LOVE ME TONIGHT

Love Me Tonight

The Harringtons

Gwynne Forster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Since so many of you have written to me over the past several years asking if I would write another book about the Harrington brothers, my editor agreed that it was time to revisit that charming family. As you may know, there were only three Harrington brothers—Telford, Russ and Drake—and each had his own story. However, in my treasure trove of ideas, I discovered that the Harrington family is larger than I initially thought. As such, it gives me great pleasure to bring you this story of the sometimes sizzling, sometimes rocky relationship between another Harrington man and the woman he loves.

If you enjoy this story—and I sincerely hope that you do—you will be happy to learn that a character introduced in this novel, Love Me Tonight, continues the Harrington family series in his own story, A Compromising Affair, which will be published by Arabesque in 2011.

In case you missed the previous award-winning Harrington novels, Once in a Lifetime, After the Loving and Love Me or Leave Me, Arabesque is reissuing them, beginning with Once in a Lifetime in November 2010. I hope you have an opportunity to read them.

I enjoy receiving mail, so please e-mail me at GwynneF@aol.com. If you write by postal mail, reach me at P.O. Box 45, New York, NY 10044, and if you would like a reply, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope. For more information, please contact my agent, Pattie Steel-Perkins, Steel-Perkins Literary Agency, e-mail MYAGENTSPLA@aol.com.

Warmest regards,

Gwynne Forster

Acknowledgments

To my husband and my stepson, whose love, affection and unfailing support are always with me and for which I thank God every day of my life.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 1

Judson Philips sat on his back porch looking at the sunset. He appreciated the longer days and shorter nights of mid-March, for time seemed to pass more swiftly than during the dreariness of winter. He needed the healing that the passage of time would bring.

Rick, his big German shepherd, sat beside him, occasionally rubbing against his leg. “Come on, boy, no use procrastinating. It has to be done, so let’s do it.” He patted Rick on the head, got up and went inside. He’d never realized how big that house was or how lonely he could be in it. With Rick beside him, he ran up the stairs and opened the door to his parents’ bedroom.

For the first time in his life, he was alone in every sense of the word. Being adopted and an only child, he’d been the apple of his parents’ eyes. They doted on him so much that, until he finished high school, achieving his independence had been one long struggle. When he was seven or eight years old, he had often fantasized about leaving Baltimore and becoming a saxophone player with a jazz band and traveling around the world.

He opened several chests of drawers in his parents’ bedroom and found nothing of particular interest. He wasn’t sure what to look for but decided to search in the bottom of his mother’s closet. He found a two-foot square cardboard box with four drawers tucked away. He sat with it on his parents’ bed and opened a drawer.

The sight of his father’s passport gave him cause for hope. The phone rang, breaking the silence and startling him, much like a child caught in mischief.

“Hello,” he said, expecting to hear the voice of one of his mother’s friends calling to console him.

“How’s it going, man?”

“Scott! Not so good,” he began to unburden himself. “You know I loved my parents, and they certainly loved me. But I never got the courage to ask them about my birth parents, because I didn’t want them to think I was unhappy or that they didn’t do enough for me even though I never stopped wanting to know where I came from. Now they’re both gone, and I’ll probably never know. I feel…I don’t know…but it’s as if I have no ties. I don’t belong with…hell! You know what I mean. I’ve just begun looking through my folks’ papers.”

“You gonna try and find your birth parents?”

Judson squeezed his eyes shut. “I have to,” he said.

“I understand. I’m with you, man. You know that.”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“I almost forgot why I called you. I know it’s early after what you’ve just been through with Aunt Bev, Judson, but I thought it would do you good to get out. Tomorrow’s my birthday. And my folks are giving me a party at the Hilton. Remember? What do you say?”

“Uh…all right. I’ll…I’ll be there.” He’d forgotten about Scott’s birthday. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ve…had a lot on my mind.”

“I know that, buddy. I’m glad you’ll come.”

Judson hung up. Scott Galloway had been his close friend since kindergarten, and he couldn’t think of anyone more reliable as a friend. He opened a second drawer and discovered a stack of papers, brown and dry with age. His heartbeat accelerated when he found an old newspaper clipping of a birth announcement. He discovered whoever it was about was born in Hagerstown, Maryland.

“Hmm.” Why would his parents keep the newspaper clipping?

The next morning, Friday, Judson bought Scott a digital camera to replace one he’d lost, had it wrapped and delivered by messenger. He arrived at the party a few minutes after nine that evening, and Scott met him at the entrance to the ballroom.

“Judson,” Scott greeted him. “Thanks for that terrific camera.” He took it from his pocket. “Just what I needed. Uh…I have someone I want you to meet. Marks has been stalking her for the last hour.”

Judson seemed indifferent. He tried not to let his frustration show, but he certainly felt like it. “Happy birthday, Scott. Sorry, but I do not want to meet another one of your cute buddies.”

“This one isn’t a buddy and you’d better not call her cute. She’s a coworker and a friend, and you definitely want to meet her.” He tapped Judson’s shoulder. “Trust me.”

Scott took Judson’s arm and pushed him through the throng of birthday well-wishers, but suddenly stopped. “Judson Philips, this is Curtis Heywood.”

“Judson Philips? Well, how do you do? You’re precisely the man I need to see.”

“How’s that?” Judson asked.

“I’ve got a malpractice suit, and I had planned to call you, but meeting you through a mutual friend suits me better.”

Judson handed Curtis Heywood his card. “Thank you. I’ll be in my law office Monday morning.” He couldn’t spend more time with the man because Scott nudged him on.

He saw her from a distance. If she wasn’t the woman Scott intended to introduce him to, too bad. The closer he got to her, the more certain he was that he wanted to meet her. But with her looks, he couldn’t see how she would be unattached.

When he and Scott were about ten feet from the woman, Judson drew in a deep breath. For the first time since his college days at Harvard, he felt himself vulnerable to a woman. She turned in his direction and glanced directly at him. Her large brown eyes, shaded by long, silky lashes that fanned against her cheeks, seemed to calculate everything about him in that brief look. She focused quickly on the two men who had been standing in front of her.

Scott tapped his hand on the woman’s shoulder and said to the two men with whom she’d been talking, “Excuse me, Pat, Orson,” and stood between them and the woman. “Heather, I want you to meet my very best and oldest friend, Judson Philips. Judson, this is Heather Tatum, one of my colleagues. Heather is a lawyer, the same as you, Judson, except that she’s also a special envoy with the State Department.”

“I’m delighted to meet you, Ms. Tatum,” he said, letting charm supersede his nervousness. “Scott hasn’t told me any more about you than what he just said, and I suspect there’s much more. Would you explain for me what a roving ambassador does?”

“I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Philips. Scott hasn’t told me anything about you either, but I read the papers. I’ve also seen you on television.” A smile softened her dazzling features and seemed to make her flawless dark brown skin glow. “As for being a roving diplomat, that only means that I do odd jobs in foreign countries at the behest of the president and the secretary of state. My father calls me a diplomatic gofer.” The latter brought laughter from the three of them.

“I had to drag Judson out here,” Scott said. “He lost his mother very recently, and he isn’t crazy about big social gatherings anyway, so I’m flattered that he’s here.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Mr. Philips. How recently did she pass?”

“Eleven days ago. Thanks for your kindness.” He didn’t want to stand there staring at her like a love-struck school boy. He looked at Scott, who seemed overly satisfied with himself. “What time is your dad supposed to make that champagne toast?”

“Probably as soon as Mom is sure everybody has seen her dress.”

Heather looked at Judson. “Do you think he’s serious?”

“I certainly hope not. Aunt Ada is what you’d call a woman of substance. She is by no means frivolous.”

“Excuse me a minute,” Scott said and disappeared.

“Scott got me by the arm and told me he wanted me to meet a colleague,” Judson said to Heather. “I saw you before we got to the middle of the room, and I decided that if he wasn’t going to introduce me to you, I didn’t want to meet whoever else he had in mind.”

“Thank you. Where did you go to law school?” she asked him, changing the subject. “Harvard.”

Her grin and the wicked glint in her eyes gave him cause to exercise self-control. “What’s amusing?” he asked her.

“We could never enjoy a Harvard-Yale game together.”

“Say no more.”

“You bet,” she said, still grinning. “We lead 62–58. The eight ties don’t count. I assume you played quarterback.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Why do you assume that?”

“Because you look like one. Quarterbacks lead the team, and most of them are type-A personalities.”

“I’m not sure I should thank you,” he teased.

Their repartee ended when Scott’s father stood and gave the toast. After the toast Scott rejoined them. “Being the oldest of three and the only boy carries much responsibility,” Scott explained sarcastically. “At least that’s what my parents have been trying to make me believe for thirty years. You’re lucky that you were an only child,” Scott said to Judson.

“I was lucky to be anybody’s child,” he said, but Heather’s puzzled expression made him wish he hadn’t uttered the thought aloud.

As the evening wound down, Heather seemed ready to leave.

“May I take you home?” Judson asked, anticipating her mood.

“Thank you,” she said, “but I’m leaving tomorrow for Egypt, and I don’t have much time. I’ve enjoyed meeting you. Good night.”

Judson was admittedly a bit stunned. Wealthy, successful, handsome and a heart-stopper at thirty-four years of age, he was unaccustomed to rejection by anyone.

He stared at Heather’s departing back. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Scott rushed up to Judson. “What happened? Aren’t you taking her home?”

“It appears she’s very busy.”

Scott’s face contorted into a frown. “Didn’t you two get along?”

“I thought we did, but she blew me off.” He lifted first one shoulder and then the other in a shrug. “Looks like I’m losing my edge.”

Judson allowed himself a rueful smile. “Not to worry, buddy. She made a dent, not a chasm.”

Scott looked into the distance. He’d known Judson since they were five years old. “Yeah,” he said, mostly to himself. “If you say so.”

Heather Tatum forced herself to walk out of the Americana Ballroom without looking back. She was not immune to Judson Philips’s charm. Quite the contrary. But she had her own agenda, and he was not part of it. After years of study and long hours of work at the State Department, she had just begun to reach her goal of rising in the foreign service to become an ambassador, and she did not intend to be sidetracked by a charismatic, handsome, perfect specimen of a man.

Lord, but he’s gorgeous, she thought to herself as she got into the waiting limousine, one of the few perks that came with her job. The evening had been fun. Indeed, Scott Galloway knew how to give a party. She’d liked his friend. Judson Philips had a masculine aura that set him apart. He knew who he was and exuded confidence.

“I’m going home, Garth,” she said to the driver, leaned back in the soft leather seat and told herself to get her mind on something other than Philips.

She took out her cell phone and telephoned the woman who cared for her father at the family home in Hagerstown, Maryland. “How’s he doing, Annie?” she asked the housekeeper who doubled as her father’s caretaker. “He didn’t seem to be in a good mood when I talked to him this afternoon.”

“He’s in a better mood. He even watched the baseball game until the Red Sox started knocking home runs. Don’t you worry, Heather. You know I take good care of your father.”

Heather smiled to herself. Annie had worked for the Tatum family since Heather was ten years old and had remained with them after Heather’s mother had run off. She’d often wished her father would have married Annie, who clearly adored him.

“I know you do,” she said. “I have a morning flight to Cairo, but I’ll see you when I get back.”

“I’ll be here.”

She hung up and began mentally sorting out last-minute details for her trip. She didn’t believe in leaving anything to chance.

Heather walked into her room at the Ramses Hilton Hotel in Cairo shortly after noon that Sunday and looked around. As she always did, she tested the hotel bed for firmness. Satisfied, she went to the window and looked out. In the distance, she could see the great Giza pyramids west of the Nile and what looked like miles of sand. What a different world from Baltimore.

As she began to unpack, she glimpsed a large bouquet of calla lilies in a vase painted with the likeness of Queen Nefertiti. She adored calla lilies and had decided that if she married, she would carry them as her wedding bouquet. She made a note to thank the hotel management. She used the phone in her room to check in with the U.S. embassy in Cairo. Then she hung up her clothes and took a shower. From the time she departed from the Baltimore-Washington Thurgood Marshall International Airport until she walked into her room at the Hilton, eighteen tiring hours had elapsed. She ordered a sandwich and a pot of tea from room service and turned on the television.

When her sandwich arrived, she tipped the waiter, then got in bed and watched the news while she ate and drank her tea. Weariness caught up with her. She turned off the television, and when she put her head on the pillow, she noticed a note against the side of the vase and jumped out of bed to open it. She read:

Dear Heather,

I wish you a safe, pleasant and fruitful mission.

Judson Philips

How on earth? What a resourceful man. And what a thoughtful one. She must have made an impact on him, as well. She smiled as she happily fell asleep.

She arose early the next morning, refreshed and ready for work. As she always did when in an Islamic country, she wore a white pantsuit—white was inoffensive and was appropriate for every occasion—with a pale yellow, sleeveless blouse and white shoes. She deferred to local customs to the extent that she could without compromising her values, but she refused to cover her hair or give up her three-inch heels. If anybody objected to her height, it was their problem. She loved her five-foot-eight-and-a-half-inch height, and she loved high heels.

Having made certain that she got to the conference room in time to check out the seating arrangements and have them changed if they didn’t follow protocol, she sat in the place assigned to her and took out her notes and tape recorder. She wondered how many of those present truly cared about the suffering of children in Sudan, which was the subject of the conference.

The discussions got off to a slow start, and shortly after the coffee break, she felt a hand on her thigh. Shocked, she turned around to look at the man.

“Your husband is a fool to let you out of his sight,” he said with a practiced smile, looking certain that he’d complimented her.

She stared at him. “How do you think these delegates will react when I slap your face?”

“Surely, you don’t mean that,” he said, his smile still in place. “Your country and mine are on good terms.”

Her expression didn’t waver. “Remove your hand. One…two…”

He removed his hand. “I don’t know how the American men call themselves men.”

Heather ignored the taunt, for she was accustomed to the attitudes of men from certain developing countries. At five minutes past twelve, she got her chance to address the group, and at the end of her prepared statement, she added her views on the way in which some delegates wasted opportunities to make a difference in the lives of disadvantaged children.

Later, after congratulations on her talk, Mr. Taliah, one of the delegates, asked, “Would you join my wife and me for dinner in our suite this evening? My wife doesn’t go out because she isn’t in purdah. She’s a modern woman and she hates the snide remarks that she gets.” Heather agreed; she knew Mr. Taliah and knew he was married.

However, the minute Heather walked into the room that night, she knew the man had lied. It wasn’t a suite, but a room like her own. She realized the delegate intended a seduction. Without a word, she whirled around and walked out.

Back in her room, she had to admit that the calla lilies lifted her spirits, reminding her Judson Philips admired her as a person.

I must remember to send him a note of thanks, she thought to herself. He went to a lot of trouble and great expense to send me these flowers. They’re still so beautiful. She threw her briefcase on the bed and heaved a long and heavy sigh. She lived a life that most people would not consider normal. At times, neither did she. In her mind she saw Judson Philips’s handsome face, remembered his gracious manner and wondered if he could fill the awful void in her life. But after what she’d seen of her parents’ bitter and loveless marriage, she doubted the wisdom of letting herself care for any man.

“Would you like me to request an apology from Mr. Taliah?” the chief of protocol asked her the next morning when she related the incident from the previous night as she was required to do.

“Of course not,” she said. “It goes with the job.”

She’d made light of it, but she would be glad to set foot in Baltimore that Tuesday afternoon. She liked Egypt, especially the Egyptians—who welcomed her as a sister—but she had little use for pompous diplomats who went to these conferences merely to exploit their status.

Her mission finished, she took one last whiff of the calla lilies in her room and—a smile on her face—made her way to the airport, home and dreams of Judson Philips.

She walked into her office Wednesday morning, locked her briefcase in her desk drawer and went to Scott’s office. “Hi,” he said when she walked in after one knock. “How’d it go?”

“Same old, same old. Great ideas, an excellent report that will be widely circulated and nothing substantial will change,” she complained.

“Good grief, Heather. You’re becoming so cynical.”

“Not really. But I see the same guys at every one of these meetings, and it seems they get less courteous every time. Now, you! How did Judson Philips know I was at the Hilton in Cairo?”

“I know both of you, and I wouldn’t introduce either of you to just anybody. What happened? Didn’t you like him? He needs some cheering up, and so do you.”

“He sent me two dozen of the most beautiful calla lilies I ever saw. How would he know that calla lilies are my favorite flower? You don’t even know that.”

Scott leaned back in his swivel desk chair and rocked. “I said, didn’t you like him?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions. Why wouldn’t I?”

“That is not the answer to my question,” he continued.

“I liked him, Scott,” Heather admitted. “But don’t try to start anything between us. My life isn’t an easy one. My dad isn’t getting any better, and I want to spend all the free time I can muster with him. And you know I’m being considered for an ambassador post. I have to focus on that as much as I can.”

“The two of you have so much in common, Heather. Why don’t you give it a chance? You owe it to yourself.”

“I’m sorry. It’s the wrong time, Scott. He’s…well, he’s nice. I’ll let it go at that. How can I get in touch with him? I want to thank him for those flowers.”

He wrote a number on a notepad and handed it to her. “You can phone him.”

“Thanks, but I want to write him a note.”

“Yeah. You want to be formal. After the trouble he went to, he deserves better.” Scott wrote the address of Judson’s law firm and handed it to Heather. “Too bad. He liked you a lot.”

Judson looked at the letter and wondered at the precise, forward-slanting handwriting. It had no return address. The sender had marked it personal, and he expected it was probably one more invitation to another stuffy affair. He opened it and sat up when he saw the handwritten note.

Dear Judson,

Thank you for the most beautiful calla lilies I ever saw. Two dozen in about five different colors. Calla lilies are my favorite flower, and you couldn’t have known that. They were still in bloom when I left, and I hated that. But as you know, I wouldn’t have been allowed to bring them into the country. Thank you so much for your thoughtfulness.

Yours truly,

Heather

“That’s something,” he said. He folded the note and put it in his pocket. She was an intriguing woman. Several different scenarios flitted through his mind. Did he really want a serious involvement with a roving ambassador? Maybe something casual was what he needed. He leaned back in the chair and made a pyramid of his fingers.

He phoned Scott. “Want to meet for lunch? I have to check on a few things not far from your office.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather be lunching with Heather?”

“If that were the case, friend, I would have called her.”

“Meet you at The Crab Shack.”

They reached The Crab Shack at almost the same time, and sat at their favorite table. “Your usual, gentlemen?” the waiter asked.

“Right,” they said in unison.

“We have a president who’s pushing education,” Judson said to Scott. “I’m planning to start a boys’ study group. And instead of sports, the focus will be academics. Why don’t you start a girls’ group, and we can have competitions that will keep them focused and interested?”

“Me start a girls’ group? Why don’t you rope Heather into it?”

“I don’t want to involve her in this. You get a boys’ group, then. It won’t work unless they have competition.”

“Okay. You do South Baltimore, and I’ll form one in the Reisterstown area,” Scott decided. “Have you made any further progress on your mother’s estate?”

Judson shook his head. “I’ve had too many distractions. I’m going to look into it again tonight, see what I can find. You’d think my parents would have told me or at least left me some explanation. Suppose I need a bone-marrow transplant. Where would I turn?”

“You won’t, and don’t worry. You’ll find what you’re looking for. They didn’t destroy papers that they could some day need.”

“I sure hope you’re right.”

“This isn’t good,” Heather said to herself when she awakened that morning. It isn’t cold, so why do I feel chilly? She got out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Maybe if she drank some coffee, she could pull herself together. She managed to make the coffee, but took a cupful back to her bedroom, put the cup on her nightstand and crawled back into bed. She didn’t get sick. Never. So what was wrong with her?

She couldn’t afford to get sick. She had to take care of her father and be ready for a permanent diplomatic post. If she wasn’t up to it, someone else might get the assignment.

She fell asleep lying across the bed and awakened at a quarter of ten with a full-blown cold. After admitting to herself that she really was sick she phoned Scott. “Hi, this is Heather. I’m home, and I’m feeling rotten.”

“You’ve got a cold. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Looks like it. Could you please ask my secretary to print out that report I was working on and leave it with my doorman when you leave work this afternoon?”

“Sure. But why would you try to work? You’re sick.”

“I know, but it’s due the day after tomorrow, and this is not a good time to start coming up short.”

“All right. I’ll deliver it. Do you have any food—juice, soup or something—for your cold in the house?”

“Scott, you’re such a darling. Why didn’t you and I fall in love? I need some milk, grapefruit juice and eggs. I have coffee and tea.”

“You got it. You and I would never fall in love because both of us need the same thing—someone who’s laid-back. Two type-A personalities would kill each other. Now, take Judson—”

“All right. I got the message,” she said sleepily.

“Go to sleep. See you later.” He hung up, and she managed to do the same. She knew she should eat, but she didn’t have the strength to cook.

The intercom buzzed, awakening her. “Hello.”

“Ms. Tatum. A man is here with some things for you. Shall I send him up?’

“Thanks,” she said and dosed off again.

“Philips speaking.”

“This is Curtis Heywood.”

“Yes. I’ve been expecting your call.”

“I believe I have a good lawsuit against a medical diagnostic group, and I’d like you to take the case.”

Judson listened while Curtis described the complaint. “Have you omitted anything that you might have done that could weaken your case? I need to know that up front.”

“I’m certain that I’m not at fault in any way.”

It sounded like a good case, but he wouldn’t be certain until he dug into it himself. “Can you be here tomorrow morning at nine and bring your papers and any evidence?”

“I’ll be there. Thanks for your time.”

“You’re welcome. See you tomorrow.”

Judson hung up, saw the caller ID on his private line and lifted the receiver, smiling at the sound of his friend’s voice. “What’s up, Scott?”

“I need you to do me a favor—and hear me out before you get your back up. I promised Heather that I’d bring a report and some groceries to her today after work because she’s sick at home. The thing is I can’t, because I have to stay in D.C. and deal with an issue that just came in. Working in D.C. and living in Baltimore has advantages, but right now, friend, it’s a disadvantage. As a favor would you please take the report and the care package to her on your way home? You can leave it with her doorman, if you don’t want to see her.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Maybe a cold. She sounded really sick.”

Judson wondered if it was one of Scott’s tricks to try to get him to see Heather. “If she’s sick, and you can’t go, of course I’ll do it. But if I find out that you’re up to your old shenanigans—”

“Judson, if you’d rather not, I’ll see if I can get somebody else to do it.”

“I’ll be at your office for that report around four o’clock. Did she say what she needs?”

“She said bread, milk, grapefruit juice and maybe some eggs. I guess she hasn’t had time to do any shopping since she got back.”

“Maybe. See you at four.” There was something special about Heather Tatum, and he wanted to know what it was.

Later, he stopped by Scott’s office at the State Department in D.C., collected the report and headed up I-95. Once in Baltimore, he went to a supermarket, where he bought bread, milk, eggs, grapefruit juice and butter. On an whim, he parked at a specialty restaurant on Calvert Street and bought a large container of chicken soup. If she’s got a cold, maybe I ought to get something for that, he thought to himself. He stopped at a drugstore and bought some over-the-counter cold medicine.

“I have some things to deliver to Ms. Tatum,” Judson announced to the doorman, careful not to identify himself. The doorman rang Heather’s apartment.

“There’s a man here to deliver some things to you. Shall I send him up?” He looked at Judson. “She said you can go up. Apartment 34–F.”

Relief spread over his face when she hadn’t asked who it was. He got off the elevator at the thirty-fourth floor, turned in the direction of apartment F, rang the doorbell and waited.

The door opened, and she stared up at him, blinking so that she could be certain to trust her eyes. “Judson? What—”

From her appearance, she’d just crawled out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe and made it to the door.

“Hi. Scott couldn’t make it, so I brought your report and some groceries,” Judson said, in a chirpy voice.

She stood facing him and staring at him. He grinned, hoping to put her off balance, and it must have worked since she smiled. “Why don’t I put this stuff in the refrigerator for you?” he said, suddenly feeling less vulnerable. “And maybe you ought to go back to bed.”

“If I’m taking orders, I must be sick for sure,” she mumbled. Judson overheard her but decided to ignore the retort. “To your left,” she said, and went back to bed.

“Are you in bed?” he called to her after putting away the groceries.

“I am, and I’m sorry, Judson. It’s really nice of you to do this, but I’m feeling too sick to be civil, much less good company.”

At least she didn’t apologize for the way she looked, and she needn’t have. The woman looked great even with a runny nose, watery eyes. He walked into her room where she was clutching the covers tight around her neck. Why didn’t that surprise him? He didn’t laugh, but it took a lot to keep a straight face. “Have you had lunch?”

“I don’t think I ate today, but if you brought me eggs, I’ll scramble them and eat a bit later.”

He removed his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair. “I can do that, Heather. Don’t get up. I’ll find what I need.”

He awakened her sometime later to the aroma of chicken. He had placed a tray on a chair beside her bed. “Think you could eat a little something?” he asked her in a tender voice.

When she tried to sit up, Judson reached over, and propped some pillows behind her back. “If you’ll give me a second, I’ll get you a damp towel and you can wash you face.” He came back with the towel and handed it to her. “You’ll feel better.”

She did as he suggested. “You’re right. I do.” She looked at the tray beside the bed. “You fixed all that?”

“It isn’t much. If you eat a little of everything, you’ll feel better. And take this Ester-C vitamin.” He put the tray in her lap and sat on the chair.

“Chicken soup.” She tasted it. “Judson, this is delicious. Why’d you go to all this trouble?”

“I wanted to make you feel badly for blowing me off,” he said with a smile.

With the spoon halfway between the soup bowl and her mouth, she paused and looked at him with a curious expression. Suddenly she laughed. “You’re sarcastic, and I wouldn’t have thought so.” She tasted the soup. “This is so good.”

“Eat some of the eggs. You need the protein.”

She ate the two scrambled eggs. “Hmm. You weren’t kidding.” She frowned slightly and seemed to be making up her mind about something. She finished chewing the toast and put her fork on the tray.

“I want to ask you about something you said the night we met, and if you think I’m out of line, just say so. I can handle it.”

“Fine. As long as you don’t ask me why I’m here.”

“I wasn’t going to ask that. The night we met, you said ‘I was lucky I was anybody’s child.’ Scott didn’t say anything, but it got me thinking. May I ask what you meant?”

He never had liked answering personal questions. He had nothing to hide, but he liked his privacy and guarded it tenaciously. Considering where the conversation seemed headed, it was better that she know now rather than later. “I was adopted, Heather, and now that both of my parents have died, I’m at a loss about my birth parents. I never asked my mother and father, because they loved me so much, and I was a happy child. But I always wanted to know about my background, especially who I looked like. I didn’t ask them because I was afraid they’d think I was unhappy or that I was lacking something that I thought my birth parents could have given me.”

“I’m sorry, Judson. Your parents seem to have done exceedingly well by you.”

“Absolutely. They couldn’t have done a better job, and especially since I was at times very wayward.”

“You!” she exclaimed, in a teasing voice.

“I had a mind of my own, and if I didn’t see the logic in something, I wouldn’t do it. That caused friction between me and my parents until they understood and took the time to explain things to me. By the time I was twelve, we didn’t have those problems.”

“I can’t imagine how important it is to you to know who your biological parents are, but will you be terribly unhappy if you don’t find them?”

“I don’t have to meet them, Heather. I just want to know who they are or were. Then I’ll have a better sense of who I am. My adoption probably improved my chances for a good life, so I don’t think I missed out on anything material.”

She resumed eating her soup. “This is so good.” She put down her spoon. “Judson, if your adoptive parents loved each other and treated you well, you are fortunate. My parents constantly fought. Dad claims that they were madly in love when they first got married, though I never believed it—they acted as if they hated each other. When I was nine, my mother had had it. She left, and I have no idea where she is. When I asked my father about her, he said marriage was very difficult for her, that the day-to-day discipline of marriage didn’t suit everyone. I believe that.”

He could see that it still pained her. “I’m sorry that your childhood was unpleasant. What does your father do?”

Her pride was obvious when she smiled and said, “He taught history at the university until he retired six years ago. They’ve named a distinguished chair for him in the department. Now, unfortunately, he’s confined to the house and sometimes to bed. He hasn’t been well for a couple of years.”

“At least you still have him with you,” Judson said. “Do everything you can for him, so when he’s gone, you won’t have any regrets.”

She closed her eyes briefly, and he imagined that the thought of losing her father hurt her. He covered her hand with his because he couldn’t help it. “Is there anyone close to you?” She let her hand remain covered by his.

“Thanks. There’s Annie. She keeps house for my father and takes care of him. She’s like a mother to me. Father hired her after my mother left, and…I used to wish he’d marry her.”

“So you’d have a mother?”

She looked at him almost as if seeing him for the first time. “I don’t know. I hadn’t figured that out. Maybe. You are very perceptive.”

He could see that she was beginning to tire. “Let me take that tray back to the kitchen. I’ve stayed too long, and you’re getting tired.” While he cleaned the kitchen, his mind traveled back to their conversation. He hoped they would get to know each other, and after today he liked her even more than before. She was compassionate and caring, and those traits in a woman meant everything to him.

“I’d better go, Heather. Do you mind if I look in on you or call to see how you are?”

“I don’t mind at all. I don’t think I’ll go in to work tomorrow, but I may. Mind can control matter.”

“I don’t doubt that one bit,” he said.

“Thank you for the visit, for the company and for my wonderful supper.”

“The pleasure was mine.” He put a bottle of Ester-C vitamins in her hand. “Take two before you sleep.” Then, he leaned down and kissed her cheek. He hadn’t planned to do it, and he surprised himself. “Don’t go to sleep without locking that door.”

“It will lock automatically when you leave, but I’ll double check.” She seemed suddenly pensive. “Judson, I don’t lead a normal life. If you invest your time in me, it may prove futile.”

“Don’t be so sure. Good night, Heather.”

“Good night, Judson.”

He got on the elevator and, after standing there for a while, realized that he forgot to push the button. As he descended, he felt a growing confidence. He took a chance, and it paid off. Heather Tatum wouldn’t be easy. She had to be tended like a seedling in a garden. Fine with him. He had the time and the patience.

When he got home, he greeted his dog, Rick, checked his answering machine and saw that he had five calls from Scott.

He dialed Scott’s home number. “What’s eating you? I didn’t get five calls from you all last month,” Judson said.

“Where the heck were you? How’s Heather? Is she mad at me?”

He sat down, rested his left ankle on his right knee and prepared to enjoy himself. “How would I know? To the best of my knowledge, she didn’t mention your name.”

“Come on, man. How is she?”

“Well, when I give a woman TLC, she becomes as soft as a pillow. You should try it.”

“Judson,” Scott said firmly. “Heather’s my friend. Is she all right?”

“She has a bad cold, and she hadn’t eaten all day. So I gave her soup, scrambled eggs and toast.”

“Good. Are the two of you going to be friends? I mean…you know what I mean.”

“We talked and got to know each other a little better. She’s interesting and extremely likeable. We’ll see how it goes. I’d better get something to eat and start going through my mother’s effects. I don’t know why, but I dread it.”

“I’ll get some pizza and a salad. You got any beer?”

“Always.”

“I’ll be over there in an hour.”

He changed into blue jeans and a T-shirt and went into his mother’s bedroom. Rick trailed behind him as usual. He got the cardboard box from the closet, put it on the bed and sat down. After removing the rubber band holding the bundle of papers, he carefully opened each sheet. Some sheets of paper had already begun to crumble with age.

“What’s this?” he said as he stared at the death certificate of an infant who had died. He wondered if that was why he’d been adopted. He put the death certificate aside along with the newspaper clipping of the birth announcement. They could prove useful.

Before long, Scott arrived with a pepperoni-and-mushroom pizza, a Greek salad and a cheesecake. “You planning to feed a football team?” Judson chided him. While they ate, he told Scott what he’d found so far.

“You mean you’ve never seen your birth certificate?” Scott asked him. “How’d you get into school?”

“I’ve had a passport since I was three, and my parents renewed it every year. When I became an adult, I did the same.”

“You have to find your birth certificate.”

“I found a newspaper clipping about a child who was born in Hagerstown. I’m going to see if I can find anyone who knows why my parents would save that birth notice.”

“Well, do it without making a fuss. Don’t forget that you’re pretty well-known in this area.”

“Yeah. I hadn’t thought of that.

“I don’t see anything else in these papers, except property deeds, an infant death certificate, their marriage certificate and that sort of thing. I’ll go through this stuff again after time puts some distance between me and all this.”

Chapter 2

Heather got up, put the chain latch on the door and went to the kitchen for some water. She wanted to take the vitamin that Judson had brought her. She had expected to see dirty dinner dishes, pots and pans and cooking utensils piled up in the sink. Instead, the kitchen looked immaculate. She looked into the refrigerator and saw that Judson had put away the eggs and butter precisely as she would have.

“Hmm.” She wouldn’t have suspected that he was a neat freak. She got a glass of water and went back to bed. She owned several sexy negligees, yet Judson Philips had caught her looking frumpy. But so what? He had shown her that he could be sweet as well as charming, that he was thoughtful and kind. She couldn’t say that she was sorry about Judson’s visit, but she had a little pang in the region of her heart. Maybe the day would come when she could let herself freely go with a man she cared about and who cared for her, but she couldn’t for now. She had too far to go and a rough road ahead. But somehow…

Judson had grown up in a loving family. She needed to talk to her father. The explanation that “marriage didn’t suit everybody” suddenly did not suffice. There was always a reason why a marriage was in turmoil.

She reached for the phone and dialed Annie. “Hi. How’s Daddy?”

“I was reading the paper to him and he dosed off to sleep. He does that a lot lately.”

“I’ve got a cold, but if I can get better soon, I’ll be over there Friday and spend the weekend.”

“It’ll be good. He always cheers up when you’re here.”

Heather drove her own car to Hagerstown. She always felt guilty whenever her chauffeur spent a weekend sitting in the limousine with nothing to do, because she didn’t want to go anyplace. She parked in front of the family home, a white-brick Georgian, and went inside.

She hugged Annie, who met her at the door. “Hi. Is Daddy awake?”

“Yes, indeed. And he was so excited when I told him you’d be here. He’s in his room.”

She dashed up the stairs to her father’s room and knocked on the door. “Come in.” His once-deep baritone had become the voice of a weaker, older man.

“Hi, Daddy,” she said as she walked in his bedroom and saw him sitting in his big chair looking out the window. She leaned down, kissed his cheek and hugged him.

“Heather! How good to see you. Talking to you on the phone is one thing, but it’s always so good when you’re here. How was Cairo?”

“I always enjoy Egypt, Daddy. But progress is slow, and those conferences often seem more of a diplomatic liability than an asset.”

“You’re impatient. Until people begin to share information about their problems and look for solutions together, no progress will be made at all. Scott called me yesterday. I always wished you two would get together, but once you started that brother-sister thing, it didn’t stand a chance,” he teased.

She couldn’t help smiling. After three years, her father still hoped for the impossible between Scott and her. “He’s my best friend, Daddy.”

She didn’t think it time to bring up what she came there to discuss with him. Her father wouldn’t jump right into a conversation about his personal life, so she’d have to ease into it.

On Sunday morning after breakfast when the time approached to leave, she figured that she had no choice but to bring it up. But, he surprised her by saying that he had something to tell her.

“Let’s sit out on the back terrace where it’s sunny and warm,” she said, walking with him, matching his slow, unsteady pace.

“I guess you know I’m not getting better, Heather.” She leaned forward, knowing her father would say it, yet not wanting to hear it. “Nothing’s imminent, but we both have to prepare for it. I am not going to get better. I know it, and my doctor knows it.”

“But, Daddy, how can you say that? You’re much better today than when I was last here.”

“And I may be much worse tomorrow. That’s the way it goes, dear,” he said kindly. “But I don’t want you to worry. I’ve had a very good life, and you’ve been the best part of it.”

She patted his hand and counseled herself not to shed a single tear. “You know, Daddy, a couple of weeks ago Scott introduced me to his closest friend, Judson Philips. We’re attracted to each other, and he’s kind and—”

“The lawyer?”

She nodded.

“I’ve heard a lot about him.”

She had told him about Judson’s visit when she was sick earlier that week.

“He’s obviously interested in seeing whether the two of you can make it,” her father stated. “What’s holding you back?”

“Dad, you said some people aren’t suited to marriage. Maybe I’m one of them. After all, my mother wasn’t.”

“I see.” He looked into the distance, took a deep breath and shook his head.

“You were twelve or so when I told you that. It was an explanation that a child could understand, but I see that it gave you the wrong impression. You see, I was crazy in love with your mother, but Linda was in love with someone else, and I knew it. I thought I could teach her to love me. For a while, she tried to make a go of it, but she never stopped loving him. The relationship between us got worse, much worse. She knew how much I loved her and, because she was miserable, she baited me and every conversation led to an argument. One day, she called me at work and said she wouldn’t be there when I got home and that I should tell you whatever I thought would make it easier for you.”

“And you never heard from her again?”

“Not once. I have a strong feeling that she went to the other man, Lyle Carter. I didn’t blame her for that. I knew she was in love with him, but I always worried about her because he could be cruel.” At her silence, he continued. “I know this is a lot for you to take in. Don’t hate her. She thought I would be her salvation, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t make her forget him.”

“Do you still care about her after all these years?”

He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. “I won’t say I’m still in love with her. That ended long ago. But the pain’s still there. After all, she gave me you, and for that, I’ll always have feelings for her.”

“You’re right. I wasn’t expecting this.”

He sat forward and braced his hands on his knees. “I want you to listen to me because what I’m telling you is important. Go ahead and pursue your goal of becoming a diplomat, but if that’s all you accomplish in life, you won’t have a sense of fulfillment. You need friends, spiritual fulfillment and the love of a man who loves you. If you’re fortunate, you’ll have children. Give Judson Philips a chance.”

She thought about what her father had said for a minute and then spoke before thinking. “Why didn’t you give Annie a chance? She’s devoted her life to you.”

A smile played around his lips. “You’re a smart one. We settled that years ago. She was afraid people would think she was living in sin and refused to be seen with me outside of this house. I told her that I wouldn’t settle for a woman who was ashamed of me. No woman was going to hide me in her closet.”

Driving home that afternoon, Heather carried a weight on her mind that she hadn’t before. Her father was terminally ill. What she’d believed about her parents’ marriage was suddenly called into question. Her father and Annie cared for each other but were too stubborn to do anything about it. And the person she loved and respected most had challenged her to find out what kind of man Judson Philips might be. She could take his advice, or she could be stubborn. Stubbornness had always been a part of her makeup. She didn’t know what to do. Maybe she wouldn’t do anything.

By the time Heather arrived home, she admitted grudgingly that Judson was as likeable as he was attractive. She was accustomed to trusting her mind, but it wasn’t working properly because her father had unsettled her in a way that would have put Einstein in a quandary. “What the hell!” she said to herself as she unlocked the door of her apartment. “I’ll deal with it.”

More that ever, Judson felt an urge to know who he was. He was thirty-four years old, and the time would soon come when he would want to marry and raise a family. He figured he ought to know more about his background, if only for his children’s sake.

“I suspect I’m going to need all the financial resources I can muster,” he said to Scott when they spoke by phone Sunday evening.

“So you’re going to really pursue it, huh? A lot of adoption papers are sealed. It won’t be easy.”

He tapped the nightstand with his rubber eraser. “I’m going a different route. I believe I know where I was born, and I’ll take it from there. If I hit a blank wall, I’ll figure out something else. Right now, my gut instinct is to begin with the bits of information I have. I’ll be busy. I’ve taken on a new case and it’s going to be tough.”

“What’s the topic?”

“A radiology report that led to a misdiagnosis.”

“Did the patient die as a result?”

“No. The patient’s and the doctor’s reputations were injured. I’ll file suit in about six weeks.”

“You sound pretty confident.”

“There’s no guesswork.” He paused. “Have you seen Heather this week?”

“She was at work Friday. She told me she was worried about her dad.”

“I gathered as much the day I visited her. Gotta go.”

He hung up and dialed Heather’s number. “This is Judson,” he said when she answered. “How are you feeling?”

“Not much of my cold left, Judson. How are you?”

“I’m fine. How’s your dad?”

“I just left him. We had a good visit, but he told me that neither he nor his doctor expects his condition to improve. I had to keep a straight face. I didn’t want him to start worrying about me. But th-this is awful, Judson.”

“Believe me, I know. If you don’t have any plans, would you have dinner with me? I know it’s a last-minute invitation, but I want to see you. Maybe you’d feel better with some company.”

She didn’t hesitate. “I may not be good company, but if you think I won’t ruin your Sunday evening, okay. Give me about forty-five minutes.”

Just the kind of woman he liked. Not a hint of coyness. “I’ll be there at seven o’clock.” He hung up. Whether she agreed because of her mood, or because she liked his company was immaterial. She’d agreed to see him; he could handle the rest.

At least he’ll see me without a runny nose, Heather thought, rationalizing why she’d agreed to have dinner with Judson. She rarely got depressed, but her father and Annie were all she had, and the thought of losing her father was more than she was able to contemplate right now. She went to her closet and scanned it for anything that was attractive and red, a color that always made her feel outgoing and confident.

Her V-neck, sleeveless dress had a wide, multitiered skirt, and when she looked at herself in the full-length mirror, she thought of her college graduation.

“You’ve come a long way in a short time,” she said aloud. The doorbell rang. She looked down at her red toenails peeping through the straps of her three-inch heel, black patent-leather sandals and wondered what Judson would think of them. She was who she was. Tossing her head, she strolled to the door and opened it.

“Hi. You’re right on time. Come in.”

He handed her three calla lilies—red, purple and yellow—wrapped in cellophane and tied with a red ribbon. “Hi. How are you feeling?”

“I’m making it. These flowers are lovely. I think they’re precisely what I need. Just the right touch.”

“Thank you. I’ve chosen an Italian restaurant that specializes in seafood, but if you’d prefer something else, I have a couple of alternatives.”

“Excuse me a minute.” She went into the kitchen, put the flowers in a vase with water and returned with them. “I think I’ll put them in the living room on the coffee table. When I get back I’ll put them on my nightstand. And by the way, I love Italian food. Italian is always your best bet with me.”

“I’m glad to know that,” he said.

Heather grabbed a white cashmere sweater and joined him.

“Ready?” he asked.

She locked the door to her house and followed Judson to his car. “How did I know you’d drive a Buick?” She said aloud and immediately wished she could have kicked herself.

“Now, you are definitely going to have to explain that,” he said.

“You are not ostentatious, but you like quality. My second guess would be a Mercedes, but that’s got status written all over it, so you’d choose something else.”

He glanced at her as he pulled away from the curb. “And to think I’ve had the impression that I’m complicated. I’m not a show-off. You’re right about that. I love the Mercedes coupe, but this car uses less gas and is kinder to the environment. How did you get to Hagerstown?”

“I drove. State Department gives me a chauffeured car, but I’d rather not use it for personal business, unless I have to. I do use it at night. My car’s a Lexus.” She held up her hand. “I know. I should be helping our environment, but at least I’m helping our employment rate, since that car’s made here.”

“How long does it take you to drive to Hagerstown?”

“An hour and a half or so, but one day I’ll get caught.”

“I won’t go there,” he kidded. “I’m planning on visiting Hagerstown soon to begin looking for my birth parents. I found a birth announcement for a boy who’d be about my age. Coincidently, my adoptive mother was born there.”

Heather didn’t want to discourage Judson, so she said, “You have to look everywhere until you’re successful, so starting with the birth announcement newspaper clipping is as good a place as any. Will you be looking for any relatives?”

“That’s the idea. Some of them may know something.”

“If I can help you in any way, you know I will.”

“I appreciate that. First, I’ll find the names and contact information of African-American newspapers.”

“Judson, you don’t have to research that. Most of that information is available in the local library or the Internet.”

“Thanks. This is very helpful.”

“I think you have an angel on your shoulder. It’s probably not an accident that Scott finally decided to introduce us. He’s told me before that he had a friend he wanted me to meet, but I wasn’t interested.”

He parked in a lot a few doors from the restaurant and walked around to open the door for her. “Thanks for letting me be a gentleman,” he said. “I know you can open the door, get out, close it and also fasten your seat belt by yourself. But it will give me great pleasure to do those things for you. I may be old-fashioned. Is that going to cause a problem for you?”

She thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. It’s when a guy gets too possessive that it becomes a problem.”

“I can well imagine.”

“Let’s just say that he is no longer relevant.”

After entering the restaurant, the maitre d’ seated them, and when Heather looked at the menu, her eyes widened. “This menu is full of things that I love,” she said brightly. In the end, she settled for Parma ham with figs in Marsala wine for a starter and a soup of scallops, lobster, cuttle fish, shrimp, clams and spicy tomato sauce for the main dish. He ordered the same.

Judson strummed his left fingers on the white tablecloth, then leaned back in his chair and looked at her. “You said the guy who got out of line with you is no longer relevant. Was that your choice or his?”

“I told him how I felt, and we agreed that we had no future. If he hadn’t agreed, it still would have been over for me.”

“Is there a man in your life right now?”

“You cut right to the chase. No, there isn’t. My father lectured to me about that today. He’s probably right, but when I focus on something, it takes priority.”

“You mean your career in the State Department?” She nodded. “Don’t you want a family?”

“Of course I do, but I think I can have both.”

“I agree. You can. But not unless you make the effort.” Suddenly, he leaned forward. “The more I see of you and the better I know you, the more I want to know. And there is definitely more than a spark between us.”

“I’m honest, Judson. Yes, there is. But I’ve worked hard to get where I am, and I want a diplomatic post.”

“If I can balance a medical malpractice suit, a family fight over a rich man’s will, a case involving banks in different countries and a lawsuit against an accountant and deal with all of them, I’m sure we can manage a get-together from time to time. You’re as smart as I am, maybe smarter. You can handle it. So how about it?”

“I see you’ve figured out how to respond to certain kinds of challenges.”

He lifted her hand, and she noticed not for the first time his long, tapered fingers. They were the beautiful hands of a capable man, and she wondered how they would feel on her naked body. She looked up, and shivers shot through her at the longing in his eyes.

“I know myself, Heather. I know what I want.”

The waiter then brought their first course. She looked at the food covering the dinner plate. “If I eat all this, I won’t want my seafood course.”

“The owners are generous by nature. They’re also forgiving, so leave what you can’t eat.” He called the waiter. “I’d like a bottle of pinot grigio Santa Margherita.” He turned back to Heather. “So, do you know what you want from us?”

She savored the ripe fig. “My, you’re tenacious. No wonder you’re successful. It’s a trait that I admire.”

He stopped eating and looked at her. “You haven’t answered my question.”

She laughed with joy. “Oh, Judson. I’m so glad you called me today. I needed this.”

“Did you need me?”

She gave him a brilliant smile. “Possibly. I’m not sure.”

Outside the restaurant, the warm spring wind brushed his face as he gazed down at the woman beside him. Six weeks earlier, he’d stood in a cool, caressing wind watching as his mother’s friends threw roses at her grave site, thinking that he never again wanted the wind to touch his face. He had loved the woman who took him in and mothered him when someone else hadn’t wanted him, and losing her left an awful hole.

He needed a family of his own making. As he looked at Heather, a smile lit her face, and he took her hand and began walking to his car. Maybe she could fill the void in his life. He wasn’t sure, but he did know that that feeling of loneliness had disappeared.

“It’s early,” he said. “If your day hasn’t tired you out, we could stop by the Eubie Blake National Jazz Institute and Cultural Center for a short while, or—”

“I’d like that. I’m not bubbling with energy, but I won’t turn down an opportunity to hear live jazz.”

“I’m glad you like jazz. I could listen to the great jazz players of the past forever. I have a good collection of their records.”

“Interesting. Of course, I have quite a few Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Fats Waller and Billie Holiday, but the collections are not nearly complete.”

He squeezed her fingers. “What else do you like?”

“Everything that isn’t ultramodern—classical, opera, blues and country. If I can’t remember it, I don’t want to hear it.”

“If you had asked me that question, my answer would have been just about the same as yours.”

At Eubie Blake’s, he greeted the doorman, tipped him and got a front-row table facing the band. Sipping coffee and apparently lost in the music, Heather didn’t pull away from him holding her hand. He marveled that she seemed to accept that they would have a relationship of some kind so easily.

They spent an hour at the jazz house. As he walked with her from the elevator to the door of her apartment, he wondered what she’d do if he hugged her good-night. He didn’t dare attempt to kiss her. He wasn’t in awe of her status. How could he be after spending several hours gazing at the outline of her beautiful breasts and the print of her nipples against the soft fabric of the dress she wore? He’d walked behind her wondering if her lovely hips would move in unison with his. No, it wasn’t awe that stopped him. It was respect.

“May I have your key?”

She handed it to him without the slightest hesitancy and stood aside while he opened the door. “Call me when you get home,” she said, and as if she read his mind, she added, “I’m not urging you off. I want to know that you got home safely. You don’t have to talk. Give it two rings and hang up.”

Impulsively he brought her into his arms and hugged her. The feel of her soft and pliant body stirred something inside of him, and he released her at once. When she looked at him with an inquiring expression, he explained.

“I’d still be holding you, but I don’t want to lose any points with you.”

She reached up and stroked his left cheek with the back of her hand. “You have some points in reserve. Thanks for a really lovely evening, and get home safely.”

Several thoughts lodged in his mind as he walked away. Had she been telling him that she liked it when he hugged her, that he could have kissed her, or that she would have forgiven him because he’d showed signs of decency?

“Oh, heck!” he said between his teeth. “Why hadn’t she just come out and said it? Getting to know a woman is so damned difficult. I wish they weren’t so mysterious.”

Later, he walked into his apartment and called her. She had his office and cell phone numbers, and he wanted her to know how to reach him on his home phone. The number would register on her phone.

He nearly laughed when she answered on the second ring. “Hi. This is Judson. I’m home without mishap.”

“I’ll thank the Lord when I say my prayers. Good night.”

“You’re a sweet woman. Good night.”

“I’m getting involved with this man,” Heather said to herself the next morning, thinking of her evening with Judson and still uncertain as to the wisdom of it. She enjoyed his company, and he fit well into her comfort zone with no effort. It seemed natural to be with him.

As she entered the elevator she encountered Scott at the State Department. “How’s it going?” he asked as usual.

“Some good and some bad, Scott. With me, you know nothing ever goes perfectly.”

“No? What about you and Judson? Have you seen him yet?”

“Yes, but… We had dinner together last night.”

They stepped off the elevator, and he gently grabbed her left arm. “I don’t get it. I’d have sworn that you two were perfect for each other. Don’t you get along?”

“Stop worrying about us, Scott. He’s… What do I know? I haven’t had enough experience to judge whether it’s right to feel so comfortable with a man you hardly know. I mean, I don’t even bother to put up my guard when I’m with Judson, and that isn’t my style at all.”

“Why shouldn’t you feel comfortable with him? Besides, the real reason you’re comfortable with him is because you trust him.”

“Yes. You may be right. I guess what I’ve needed was a brother.”

A grin spread over his face. “You’ve got a brother. What am I supposed to be?”

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Scott, that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me in all the time I’ve known you. If you ever need a sister remember that you have one in me. And if the people on this floor wouldn’t get the wrong idea, I’d hug you.”

He winked at her. “Hug accepted. Save the real ones for Judson.”

“I will,” she said and headed for her office, her steps quick and light. Sitting at her desk, she saw in her in-box a letter, the return address of which told her that this was what she had awaited all of her professional career. With trembling fingers and eyes tightly closed, she pried open the flap of the envelope. And after she forced her eyelids to open, she read that she should make an appointment with her superior for an interview the following morning. Her boss was preparing to appoint an ambassador to Albania.

She wanted the promotion, and it was due, but she did not want to go all the way to Albania. She told Judson as much when he called her a few minutes before noon.

“At least they’re not sending you to Calcutta,” he said. “It could be much worse.”

“It isn’t an appointment. It’s only my first query. They have an opening, and they want to know whether I have the potential to serve as a full ambassador. I definitely do not plan to spend an important chunk of my life in a place that doesn’t have a first-class symphony orchestra,” she complained.

He couldn’t help laughing. “You’ll have to start small, though. At any rate, I’m glad that you’re being recognized.”

“Thanks. So am I. What are you planning for today?” she asked him.

“I have some interviews in connection with that medical malpractice suit. What time do you think you’ll get home tomorrow?”

“Sometime late in the afternoon. Maybe around five-thirty or six.”

“Could we have dinner together at about seven?”

She hadn’t expected him to want to see her again so soon. “I’d like that. Come by for me at six-thirty.” She suspected that she had a lot to learn about Judson. She told herself to be home by five-thirty.

“Thanks. See you at six-thirty. Good luck with your interview tomorrow.” They hung up.

Heather knew that she had no plans to accept a post in Albania, neither then nor ever. Let them give that post to a deserving political junkie. She was a career diplomat, and she had earned their more thoughtful consideration. And if she didn’t get it, she certainly had other, good options.

“I can always practice law,” she said to herself, “or, for that matter, I can teach.”

But the idea of giving up on her dream, as so many of her colleagues had been forced to do, dampened her spirits.

“I’m going to have to postpone our court date,” Judson told Curtis Heywood. “Two of your witnesses don’t want to be involved, and I’ll have to find others. Meanwhile, see if you can locate more evidence. I’ll put my research staff on it, and if there’s evidence of culpability beyond what we have, they’ll find it.”

He put the phone back in its cradle, leaned back in his chair and made a pyramid of his ten fingers. The case didn’t bother him. He knew he’d win it. The problem was to get additional evidence so that it wouldn’t drag on while the defense lawyer manufactured one cockamamy scenario after another.

His thoughts centered on Heather. Her news that she could be sent to Albania didn’t cheer him. Their relationship was too new to withstand a lengthy separation. It was one more reason why he had to get his life in order, beginning with his identity. He left the office an hour earlier than usual, went home and headed for his mother’s bedroom. He’d start there, but, if necessary, he’d search every centimeter of the house and its contents from the basement to the attic. He threw his jacket across a chair, rolled up his sleeves and opened the closet door.

Again, he found nothing of relevance in his mother’s room other than the mysterious birth announcement and the birth and death certificates of the infant who succumbed not long before his parents adopted him. At least that was his impression based on what he knew of the timing of his adoption. He would have to go to Hagerstown and begin the search there.

“I’m going to Hagerstown tomorrow,” he told Heather the next evening as they dined at Chiapparelli’s in Baltimore’s Little Italy. “I hope I have as much luck as you did today.”

“So do I. If you can get one lead, you’re on your way.”

“Will they offer you an ambassadorship if you go to Albania?” He held his breath until he had her answer.

“Probably, but I have the right to refuse any post.”

“Would you really refuse? I’m not sure that would be a good career move, Heather.”

She stopped eating and stared at him. “Are you trying to get rid of me? If you are, I can always make it easy for you.”

“I’m trying not to be selfish. And on the chance that you appreciate my judgment, I’m being as truthful as I can be.”

An expression of pain spread across her face, and she briefly closed her eyes. “Oh, Judson, I’m so sorry. I do trust you, and I trust your judgment. I’m so used to—”

“It’s all right. I imagine that in the world you work in, you always have to watch your back.”

“Yes, indeed. And look what it’s doing to me,” she said as if she’d just realized it.

“How about dessert?” he said. “I think I’ll have a slice of sour lime pie,” he added, glad to be able to change the subject. “What would you like?”

“I can’t sit here and watch you eat it, so I’ll have the same.” Suddenly, she reached across the table and covered his hand with her own. “If you can be patient, we’ll get there.” The waiter took their orders, and refreshed their water, smiled at Heather, then left the table.

“Do you mean that?” he asked her once the waiter had gone.

“I didn’t plan to say it, but it’s the truth.” She smiled. “I’ll always tell you the truth, Judson, even if it makes me look bad, and I hope I can count on the same from you.”

He enveloped her hand with his own. “Of course you can. If you never believe anything else, believe that.”

The waiter brought their dessert, and they savored it without speaking. Later, while they sat sipping espresso, she looked at him and said, “I have to thank Scott for introducing me to you. He’s anxious to find out whether we get along and whether we will see each other.”

He imagined that the facial expression he thought was a grin was more feral than friendly. “Don’t tell him a thing,” he said. “Let him worry.”

“How could you? He means well.”

“Sure he does. Jails are full of well-meaning people. It isn’t often that I’m one up on Scott, so please humor me.”

He held her hand while they walked to his car, and it felt good.

Ten minutes later, he parked in front of her building, walked around and helped her in getting out of the car and accompanied her to her apartment. She gave him her door key without his asking. He opened the door.

“May I come in for a few minutes?”

She didn’t answer, but walked in and flicked on the light.

He didn’t want to sit down and talk. They had talked during dinner. He wanted her in his arms. When he remained near the door, she turned, walked back to him and smiled.

“What’s the matter? Do you want a hug or a kiss? Which is it?”

He’d never met a woman so lacking in guile. “Both,” he said and opened his arms. She went to him with arms raised and lips slightly parted. And the feel of her warm and womanly body as she held him to her almost made him dizzy. He bent his head, brushed her lips with his own and she pulled his tongue into her mouth. He couldn’t stifle the groan that erupted from deep inside of him, and with the rush of blood to his groin preparing him for a massive erection, he tried to step back from her. But she seemed oblivious to his movement. He lifted her and set her away from him. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he said, “but I don’t want to push you too far, too fast.”

She frowned, and then she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him. “I’ve never met a man like you. I am going to thank Scott for introducing us.”

“Are the two of you close friends?”

Her eyes twinkled. “We haven’t drunk each other’s blood, but we’ve pledged to be brother and sister.”

“How is it that you were never attracted to each other?”

“My dad asked me the same question. Scott and I would kill each other. Actually, we nearly did when we first began working together. We backed off because we had to cooperate, and after a short while we realized that we’re both too similar. So we began supporting each other, and it’s been great for both of us. What time will you leave for Hagerstown tomorrow? If you need to contact a newspaper, try the Herald-Mail first.”

“Thanks. I will.’

“Don’t get your hopes up too high, Judson, and don’t be disappointed if you come back empty-handed. This is just the first try. Remember you have my support.”

“And that means everything to me. I know it’s going to be a long, hard trek, but I’m prepared for it.”

Chapter 3

Judson parked beside the Washington County Free Library at a quarter of eleven, went inside and asked the reference librarian for the microfilm room.

“If you can’t find what you’re looking for,” she said, “maybe I can help you.”

“Thank you. Where’s the reading room?”

She told him and added, “I’ll be glad to help if you think I can.”

He thanked her again and went to the microfilm room. He found the newspaper with the birth announcement that listed the family name Motens. He went to the library’s computer and began copying the names, addresses and telephone numbers for the name Moten. By the time he finished, his stomach was growling. He didn’t feel inclined to seek out the helpful librarian. He pocketed his notes and left.

Sitting in the far corner of a restaurant eating a hamburger, French fries and coleslaw, he read over the names he’d recorded. None of the names were listed in his parents’ papers, and he couldn’t interview or even hope to locate all of them. He finished his lunch, and decided to put a classified ad in the newspaper. He found the office of the Herald-Mail, placed the order and headed back to Baltimore.

When he got home shortly before six o’clock that evening, he found his answering machine blinking. “I’ll deal with that later,” he said to himself. He had to work out a plan in case no one answered his ad. Adoption papers were sealed, but there was always a way.

Suddenly, he bolted upright. The adoption papers were not among those he had found in his mother’s closet. She had stashed them somewhere else, but where? Did she have a secret hiding place? Calm down, man. As Heather said, “you’ve just started.”

He went to the refrigerator for a can of beer and took it outside on his terrace. Where could he search next if no one answered his ad? He had a sudden inspiration. The churches! Most churches kept baptismal records. He let out a deep sigh of relief, rested his feet on the edge of the ceramic flowerpot beside him and closed his eyes as a sense of peace washed over him.

He answered his cell phone. “Philips. What may I do for you?”

“This is Curtis. Is that laboratory’s attorney allowed to get in touch with me directly?”

“What? That’s a no-no. Did you happen to record it?”

“You bet I did. He wanted to know what I was prepared to settle for. I told him I’d let him know, because I wanted him to continue talking. I’ll make a copy of the tape and send it to you tomorrow by messenger.”

So they wanted to be sneaky. That only strengthened his hand. He wondered how dirty they’d get.

Two days later while Judson sat on the grass in the sculpture garden of the National Gallery, soaking up the sunshine and eating his lunch, his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the name on the ID screen, so he used his formal response.

“This is Judson Philips. How may I help you?”

“Mr. Philips, my name is Cissy Henry, and I’m from Hagerstown. I think I may have some information for you.”

He nearly choked on his food. “Are you referring to my ad in the Herald-Mail?”

“Yes, sir. My daughter-in-law told me you were asking if anybody knew Beverly Moten. Well, I used to know her, but she left here well nigh thirty years ago. Her father was my brother.”

He’d forgotten his lunch and was standing. “Do you mind if I come to see you and talk with you?”

“No. I don’t mind a bit. Nobody’s interested in what we old people have to say. Where are you, and when do you want us to talk?”

“I live in Baltimore, and I can be at your place tomorrow morning at about eleven. What’s your address?”

She gave it to him. “I know you young folks are busy, so you come anytime you want to. I’ll be right here. I can fix us a real nice lunch, and we can talk. Judson Philips, you say your name is? You come on. I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Henry. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Well now, seems to me you ought to call me Aunt Cissy. Everybody else does.”

His face broke into a smile. “Thank you, Aunt Cissy. I’m looking forward to meeting you. See you tomorrow.”

Maybe he would finally know. He told himself that because the woman knew the Motens was not reason to think she knew the circumstances of his adoption. But he couldn’t help hoping. He’d needed to know so badly and for so long.

Heather read the letter a third time. As she stared at the bold signature of the Secretary of State, she knew that her next move could determine her foreign service career. She was not going to Albania. In that post, a diplomat was no more than a special envoy, and everybody knew that. She needed to talk with someone about it, and she reasoned that it wouldn’t be fair to discuss it with Scott.

She heard a knock on her door. “Come in.”

“How’s it going?” Scott asked her. “I thought we had a lunch date. What happened?”

What else had she forgotten while she digested the letter? She picked up the letter and handed it to him. “This was not what I expected, Scott.”

He glanced over it. “You’re turning it down, of course.”

“That’s what I had in mind. My problem is how to do it. I don’t want to shoot myself in the foot.”

“You know, Pete is separating from his wife. He said a minute ago that he wants an overseas assignment, any assignment anywhere. He wants a change.”

“Goodness! Is he still in love with her?”

“Quite the contrary. They’ve been miserable for some time. Tell you what—if you want me to, I can drop a hint that he wants out of here, and you don’t want to leave. That job is not a promotion for you, and you could be stuck there for maybe four years, but at least two.”

“You can drop that hint, and I’m going to tell the Secretary that although I’m due a promotion, this doesn’t seem to me to be the one. I’ve received perfect scores on all of my evaluations, so I’ll assume that by exercising my right of refusal, I haven’t adversely affected my career.”

“Sounds good to me,” he said, “but be very careful of your choice of words. What did Judson say about this?”

“I haven’t had a chance to tell him.”

“Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

“Scott, do you mind if we cancel today? I don’t much feel like eating. I need to go someplace and blow off steam.”

“Heather, this is your first disappointment here. Let me tell you that you’ll have to learn to take the lumps and still walk as if you just won a presidential election. By tomorrow, everybody will have heard about this. Half of the staff will think you got what you deserved. The other half will know you didn’t. But not one will ever say anything to that effect. Some people are ignorant, some are cowards, and the others just don’t give a damn.” Scott turned to the door. “See you later.”

“I’d better do this before I lose my nerve.” She wrote the letter, read it once, printed it out, signed it and called for a messenger. It’s what I believe is right, and I’m going with it. I’ll take the consequences.

She’d just begun to outline a plan designed to introduce self-help programs to women in sub-Saharan Africa when her cell phone rang.

“Hello, sweetheart.” His deep velvet voice had the ability to comfort her. Somehow, hearing it made everything right. “I have the most wonderful news.”

“You found something?”

“No, but I found someone.” She listened to his tale about Cissy Henry. “That’s wonderful. Judson, I’m so happy for you. The pieces will all come together. I know they will. When are you going there?”

“Tomorrow morning. If I thought you’d be free, I’d invite you to come with me.”

“That probably wouldn’t be a good idea. She’ll speak less freely if another person is present. I have some news, too. I’ve been offered a post in Albania, and I just signed a letter turning it down. Well, not in precisely those words.”

“Congratulations. And since you don’t want the post, congratulations for having the courage to turn it down. I’ll be anxious to see you when I get back from Hagerstown tomorrow, so can we have dinner together?”

“Yes. Do you think you can come to dinner at my place? I’m a fair cook.”

“I’d love that. What should I bring? Do you have wine?”

“Yes, but bring whatever you like to drink. Seven o’clock.”

“All right. I’m…I’m anxious to see you. I’ll have to work tonight. Otherwise, I’d suggest that we get together this evening.”

“Call me and tell me good-night.”

“I’ll do that. Bye for now.”

“Bye.”

Cissy Henry stood at her front door when Judson parked in front of her house, a white, green-shuttered bungalow with a well-manicured lawn. A profusion of seasonal flowers marked the property lines.

He strode up the walk to the steps and stopped. “Come on up,” she said. “You must be Judson Philips ’cause don’t nobody around here dress up this good on a Saturday. How’d you do?”

He shook hands with her. “I’m fine, ma’am. How are you? I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your agreeing to see me.” It surprised him that she seemed so youthful and fit. He indicated as much.

“I’m eighty-four. All my life I ate right, never smoked or drank. Went to bed early, got up early and said my prayers every morning and every night. Why shouldn’t I look well?” And certainly she had her mental faculties in order, too, he observed.

“Let’s sit out on the back porch where it’s nice and cool. I don’t turn on the air conditioning till around three o’clock. Money don’t grow on trees.”

He sat beside her on the swing in the screened-in porch, and gazed at the irises, peonies, roses, daises and other flowers that beautified and perfumed the garden. “This place is enchanting,” he said.

“I’m happy here, Judson. Now, tell me what I can do for you.”

“My adoptive mother passed on about a month ago. It’s been a terrible blow to me, especially since my dad died a couple of years ago.”

Cissy’s eyebrows eased up. “Who was your dad?”

“Louis Philips. He was a wonderful father, and I still miss him.”

“I imagine you do. What do you need to know?”

“As I told you, I’m adopted. I’d like to know who my birth parents were. I never asked my parents, because I didn’t want them to think I was unhappy. I wasn’t. They gave me far more than my share. However, I need to know who I am.”

“You look like a prosperous man, and the way you talk tells me you’re educated. What kind of work do you do?”

“I’m a lawyer, and I have a degree in law from Harvard.”

“Good, then I know you’ll know how to handle what I’m going to tell you. I don’t know how it applies to you, but this is what I know about Beverly Moten. She had a baby out of wedlock when she was, oh, I don’t know, twenty-two or twenty-three. She was going around with this man, but she never married him. After she had the baby, she left the boy here with her mother and moved to Baltimore.”

“It was a boy?” She nodded. He started adding. Twenty-two or twenty-three. He was thirty-four, and his adoptive mother was fifty-seven when she died. Was that the other child? He shrugged.

“That’s not the end of it,” she went on. “When the child was about three, I guess, she married and she came back and got the child from her mama. After that, she never returned here.”

His adrenaline shot up, and he could barely manage to remain seated. “Who was the man who fathered that child?”

“Well, you know, that’s not something anybody can swear to, but I remember she was in love with the man, an architect, who designed and built the Americana Hotel. They can tell you his name. It wasn’t a common name. My daughter-in-law might remember it. I’ll recognize it if I hear it. A lot of our young girls were after him, because he was one good-looking man, tall and… If I’d a been single, I’d a gone after him, too.” She laughed. “A bit older than Beverly, but that didn’t seem to bother her.”

He wanted to know about the man’s character, in case he was on the right track. “Did he date all those girls?”

“Not to my knowledge. It looked like he was as crazy about Beverly as she was about him. Nobody ever could say why they didn’t get married. Come on in here while I get our lunch together. I hope you like home-cooked food.”

“I certainly do, and I haven’t had any since my mom got sick.” He took a bottle of perfume out of his coat pocket and gave it to her. “I didn’t know what to bring you, but I figured every woman likes this.”

Her eyes rounded to twice their size. “This woman certainly does. This is quite a gift. Thank you so much. I don’t know when I last had any perfume.” She handed him the bottle. “Would you please open it? I’ll just put on a little dab of it. I always used to put it on my handkerchief, but nowadays it’s so dear.” She put some on her index finger, sniffed and a wide smile covered her face. “This is just the kind of scent I love.”

She put the food on the kitchen table, turned on the air conditioner and handed him a face towel. “You can wash up right around there.”

Cissy said grace holding his hand and then passed him a platter that contained barbecued baby back ribs, broiled lamb chops and grilled pork loin. “Help yourself. There’s plenty more.”

His gaze took in a pan of baked corn bread, string beans, rice, sliced tomatoes and pickled beets. “I know I’m a big guy, Aunt Cissy, but this is enough food right here for six people.”

“Oh, go on. Who cooks for you?”

“I’m thinking about getting a cook, but right now, I do. I also eat out a lot.”

“And you take home a lot of pizzas and beer. Right?”

“Bad, huh?”

“Yes, sirree. Do you have a nice girl?”

“I met someone recently, and I think she may be the one. I’m not sure.”

“Of course you’re not sure if you haven’t known her longer than that. Anyway, finding the right person is part luck. What does she do?”

He told her.

“That’s a good fit for you. You willing to live wherever she goes?”

He liked that question. Aunt Cissy was a modern woman, her age notwithstanding. “If it gets to that point, we’ll have to strike a deal. I haven’t looked that far ahead.”

“Well, you better. It’s those surprises up ahead that throw a monkey wrench into the sweetest relationships. You be careful.”

“Yes, ma’am. I generally stay alert to what’s going on in my life.”

After lunch, they sat in the cool living room, and he shared with her his fondest memories of his mother.

“She raised a fine man. No matter what happens and what you find out, always remember that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’d better move on, Aunt Cissy. I want to get to the Americana Hotel. Is it far?”

“Nothing’s far here, son. Drive to the corner, turn left and drive till you see the hotel. It’s about ten blocks.”

She walked to the door with him, and he gazed down at her with mixed feelings. There were so many things he wanted to ask her that he knew she hadn’t told him, and he wanted to stay longer. But the answer he sought could be ten blocks away. It was only a slim chance, but he wanted to know for certain.

“Thanks for that wonderful lunch and for receiving me so kindly. I won’t forget it. If you need anything ever, you know how to reach me.”

“Thank you, son, and thanks for my lovely perfume.”

Fifteen minutes later, he walked into the Americana Hotel, presented his card to the receptionist and asked to speak with the manager. A short, formally dressed man appeared at once. “Is there a problem?” the manager asked him.

“No, there isn’t a problem, sir,” he said and shook hands with the manager. “I’m Judson Philips, and I wonder if you can tell me who designed and built this lovely hotel.”

The manager beamed. “It is a fine one, isn’t it? Just a minute. Have a seat.”

Judson wasn’t in the habit of perspiring so profusely, but as he waited for the manager to return, the sweat soaked his shirt in spite of the comfortable air-conditioning. The manager returned after what seemed like hours, though only twelve minutes had elapsed.

“I’m delighted to tell you, Mr. Philips, that one of Maryland’s most famous architects designed and built our hotel. His name was Fentriss Sparkman, and here is the original brochure that commemorates the dedication. I hope you will come back and stay with us very soon.”

Accepting the brochure with trembling fingers, Judson thanked the man, promised to return and headed for Baltimore. Something was missing, but he’d get to the bottom of it, no matter what. He had to go through his mother’s personal belongings. He hadn’t done it, because he hadn’t expected to find anything among her intimate things. Now, he realized that the woman he had always believed was his adoptive mother may have kept things from his father, secrets she hadn’t wanted him to know about, including the child she bore out of wedlock. And that child was most likely him.

He walked into his house ready to renew his search through his mother’s things and stopped short as if a bomb had dropped. He’d forgotten to check Fentriss Sparkman’s name with Aunt Cissy. He sat on the nearest dining room chair and telephoned her.

“Aunt Cissy, this is Judson.”

“Did you go to the hotel?”

“Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’m calling you. The man’s name is Fentriss Sparkman, and the hotel’s manager gave me a brochure that proves it. Do you recognize that name?”

“I sure do. He’s the only person I ever heard of with a first name like that one. I hope you learn something good from all this. You let me know what happens, you hear?”

“Yes, ma’am. You and I are linked from now on, Aunt Cissy.”

“You come to see me. I have a nice guest room, and you’re welcome to use it whenever you want to.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I appreciate that.”

Fentriss Sparkman. His mother had never mentioned the man to him. “I hope I don’t discover something I’d rather not know,” he said to himself and ran up the stairs to continue his search. Three hours later, tired and hungry, he looked at his watch and considered having some food delivered. He went to the phone, then suddenly remembered that he hadn’t called Heather to give her his news or started getting ready for dinner at her place.

He dashed to the bathroom, taking off his clothes as he went, got a quick shower, shaved and dressed. He had less than an hour, and he had to drive past DeLong’s Florist to get some calla lilies. He adjusted the gray-and-yellow paisley tie and checked his image in a flawless suit and light gray shirt. With no time to go to the liquor store, he chose two bottles of wine from his wine rack, locked his door and gave thanks that he’d remembered Heather had invited him to dinner at her home.

The florist had only yellow and white calla lilies, so he bought six of each and had them wrapped in clear cellophane paper tied with yellow and white ribbons. Fortunately, the building in which she lived had valet parking, and he didn’t have to waste time looking for a parking space. At three minutes of seven, he rang her doorbell. She opened the door and surprised him with a quick kiss on the mouth.

“I could get used to a greeting like that. How are you?”

“I’m fine.” She seemed to study him. “And I think you’ve got something to tell me. Is it good?”

He smiled at that evidence that she made an effort to understand him. “Yeah.” He ran his right hand over his hair. “A lot has happened.” He handed her the flowers.

“Judson, these are beautiful.” She hugged the flowers. “You’re spoiling me, and I like it. I really do.” She stepped closer to him, put her free arm around his shoulder, parted her lips and took him into her mouth.

He stopped kissing her and grinned. “Honey, you have to be careful about lighting these fires.”

“I’m not even going to pretend to know what you’re talking about. That was a sweet little kiss.”

“Yeah. If you say so. This wine isn’t cold.”

She took it from him. “I’ll chill it. Have a seat someplace.”

Heather arranged the flowers in a crystal vase and put it on the table between two silver candlesticks, gifts to herself when she moved into the apartment. She lit the twelve-inch beeswax candles, stepped back and admired the beautiful place settings.

With that setup, the food had better be good. She took the hors d’oeuvres out of the oven, placed cheese puffs, tiny quiches and grilled mini-franks on a serving dish and walked back to the living room where Judson sat on the sofa looking ill at ease. She put the platter on the coffee table. “You don’t seem comfortable. What’s the matter?”

“I’m comfortable,” he said brightly. “Too comfortable. Suppose you got an assignment to say, Luxembourg, and you were engaged to get married. What would you do?” Her lower lip dropped. He held up his hand to ward off a less than thoughtful answer. “And suppose your husband-to-be couldn’t get a job in his field in Luxembourg? What would you do?”

What a question! Heather thought. She controlled her hands before they locked to her hip bones, because she didn’t want to give the impression that his questions had surprised her.

“You have a right to know what you’d be in for if we get engaged. I’m way ahead of you, and I don’t think that scenario could sustain a marriage or even a live-in relationship. According to my dad, a man’s work, his woman and his children—in that order—define him, and he’s only happy if he finds pleasure and contentment in all three. Cheer up, and eat your hors d’oeuvres before they get cold. What would you like to drink?”

It pleased her that he smiled. “You didn’t answer my question,” he said. “But I’m also a lawyer, so I got enough out of that long reply to corner you if I ever have to. I’m driving, so I’d better stick to wine. Most any kind would be nice.”

She didn’t rush him but allowed him to take his time with telling his “good news,” because she sensed in him a new kind of peacefulness. “Let’s eat now,” she said after he finished a glass of wine and several of the hors d’oeuvres. “I hope you like what I prepared.”

He tasted the cold, sour cherry soup. “This is delicious. I have a feeling I’m going to be sorry I ate so many hors d’oeuvres with the wine.”

The meal continued with filet mignon, sautéed cremini mushrooms, asparagus and dauphin potatoes, a green salad and assorted cheeses, and ended with raspberry sauce over vanilla ice cream.

“I didn’t have time to make a complicated dessert today,” she told him.

“Please, don’t apologize, Heather. I love ice cream, and raspberries are one of my favorite fruits. This combination is delightful.”

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