apartment Paula told me you were here, but I was going to wait until you got home.” He shifted restlessly in his chair. “These places make me jumpy.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Schools, churches, libraries. I was always getting thrown out of them.”
The reference librarian chose that moment to advance on them and glare at Fox.
“You’ll have to keep your voices down or go outside,” she said sternly. “People are trying to work here.”
“See what I mean?” Fox asked Cindy as the woman walked away. “They see me and freak. You’d think I was going to set fire to the joint.” He stood, shoving his chair back into place with a loud scraping noise and staring defiantly at the librarian when she looked up.
“Let’s get out of here,” he concluded, lifting her back pack and shouldering it.
Cindy gathered the rest of her things and followed him down the narrow aisle, then out through the double doors to the hall. Once out of the room Fox expelled a breath, as if he’d been under some tension that had just been released.
“The last time I was in a library was ten years ago,” he said, glancing at her. “I was looking up some deeds for my uncle.” He smiled and tugged on a strand of her hair. “What were you doing ten years ago?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Studying geometry, probably. Or algebra. Math was never my strong point. What were you doing besides looking up deeds?”
He thought about it for a second. “Raising hell, I guess. Making a fool of myself. That was my usual occupation in those days.” He pushed open the outer door and they stepped into a flood of sunshine. “Have you got Paula’s car?”
Cindy nodded. “It’s in the row next to the concrete abutment,” she said, pointing.
“I have to go back to my place and check the mail. I’m expecting some legal papers that can’t wait.” He eyed her speculatively. “Do you want to come along?”
“To your house?”
“Yes.”
Cindy hesitated.
“You’ll be safe with me,” he said quietly.
“I know that,” she replied, making her decision. “Should I leave Paula’s car here?”
Fox shook his head. “Better follow me. The car will be okay in the lot at my building.”
Cindy did as he said, trailing him out of the university lot and following his sports car along the boulevard lined with palm trees that ran parallel to the school. He drove for about two miles and then pulled into a condo complex with its buildings scattered along the edge of the water. He parked behind a sparkling white highrise, and Cindy pulled into the space next to his. When he got out of his car to meet her he said, “I’m on the fourth floor.”
Cindy walked at his side, observing the scenery, which was gorgeous. Rich plantings abounded, with many palms and flowering shrubs contributing a riot of color.
“Did you think I would call you while I was gone?” Fox asked suddenly, and Cindy looked at him. He was watching her with that alert expression she had already come to know. It meant that the casual question carried more import than the listener could guess from his offhand tone. Was this a test?
“I know you were busy,” she said carefully. He looked away and dropped the subject. Cindy couldn’t tell anything from his demeanor. She was getting mixed signals from him; on the one hand, he seemed to want her attention very much, but on the other, he acted as if any sign of possessiveness would cause him to bolt. He was a complex man and she knew that he would always defy easy categorizations.
Fox pushed open the outer door for her, and they entered the lobby. It was lush, with pearl gray carpeting interspersed with walkways of rich terrazzo tile. Vivid contemporary paintings were mounted on a background of beige grass cloth walls, and hanging baskets of ferns were everywhere.
“Drew, this place is something else,” Cindy said, staring unabashedly.
He flashed her a delighted grin. “Yeah, I know. Everybody who lives here is blue chip, except for me. You should have seen the looks on the faces of the other happy home owners when I moved in with my three duffel bags of T-shirts and jeans.”
Cindy got a sample of what he meant as a middle aged couple passed by on their way out. They were extremely well dressed, and the woman wore so much gold jewelry that it was amazing she was able to move at all. They both nodded stiffly at Fox, their expressions glacial.
“My next door neighbors,” Fox said out of the corner of his mouth to Cindy. He waited until they were out of earshot and added, chuckling, “They haven’t decided whether I’m a hit man or a white slaver.”
Smiling, unable to resist his relishing their confusion, Cindy said, “Why don’t you just tell them what you do?”
“And ruin all the fun? No way,” Fox replied, pressing the button for the elevator. “Besides, they would hardly regard my real line of work as any better than their imaginings. The fact that they inherited all their money and don’t work at all doesn’t prevent them from looking down on those who do.”
“Are you going to tell me how you wound up in this place?” Cindy asked archly, as the elevator arrived and they got into it.
“Dying of curiosity, aren’t you?” Fox asked, shooting her a sidelong glance.
“Yes,” she admitted, and he laughed, throwing his head back in a boyish gesture that made her want to kiss him.
“I’ll tell you,” he replied, pointing to his door as they got off the elevator. “About nine months ago I got a call from an oil company representative. The suite in this building was being used by one of their vice presidents, who had just absconded with one-and-a-half million of the company’s funds. They were understandably anxious to locate him, and they offered me a percentage of that figure if I could bring him back.”
He shrugged as he unlocked the door. “It wasn’t my usual thing, more a missing persons case than anything else. The guy hadn’t jumped bail; he’d just left. But I was intrigued and went after him. I finally found him a few months later in Rio, with a phony name, a phony passport, and a Brazilian mistress. When I turned him in the company offered me this place in lieu of the fee. The crook wasn’t going to be using it anymore, and it was worth about what they owed me, give or take a few grand. At first I thought I’d sell it, but I decided to stay when—”
“When you saw the effect your presence was having on the uptight tenants,” Cindy finished for him, and he smiled at her.
“Smart girl,” he said, and bowed her inside.
The apartment ran from front to back, with the entry hall leading straight ahead into the living room, and the kitchen and dining area on the left. To the right, off the living room, were the two bedrooms. The kitchen was galley-style, gleaming with space-age appliances, and had a counter that bordered the dining room directly next to it. The living room featured polished hardwood floors and a brick fireplace with an oak mantel. Through the sheer drapes Cindy could see a balcony that ran along one end of the suite, with access from both the living room and the master bedroom.
Fox was standing next to her, waiting for her reaction.
“What can I say, Drew? It’s spectacular.”
“Notice anything unusual?” he asked, teasing.
“You mean the unusual lack of furniture?” she answered, and he nodded.
Aside from a metal card table in the dining area and a mattress visible through the door of the master bedroom, there wasn’t a stick of furniture in the whole place.
“Looks like a bus stop, doesn’t it?” he said cheerfully, waving her toward the single folding chair.
Cindy sat in it and looked around. “Why don’t you have any furniture?”
He went to the refrigerator and got himself a beer, holding one up for her. She shook her head.
“Didn’t think so,” he said, smiling, and then answered her question. “My stuff from the old place was too worn out and beat up to bring here, so I decided I would get some new furniture. I gave the old junk away, except for what you see, but so far I haven’t gotten around to buying anything.” He saluted her with his can of beer. “Think how disappointed any potential burglar would be, going through all the trouble of breaking in just to find this ghost town.” He grinned hugely, savoring the image.
“What’s that?” Cindy asked, as a switch was thrown somewhere in the apartment, followed by a low, steady hum.
He shrugged. “Beats me. It’s either the air conditioning, the air purification system, or the humidifier. This place has them all, not to mention a dozen switches on the stove that defy explanation. You need a pilot’s license to operate it. You should see the owner’s manual; it looks like the Manhattan phone directory.”
Cindy laughed. She loved him in this mood: open, expansive, amusing. She watched as he took a deep swallow of his drink and then turned to look at her, his expression brightening.
“Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you help me buy some stuff for this place? We could shop for it together; it would be a kick.”
“Me?” Cindy said.
“Sure, why not. You’re a classy lady; you’ve got a lot of style. I’m sure you could pick out things that would fit. There’s a place over on Del Rey Avenue that carries everything.”
“Drew, Paula ordered her bed from there; it’s very expensive.”
“I’ve got money. It’s taste I haven’t got.”
“Oh, Drew, don’t be ridiculous,” she said, shaking her head.
“I mean it. I’m no interior decorator; I have no idea what to buy. What do you say, will you help me?”
“Now?”
“No time like the present. Are you through for the day at the library?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s go.” He crushed the empty can and threw it in the trash as he headed for the door. Cindy had no choice but to follow. He locked the door after them and put his arm around her, hugging her to his side. It was the first time since he’d been back that he had touched her, and she felt a thrill of warmth from the contact.
“Do you charge a commission for your services?” he asked softly, as they headed for the elevator.
“My services are always free to a friend,” she replied simply.
“Am I your friend?” he asked, looking down at her.
“I hope so.”
“Count on it,” he said firmly, and punched the button for the elevator.
* * * *
Furniture Gallery was the sort of place where hordes of anxious clerks hovered over every customer, eager to boost their sales commissions. Cindy quickly saw that they would not be able to browse undisturbed, and so enlisted the aid of an elderly lady who didn’t look too aggressive.
“What did you have in mind?” the clerk asked, looking from one to the other expectantly.
“Well, we’re furnishing an oceanfront condo,” Cindy explained.
“I have just the thing,” the lady answered, leading them to a set of flowered chintz sofas with a matching armchair. “Perfect for a vacation home.”
Cindy glanced at Fox, who rolled his eyes. In an undertone he said, “That stuff would be okay if I were planning on giving a lot of pajama parties.”
Trying to keep a straight face, Cindy said, “Maybe we’d better be more specific. It’s not a vacation place; it’s a year-round home that happens to be on the water. And it’s for him,” she added, nodding at Fox.
“Oh, for the gentleman,” the clerk said, beaming. “Something a little more masculine.”
“That might help,” Fox said evenly, and Cindy stepped on his foot. Hard.
The saleslady led them through a morass of various styles, trying to get a feel for what he liked. He seemed to express a preference for plain, functional furniture in quality woods, and they settled on a modern looking dining room set in bleached oak, with twin leather sofas and glass topped tables for the living room. When the clerk began to wander aimlessly through the aisles, obviously exhausted, they decided to leave the bedroom set for another day. Fox went with her to the office to arrange a delivery date, and Cindy saw him slip her a folded bill when he thought no one was looking.
During the following week they had a hilarious time picking out the rest of the furniture, as well as pictures, lamps and knickknacks to complete the apartment. Cindy arranged her schedule to accommodate their shopping trips, and they became well known at the Gallery in short order. Cindy had to correct several people who assumed they were married or engaged, and Fox looked on solemnly as she selected items with amazing rapidity. She had always worked on a budget and it was fun to pick things just because she liked them, without worrying about the cost.
They spent a lot of time together, and by the end of it Cindy was so in love with Drew that she had forgotten what it was like not to know him. She hated to see the project end, but short of wallpapering the ceiling there was nothing left to do. And something was bothering her. Since the day he’d met her at the library, Fox hadn’t pressed her for anything more than a goodnight kiss. Although the atmosphere was rife with sexual tension, he did nothing about it, and Cindy didn’t understand his restraint. Though he was affectionate in a general sense, stroking her hair, touching her face, he avoided more intimate contact with the same deliberate concentration with which he had once sought it. Cindy was relieved in one sense but disappointed in another. She wanted Fox badly and wanted him to feel the same way. She needed his desire, and found that she missed the affirmation of it.
