Winter affair, p.15
Winter Affair, page 15
He folded his arms and nodded. “All right. No more chitchat. I want you to be my wife.”
Leda stared at him, stunned into silence for a moment. Then she said, “You’re insane. In the first place, I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth after what you did. And in the second place, half a year has passed. Where do you get the arrogance to assume that nothing has happened to me, that I’m not married, or anything?”
“I know you’re not married, or anything,” he replied quietly.
“How do you know?” she demanded.
He waited a moment before saying, “I’ve been in touch with Anna.”
Leda blinked. “You’ve been in touch with Anna,” she repeated, in a whisper. Then, louder, “You don’t even know Anna!”
“I do now.”
Leda put her hands to her temples and closed her eyes. Then she opened them. “I think you’d better tell me all about it,” she said with a steadiness she didn’t feel.
He shrugged. “I saw her name on the playbill from Bucks County, and I knew that you and she had joined the same troupe. So I wrote to her.”
“Why didn’t you to write to me?” Leda yelled.
“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen to me. But Anna wasn’t emotionally involved, and I convinced her to let me know how you were doing periodically, so I could keep up with your life.”
“Why that sneaking, conniving...reporting on me behind my back. Wait until I get my hands on her.”
“Don’t blame Anna. I couldn’t take the chance that you might get involved with someone else before I had the opportunity to give you this.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her.
“That’s a copy,” he added. “The original is in the hands of the San Pedro police. They found it when they searched Mike Prescott’s apartment, along with some other interesting items that should be making his life very difficult right about now.”
“Mike Prescott?” Leda mumbled, accepting the paper, her eyes still on Reardon’s face.
“Yeah. You remember him. He was the guy who framed me and then took off to California with my formula. He’s in jail there at the moment, along with my former defense attorney and the chief engineer of the company they all worked for out there.”
Leda glanced down at the note he had given her. It was a second memo in her father’s handwriting, dated the same day as the first one she had seen. It countermanded the first one completely.
From: C. Bradshaw To: K. Reardon Re: Test of B-123 fuel, revised instructions. Decision on test of B-123 fuel reversed. Repeat, test to be conducted as per original plan. New results show compound ready for trial. Disregard earlier orders to postpone test and proceed immediately.
Her father’s signature scrolled across the bottom authenticated it.
“What happened?” Leda asked, her voice barely audible.
“Prescott stole this memo to make sure that the first one, telling me not to proceed with the test, was the only one anybody saw. I received the second one and went ahead with the test, but after the accident it disappeared. Your father must have taken the first one after I was arrested, I think to try to protect me, but the other employees remembered it and testified to its contents at the trial. That made it look like I had disobeyed orders.” Reardon spread his hands. “Don’t you see how Prescott set me up? He made sure he had all the evidence in place to make me look guilty, and then he blew the test sky high to finish me off. And I fell right into his trap.”
“And you say my father tried to help you?”
“I think so. He knew there was a second memo, he wrote it. He kept the first one in his wallet for evidence but he died before he could testify.”
“But why didn’t Prescott destroy this?” Leda asked, gesturing with the note in her hand.
Reardon shrugged. “I don’t know, overconfidence maybe. I had an idea he wouldn’t, he had just the sort of fanatic ego that would keep the goodies around to gloat over in private. He had a whole file on me in his place, you should have seen it: correspondence from your father’s company, all the plans and experiments dealing with my formula, the works.”
“He must be some kind of psychopath.”
“He’s nuts, all right,” Reardon said mildly, as if he had long accepted the mental condition of his former colleague as a fact of life.
“And you’ve been out in California all this time, working on this?” Leda asked.
“That’s right. I went out there and hired a private detective, and together we found out that Prescott was using my old formula, exactly as I designed it for your father’s company. And guess what—no explosions. I instituted a suit for patent infringement, and then reopened the case back in Pennsylvania, charging Prescott and my old lawyer with the deaths of the people at the testing site.”
“You’ve been busy,” Leda murmured, hardly aware of what she was saying.
“Not so busy that I forgot you.”
Leda sat down carefully, her mind racing. “Kyle, how could you afford to quit your job and go out to the coast, hire a detective, all of that?”
“Jim Kendall cosigned a bank loan for me,” Reardon answered simply.
“He’s been a good friend to you,” Leda said. She hesitated before adding in a low tone, “A far better one than I have been.”
Reardon didn’t answer, studying her expression.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before now?” Leda asked, shrugging helplessly.
Reardon shook his head. “Come on, Leda, give me a break. I heard you had read the trial transcript, I could imagine what you thought. My story was incredible enough without going into missing memos and vanishing evidence. I knew how it would sound.”
“You mean you knew I wouldn’t believe you,” Leda murmured, covering her mouth with her hand. “And so you left me alone for six months.”
“No, Leda,” he answered softly. “You left me.”
“Because I thought you had lied to me!” Leda broke down, sobbing for the lost trust, the lost time. “Do you know how I missed you, longed for you?”
“Yes,” he replied tightly. “I think I do.”
“Oh, Kyle, I’m so sorry,” Leda whispered, and he rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms.
“So am I, darling, so am I,” he said soothingly, holding her as she released the torrent of tears she had kept inside for so long. Overcome by the mixed emotions of relief and happiness, she couldn’t do anything more than cling to him and cry. He’s here, she thought, he’s really here, and everything is going to be all right.
Anna chose that opportune moment to enter the dressing room, humming and carrying a sandwich. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Reardon with Leda, and spun around on her heel, heading back out to the hall.
“Anna,” Leda called in a strong voice, sitting up and accepting Reardon’s handkerchief. “Get back in here.”
Anna returned meekly, swallowing a bite of the sandwich she held. “Yes?” she said, dramatically innocent.
“Kyle here has been telling me a very interesting story,” Leda said, and Anna looked at Reardon, wondering how much he had revealed.
“It seems you two have become pen pals,” Leda added dryly.
Anna surrendered. “Phone pals too,” she said. She grinned at Reardon. “Hi, Kyle.”
“Hi, yourself,” he said, laughing,
“I should be mad at you,” Leda said archly, eyeing her friend.
“Are you?” Anna asked, her ham-and-cheese poised in midair.
“No.”
Anna winked. “I did it all in the cause of true love. It was obvious you two were crazy about each other, you just needed a little help, that’s all.”
“Which you provided.”
“Free of charge,” Anna pointed out, taking another bite.
“So what have you been telling this guy for the past six months?” Leda asked, adjusting her position within the circle of Reardon’s arms.
“The details of your social life,” Anna replied.
Leda stared at Reardon. “You know about all those awful dates I had?” she asked, horrified.
He nodded, smiling. “I must say I enjoyed hearing the stories.”
“I’ll bet,” Leda said huffily, throwing Anna a black look.
“Well, I guess I’d better be going,” Anna observed, edging toward the door. “I think you can carry on without me.”
“Lock the door on your way out,” Reardon said huskily, turning Leda to face him.
“I’ll miss you too,” Anna muttered, snatching up her purse as she passed. She exited quickly, fixing the lock as requested.
“Alone at last,” Reardon whispered, seeking Leda’s mouth with his. Silence reigned for long minutes, and then he said, “Where are you staying?”
“At a hotel a few blocks from here,” Leda answered, rubbing her face against his shoulder.
“Too long to wait,” Reardon pronounced. “This couch will have to do.” He pulled her down with him, shifting his weight.
Leda curled luxuriously into his body, closing her eyes. “Kyle, why did you come for me, after the way I left you?”
“You know the answer to that,” he said, smoothing her hair with his old, familiar gesture. “I love you.”
“But I lost faith in you, I really did,” she murmured, unable to forgive herself for what he was able to dismiss.
“You had faith in me when no one else did,” he reminded her.
“But I gave up. I gave up on you too soon.”
“You found what you thought was proof that I had deceived you. I can understand your confusion. People aren’t perfect, Leda, and I don’t expect them to be.” He kissed the side of her neck, trailing his lips along her soft skin. “Do you think you can go back to Yardley with a man who faces the task of clearing his name?”
“Of course. We’ll tackle that together. With what you’ve accomplished already you’ll get your license back.”
“Jim Kendall said I could have my old job until I’m able to fly again.” He hugged her close. “Leda, what about your aunt?”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s stubborn, Kyle, but she isn’t stupid. When she sees the new evidence she’ll admit that she was wrong.”
“I hope so,” he said doubtfully.
“I love you,” Leda said fiercely. “That’s all that matters.”
“Do you, saddle shoes?” he asked. “Do you still?”
“Oh, yes,” she said softly, alarmed that he could even wonder about it. “Oh, yes.” She burrowed into him, seeking the warmth and comfort that only he could give.
“Then the past is forgiven, for both of us. We start over today, okay?” he said, sliding his hands under her sweater.
Leda arched toward him, melting under his much missed, longed-for touch.
“Okay,” she whispered, surrendering to her winter lover—soon to be her husband throughout the year.
– THE END –
I am Doreen Owens Malek, author of over forty books and lifelong fan of romantic fiction. I live in PA with my husband and college student daughter, a mini dachshund and a sun conyer parrot. I would like to tell you a little about myself.
I came to writing by a circuitous route, starting out as an avid reader of Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights and Gone With the Wind and Rebecca, and any other similarly themed books I could find. I first worked as a teacher and then graduated from law school when I desired a more lucrative and independent career. I had always been discouraged from pursuing a writing career by the volatile nature of the business and the relatively poor chance for success. But the realization that I needed a focus for the future encouraged me to do what I had always wanted to do. I sold my fledgling novel to the first editor who read it, and I have been writing ever since. I have written all types of books for all types of people, but my favorite literary pursuit is and always has been romance. Nothing is as rewarding as hearing from my readers, so please use my website to communicate your thoughts and criticisms, as I am always eager to learn from you.
A romance novel rarely disappoints me: in an uncertain world filled with tragedy and sadness, reading about an appealing woman finding a strong man to love her and share her life is the perfect escape. I like to read and write stories in which the main characters overcome obstacles to get together, and then stay together because their mutual devotion cannot be denied no matter what else is happening around them. They always HELP each other and reinforce the quaint but enduring notion that love conquers all—at least in the fictional universe of my imagination. So pull up a chair and take down a book—or pick up a Kindle—and join me in a world where the heroes are tough and headstrong but never boorish and the heroines are feminine and sympathetic but never helpless.
Happy reading! — Doreen Owens Malek
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