Saving the world one kiss at a time

Haley Feldon’s work with the United Nations means everything to her. She cares more about social progress than filling her social calendar. But that doesn’t stop media mogul Jon Ecklund from pursuing the elegant beauty.

Jon’s used to getting what—and who—he wants. And he’s not going to let anything get in his way of knowing Haley. But pain from her past—and a surprise from her future—threaten to destroy everything they’ve started to build. Now Jon’s on a mission to open Haley’s heart…if only she’ll let him.

She put her empty glass on the grass beside her, leaned over and stroked his hair.

“I’m counting on your good judgment.”

“Be careful, Haley. I’ve made mistakes, and because I’m still human, I may make some more.”

“Not to worry,” she said, still stroking, “I’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“Yeah. Just like you did the other night when we went to dinner.” She stretched out beside him, and he needed no further invitation. For the first time, she looked up into his face while lying supine, and frissons of heat plowed through her.

“Kiss me. Open your mouth and kiss me.”

She gently pulled his tongue into her mouth and gripped his shoulders, asking for more, wanting him and relief from the tension stirring in her. He kissed her back, then stopped, took her hand and locked her fingers through his. “I haven’t felt this content in years. I love being with you, Haley, and I want us to spend as much time as possible together. Can we?”

“I enjoy being with you, Jon, but let’s take it one day at a time.”

“If that’s all you can give me now, I have to accept it. But I want more. Much more.”

GWYNNE FORSTER

is a national bestselling author of forty-four works of fiction—thirty-four romance novels and nine mainstream novels, including her latest, When the Sun Goes Down. She has won numerous awards for fiction writing, including a Gold Pen Award and an RT Book Reviews Lifetime Achievement Award, and has been inducted into Affaire de Coeur magazine’s hall of fame. A demographer by profession, she is formerly a senior United Nations officer, where she was chief officer in charge of research in Fertility and Family Planning studies. Gwynne is author of twenty-seven publications in demography. She holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees in sociology and a master’s degree in economics/demography. As an officer, first for United Nations and later for the International Planned Parenthood Federation of London, England, Gwynne traveled and/or worked in sixty-three countries. She lives in New York with her husband, who is her true soul mate.

Reckless Seduction

Gywnne Forster

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 1

Haley Feldon stepped out into the late summer sun, grateful for the trees that shaded New York City’s East Sixty-Fourth Street. She both loved and hated New York City, but if her dreams were ever to have the slightest chance of materializing, it was where she had to be.

She’d had a difficult meeting with Tom Brennan, one of her backers, that morning. The conceited old coot never missed an opportunity to remind her of his wealth or to mention his generous contributions to the numerous foundations that depended upon him and others like him to finance their philanthropic work.

As she walked swiftly down Second Avenue, Haley sighed. She hated having to work with Brennan, but their meetings were unavoidable. As founder and president of the International Institute for Social Progress (IISP), she devoted herself to projects that improved the lives of poor women and children. Her immediate goals were to improve educational opportunities for children living on reservations and to establish a program to reduce pregnancies and school dropouts among teenage girls in New York City.

She was determined to make a difference. Unfortunately, her work brought her into contact with men like Brennan, because making a difference cost money. And funding for projects like the ones she envisioned for IISP was hard to come by.

Haley glanced at her watch and saw that she had about an hour before her appointment with Nedia Edstrom, head of the United Nations Conference on Social Change. That would give her time for coffee and a few minutes to focus on the proposal that she was presenting to Nedia. Inside the United Nations Secretariat Building, she took the escalator to the second floor and walked down the heavily carpeted corridor toward the North Delegates Lounge. Walking toward her was the tall, sandy-haired man she seemed to glimpse almost every time she came into the Secretariat Building. Elegant and well-built, he exuded an aura of power, strength and pure animal magnetism.

Her response to him always astonished her. How could she react this way to a man she had not even met? Haley was sure that he had his share of female admirers, but she was definitely not going to become one of them. She vowed she wouldn’t even though, or perhaps because, he showed up regularly in her dreams and often interfered with her daytime thoughts, too. No, she didn’t fool herself. She was acutely aware of him, even if she always tried to pretend that she wasn’t. It had gotten so bad that she looked for him every time she entered the building. And she knew that she flushed whenever she saw him. What was it about him? she wondered.

Not to mention she’d caught him looking at her on numerous occasions. She’d always looked away before their gazes could connect. In spite of her natural reserve, she almost hungered to know him. Yet, because she sensed that he represented a danger to her, she usually avoided him. But she wouldn’t be able to avoid him today—not this time. Today, he was walking directly to her.

Jon Stig Ecklund leaned back in the chair in his office in the United Nations Secretariat Building. The main office of Ecklund International Syndicate, Inc. (EIS), his family’s international satellite network, occupied three floors of a large building on Madison Avenue. Jon preferred to use this smaller office at the UN when he needed privacy or solitude for his work.

He didn’t enjoy being alone, but sometimes he needed absolute quiet to hear himself think. Yet even in the solitude of this smaller office Jon was finding it hard to concentrate today. He pushed back his chair, walked out of the office and headed to the North Delegates Lounge for a drink and a break. He took the escalator to the second floor and started for the lounge. It was then that he saw her.

He had seen her at a distance so many times that he felt as if knew her. Actually, he did know her, because she had spent many hours in his dreams. Her beauty intrigued him. Her regal bearing, long jet-black hair, olive complexion and soft brown eyes bespoke of mixed heritage. And with her tall, perfectly proportioned figure and lovely face she could have been a fashion model. Yet he knew instinctively that there was more to her than beauty. He’d once seen her in the dignified Delegates Dining Room daintily plucking raspberries from her plate and eating them one by one with her fingers. He guessed that she was at once respectable and sassy. She exuded calm coolness, yet Jon wondered if she hid fiery passion beneath her cold facade. He was drawn to her like a moth to fire.

Dammit, he wanted to know her. But she never gave him the opportunity. Every time he managed to get close enough to speak to her, she bolted like a skittish colt. He was fast losing patience with that game. She was an enigma that he was going to solve…and then forget.

Haley wanted to turn around and go the other way, but it was too late. He was looking directly at her, and her usual calm deserted her. He was handsome. No, he was beautiful. And he was tall, maybe six feet four or five inches. Not many men towered over her, but his height dwarfed her five-ten frame. So this is how dainty felt, Haley thought.

He seemed to pause in his approach. Was he going to speak? She realized she’d never heard his voice. Now she was dying to know if his voice matched his smooth masculine good looks.

Jon held her gaze until he was abreast of her. “Good morning.” He said it softly, as if not to frighten her, but she didn’t respond. She saw him open his mouth, and in an act of uncharacteristic cowardliness, she glanced away. The moment passed. She wasn’t sure whether she walked faster or slower, but when she passed through the lounge and reached the coffee shop, she had strength only to find a table and sit down. She hugged her stomach, calming herself. She knew something else about him now. He had blond hair and long eyelashes that half hid a pair of piercing, fern-green eyes—beautiful eyes. She wanted to kick herself for not speaking to him.

Resuming his normally brisk stride, Jon promised himself that no matter where he saw her again or who she was with, he was going to speak to her. The thought that he would finally settle something that was definitely getting out of hand lightened his mood.

He walked on, mulling over his encounter with the woman. Who the hell was she? What was it about her, a woman of whom he knew absolutely nothing, that made him feel so empty, so lacking in something that he could not label but that was so vital it gnawed at him? He released a long sigh. He wanted her out of his thoughts, out of his mind. He didn’t need this aggravation, this teenage craving for something he shouldn’t want and couldn’t get. Having given himself that stern lecture, he quickened his steps to the lounge. He’d have a vodka.

“Haley Feldon! Haven’t seen you in ages. How’s the institute going? I heard that you’d delivered a first-class lecture down on Capitol Hill. Do you think you stand a chance of introducing some new life into the secondary school programs for Native American children on reservations? Can I get you an espresso?”

Haley’s face creased into a big smile at the sight of her old friend. “Hello, Nels. It’s good to see you. How is Isabella? Are you two still an item? And yes, I’d love an espresso.” And thank you for distracting me, bringing me back to earth.

“Say, why were you sitting with your back to the entrance? Are you hiding from someone?”

Before she could answer, she heard Nels call out to someone. “Jon Ecklund, where have you been? Come over here and join us.” Haley felt the hair prickle on the back of her neck.

“Nels Andersen, son of a gun, you’re a sight for sore ey… Well! Hello, at last.”

Haley knew who it was even before she looked up.

“Hello.” Was that dry quivering voice hers? Did they notice how it trembled?

“Have you two met?” Nels asked, rather tentatively.

“We have now,” Jon offered. “Who are you?” He looked at her intently.

“I’m Haley Feldon,” she said, extending her hand. He took it and held it, still looking at her. She felt the blood warm the skin of her face and experienced something that she had never felt before, a flash of warmth from head to foot, the heat settling in the pit of her loins. She hated that she had reacted to him that way. Withdrawing her hand, she took refuge in the lukewarm espresso. It was a mistake. Her hand shook as she raised the cup to her lips, and both men saw it.

“I’ve got exactly nine minutes to make an appointment on the twenty-second floor. It was a pleasant surprise seeing you, Nels. I wish I had more time. Perhaps we can get together for lunch one of these days. Goodbye, Mr. Ecklund.”

“Aren’t you implying that you aren’t pleased to have met me?” Jon asked, sardonically. He had the pleasure of seeing her speechless. But she quickly regained her composure, smiled rather lamely and hurriedly walked away.

“What on earth is going on between you two?” Nels wanted to know.

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing!”

“Is there anything I can do to help this ‘nothing’ along?” Nels asked. “You know I’m always willing to do anything I can for a college buddy.”

“No! If there’s anything I don’t need, Nels, it’s the kind of chaos you can create when you start your pranks. I’m not in the market for a woman. And if I was, I’d look for one a bit warmer than that porcelain Venus.”

Few people knew that second side of Nels’s personality, and most anyone would have had difficulty reconciling the boyish prankster with the suave, efficient journalist, the tough adversary that aptly characterized Nels Andersen.

Nels lifted his right shoulder in a careless shrug. “Well, at least you admit that she’s a goddess. Haley is a wonderful human being, but I thought I caught some sparks between you two.”

“Look, Nels, drop it! Just drop it, will you? A lot of things have happened since we last saw each other. My divorce is final. Karen has remarried, and I’m not looking for anybody.” No, he wasn’t looking, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t want Haley Feldon. At least he wanted to get to know her, find out whether… What the hell did he want?

Nels watched Jon carefully. There was something different there. He was guarded, where he had always been so open, direct and straightforward. He wondered about Jon’s divorce. Well, he thought, Jon had always been somewhat reticent with women, though they sure as hell liked him. Maybe someday they’d be able to talk about it. Nels considered it for a moment. He had never given any thought to pranks with Jon where women were concerned. Somewhat bemused at his thoughts, he realized that he never would. For all his apparent toughness, Jon was too vulnerable.

“Look, man, I’m inviting some of the old gang over in a couple of weeks, after I get back from my assignment in Eastern Europe. As soon as I finalize my plans, you know…guest list and all that, I’ll call you. Will you come?”

“Sure,” Jon said, frowning slightly as he gave Nels his home phone number.

Nels rose and patted Jon on the shoulder. “Let’s stay in touch, buddy,” he said softly, giving Jon his number.

“By the way, Nels, why is it that you aren’t interested in Ms. Feldon?”

Nels laughed. “It’s Dr. Feldon. I knew her when she didn’t have all of that polish,” he said, cryptically.

“What ever do you mean?”

“Well, I covered Peace Corps activities in Africa and used to see her in Kenya. She was just an idealistic kid back then. She’s still idealistic.”

“Well, she’s certainly no kid now,” Jon drawled. “See you.”

Haley fastened her seat belt and prepared for the sixteen-hour flight to Nairobi. She was pleased with the contract that she had negotiated for IISP with Nedia and had spent the past ten days developing the material for the seminars and workshops that were intended to aid the improvement of women’s health in several East African countries. This was what she had dreamed of for her institute.

Owing to the negligence of one of her senior staff members, she’d been up until two in the morning completing preparations for her trip. She’d had enough of him and intended to fire him as soon as she found a replacement. Feeling immensely relieved for having come to that decision, she signaled the stewardess and asked for a cocktail, got out a novel by her favorite writer and settled down. It would be good to see Nairobi again after five years.

At about page twenty in the book, she realized that she’d only been looking at the words while seeing the face of Jon Ecklund. Sure, he’d made an impression on her. Every time she saw him, she’d become conscious of herself as a woman. Something about him drew her like a magnet draws a nail, and she didn’t find that soothing. She didn’t intend to give another man the power to make her need him and then to humiliate her. After four years, she was still tormented by that experience. No matter how elegant her appearance, how many admiring looks she received and how successful she was professionally, she had only to remember Joshua Hines and his bigoted parents to have her self-confidence shaken and her ego shattered.

Not even the fact that Jon Ecklund seemed attracted to her helped. After all, Josh had claimed to be crazy about her. But his parents—both of whom claimed to have ancestors who came to Plymouth, Massachusetts, on the Mayflower—didn’t want him with a black woman. And for all his seemingly tough exterior, Josh proved to be as spineless as a shrimp.

How could she have been such a fool? She wished to God that she had never seen Josh. And if she could, she’d put two continents between herself and Jon Ecklund.

He isn’t my problem, I am. He probably hasn’t given me another thought, she thought to herself and smiled.

Haley’s seatmate on the London-Nairobi leg of the trip was a distinguished-looking man about fifty years old. She attempted to discourage conversation with him, but he would not be denied. When he produced pictures of his family, on whom he clearly doted, she relaxed and became friendlier. Edgar Layton was a London-based entrepreneur, movie producer and sportsman who knew his way around East Africa and a good deal of the rest of the world. He and his family would be spending the winter at their home in Nairobi. When he learned of Haley’s mission, he assured her that she had only to call his Nairobi office and he would arrange for as much press coverage as she needed and introduce her to any official who could make her work easier.

Layton proved to be as good as his word. And when Haley’s local counterpart failed to keep the first day’s appointment, leaving her effectively stranded, she called him and, within an hour, was able to begin her work. He also invited her to dinner at his home the following evening.

She dressed for the dinner in pink silk slacks and a shirt of matching fabric and color. Layton had said that dining tended to be casual. She found there a very congenial group of expatriates, including Layton’s American-born wife, whom she liked immediately. But the surprise, and she wasn’t sure whether it was a welcome one, was meeting Ian MacKenlin, head of Ecklund International Syndicate’s regional bureau. Dear God. She was thousands of miles from him, but she hadn’t escaped him. When Ian learned of her project, he let her know at once that EIS was at her disposal for press and publicity. What would he say if he knew that she couldn’t get his boss out of her head?

Jon stopped by Ida’s Gourmet Takeout on First Avenue, bought his dinner and headed home. He wanted to catch the seven o’clock international news roundup on EIS TV. He set the containers of crab cakes, red potato salad with dill and sour cream and green beans with butter-almond sauce on his coffee table, opened a can of beer, kicked off his shoes and settled in for dinner and news. He couldn’t believe his eyes when Haley appeared on his screen, explaining the importance of diet, clean water, sanitation and prenatal care for pregnant women. He listened spellbound while she outlined a number of simple and inexpensive measures that would reduce the high risk of childbirth for East African women. And he learned that she would spend two weeks there training social and health workers.

Well, well, he thought, so Dr. Feldon knew her stuff. And she looked damned good on camera, too. She wore that shade of pink well, but to his taste that color was too virginal. The clip was short, but he supposed Ian gave her as much time as he could. He’d like to know more about her, and he made a mental note to call her office the next day.

Amy, Haley’s secretary, was too delighted to outline Haley’s mission for Jon. It didn’t escape him that, given the slightest bit of encouragement, she would have produced a litany of her boss’s virtues. As it was, she didn’t use much self-restraint, informing him that Haley was successful because she devoted all of her time to work and practically none to social life and relaxation. Jon wondered why she needed to tell him that. He respected intelligence and hard work in anybody, but he’d never admired workaholics. Somehow he didn’t think that Haley Feldon’s life was as unbalanced as her secretary’s description suggested. He didn’t question his pleasure at learning that Haley evidently wasn’t spending a lot of time with a man.

Nels paced the balcony of his river view apartment on the Upper East Side. Where were they? He’d gone to considerable inconvenience to arrange an opportunity for Jon and Haley to get together in circumstances more conducive to developing a friendship than chance encounters at the United Nations coffee shop. A glance at his watch told him that it was after nine o’clock. Both were usually good as their word. At last, the doorbell rang. He went to the door, opened it and he watched Haley enter. She looked great as usual. She had changed since they knew each other years earlier, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. Was it polish or sadness?

“There you are,” he beamed. “Come over here. I want you to meet some friends.” He hadn’t meant for Art Chasen to be the first person she met there. Art was definitely not the man you introduced to your sister or to any woman you admired. He needn’t have worried. Haley appraised Art coolly, politely, but kept walking.

“I can see that you’ve grown up,” he told her with brotherly affection. “You couldn’t have dusted Art off more effectively if you had used a chamois.”

“Nels, I don’t play games with men. I want everything up front. It’s easier that way, and one is less likely to get hurt.”

“Someone hurt you, Haley?” Nels regarded her closely. Was he doing the right thing, getting these two wounded doves together?

“Let us just say that I have learned the value of caution,” she said.

“Caution about what?” Haley pivoted around at the sound of Jon’s voice. Why hadn’t she suspected that Nels would invite him? She wasn’t prepared for this. Why was she lying to herself? She was prepared for it. Hadn’t she changed dresses three times before settling on a figure-revealing burnt-orange silk shift, hoping that Jon would be there?

Neither she nor Nels answered.

“My, but you are elegant, as usual,” Jon added. “You’re very lovely tonight, Dr. Feldon.”

“Thank you, and please call me Haley. Dr. Feldon is so formal and seems out of place at the party of a mutual friend.”

“I’ll let you two get better acquainted,” Nels said and walked away. There was a moment of awkward silence.

“Will you call me Jon?”

Haley was startled by the question. Even so, she decided that she liked his voice. Deep and resonant, it befitted the big man that he was, and like the rest of him, it had nothing to spare… Crisp, with just a touch of lilt. He wore a dark gray suit, pale gray on gray silk shirt and a yellow tie almost the color of his hair. She looked at him. He stood no more than an inch taller than Nels, yet beside him, she felt small and feminine. Nels made her feel nothing but friendship.

Her gaze roamed over the lean, beautifully structured form of him, lingering on his muscular thighs, his broad shoulders and, finally, lifting to his mouth. Dear Lord. His mouth! It was the most sensuous thing she had ever seen. Unable to stop herself, she finally, if unwillingly, looked into his fern-green eyes and gasped, audibly. Those green eyes blazed with blatant desire, obviously triggered by her appraisal of him. She looked first at the floor and then toward the ceiling—anyplace but at him.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, attempting to put her at ease.

“No, I haven’t. Thank you.”

Splaying his fingers at her lower back, he guided her to the buffet table of hors d’oeuvres. Somewhat wobbly from their visual caress, she was grateful for his support. He handed her a finger sandwich of smoked salmon, cream cheese and dill on pumpernickel and seemed fascinated as she managed to nibble it without touching her lips. He dipped a crab claw in some pink dressing and then into his mouth.

“Mmm, but this is good,” he said gazing at her. He cleaned his top lip with the tip of his tongue. She knew he hadn’t meant to be provocative, but that gesture was the epitome of provocation.

She stared at him. Was his every move a sexual innuendo? Maybe she was just reading sensuality into it. In all her twenty-eight years, she had never responded to a man this way. She probably didn’t even know what a woman’s response to a man was supposed to be. Lord knows, her one short abysmal experience with Joshua had been devastating.

“The annual Second Avenue festival starts Friday. Have you ever been?” At this point, she would’ve said anything to change the focus of her unruly thoughts.

“No. Why?” he asked.

“You seem to enjoy eating, and some of the food at that festival is so fantastic that I just throw caution to the four winds, forget the guilt and dig in.”

Jon sensed that she wanted to find neutral ground, that the electricity passing between them had made her uneasy. But he’d be damned if he was going to chitchat about something so banal as a street fair. He’d choose his own safe topic.

“You were great on camera,” he said. “You looked good, too. After I recovered from the surprise of seeing you, I listened to what you had to say. Your message was impressive. If you ever want to change careers, I hope you’ll consider EIS. Believe me, the door is open.”

She made no effort to hide her pleasure at his remarks. “Thank you,” she said, simply. “I was a little nervous, as I’d had less than an hour’s notice that my talk would be televised. And I was excited when I realized that it would be broadcast to the States.” And that it was your network and that you would probably see me, she added silently.

“What do you think of Ian MacKenlin?” Now, why had he asked that? What could she think? Ian was competent and always did his job well. He was also hell with women or had been before he married the year before. What was it to him, anyway? What she did was her business. He made an effort to straighten out his mind and get it going in the right direction. He hardly knew this woman, and it was foolish to be thinking about what man she’d seen or hadn’t seen, liked or hadn’t liked. “Did he, uh, show you around, some sightseeing, that sort of thing?” He winced at his own transparency.

“Why? Is that company policy?”

“Well, for someone who’s never been to the place before…” He stopped himself. He wouldn’t continue that inane conversation. And what she did, he reminded himself again, was her business. Still…

“Mr. MacKenlin introduced me to his wife, who took me shopping in the local marketplace and on home to dinner with them. It was a wonderful evening, and I’m hoping that she and I will remain friends, even over long distance.” She wondered why Jon Ecklund was asking her about MacKenlin. Could he possibly care who she was with? Her mind wondered on. She’d bet her PhD that Jon Ecklund was a thorough man. Thinking that if he made love to a woman, he’d do a man’s job of it, she felt her mouth go dry and her face heat up. She tried not to look at him, but her eyes disobeyed her, and she stared into those fern-green pools of sensuality. God help her, she didn’t want this.

“Do you like music?” he asked, bringing her out of her reverie.

“Yes,” she said. He had rescued her again. “I like the classics, especially Mozart, most of Puccini’s operas, blues and classical jazz. I love jazz.”

He listened to her low, soft voice. It warmed him. Yes, just being with her warmed him. Maybe she wasn’t as cold as she always looked. He took her hand, and although she offered no objection, he sensed the tension in her.

“Will you dance with me?” He wanted her in his arms. He knew that he should go slowly, but he couldn’t. His instinct told him that he was vulnerable to her, but he pushed the warning aside. “Come with me,” he said softly, her hand still wrapped in his. She said nothing and didn’t remove her hand, but she went with him.

Nels had converted the dining room for dancing, and several couples were on the floor. As the band began to play “If I Loved You” from Nels’s sound system, he turned to her and opened his arms. She walked into them. For seconds, they didn’t move. Then he began a slow two-step. Though she was tall, at least five feet ten inches, he had to bend a little. She reached up and put her arms around his neck, as if in an embrace and, as he moved, she began to sing the words in a sweet, sultry contralto. She had him spellbound. Her beautiful voice reached into his heart and grabbed him, and her soft body molded perfectly to his. He knew he should put on the brakes, but he wanted more. He didn’t know where it would lead, but he wanted to know her, all of her.

They realized that the music had stopped and that they still held each other.

“You must be a magician.”

“Who, me?” He couldn’t believe that anyone would describe him in that manner.

“Yes, you,” she bantered. “You’ve cast a spell on me. I don’t hug strange men,” she continued, laughing. He grinned. Then he laughed a clear, soul-cleansing laugh.

She stared at him, captivated. “You ought to laugh all the time,” she blurted out. “You’re very attractive when you laugh.”

He stopped laughing and just looked at her. Was she making a pass at him? She was dead serious. She thought he was good looking, at least when he laughed.

“Keep me happy, and I’ll laugh all you want.”

She didn’t respond.

“I was jesting, Haley, I don’t mean to step out of line with you,” he said softly.

“Step out of line? I thought you were being witty. What does it take to keep you happy? I can imagine that you don’t want for the company of beautiful women.” They walked off the floor, but the closeness that they had felt was gone.

He thought for a moment. He wanted to be truthful without seeming arrogant. “Beautiful, sophisticated women are not what it takes to make me happy or, for that matter, even to alleviate boredom.”

When she didn’t respond, he asked himself how they had gotten into something that personal. She had been teasing, and his response had been way too serious.

Nels rescued them. “I see you two have been getting acquainted. Supper is being served. Come on back in the kitchen. I’ve set a table for the three of us back there.”

“Are you deserting your other guests, Nels?” Haley wanted to know.

Nels grinned, effectively admitting that he was matchmaking. “The only guests of importance are right here with me. I see the rest of them as often as I like. Let’s plan a time when we can get together, Jon. I want to know what you’ve been doing these past five years.”

“Okay, we’ll plan something.” They bantered and joked as if they had always been a threesome. When they’d finished the roasted pheasant, grilled mushrooms and steamed artichokes, they had a green salad and Blue Stilton cheese.

Haley leaned back and sighed. “Nels, if I had a butler, I’d want you to train him. You’re the perfect host.”

“He is, if he happens to want to pick your brain, like now,” Jon observed.

After raspberry sherbet and coffee, Jon stood. “It’s time to call this wonderful evening to a halt. May I see you home, Haley?”

“Oh, I live way over on the west side.”

“Where on the west side?” Jon asked her.

“Well, Riverside Drive. That’s probably out of your way.” It was twenty-five blocks out of his way, if he was concerned with distance. But his instincts told him that it was the most direct route to where he wanted to be.

“No, it isn’t out of my way. I’ll give you a call, Nels.”

Haley hugged Nels and thanked him for the party, and it annoyed Jon that she put her arms around Nels and kissed him on the cheek. He refused to ask himself why he should get sore about a thing like that.

“Shape up, man,” he said to himself. She didn’t belong to him and never would. What had he been thinking all evening, anyway? As they reached the elevator, he felt himself withdrawing.

They were silent as the elevator descended the twenty-two floors to the lobby. She didn’t look at Jon, but he looked at her. Why hadn’t he told Nels that he’d be busy? He’d had a suspicion that she would be there. Damn, he’d wanted her to be there, had wanted to see her again. He knew that she sensed his withdrawal and was hurt by it, but he made no move to bridge the chasm that he had deliberately erected between them. He was never going to give another woman the opportunity to crush him—and that included the elegant Dr. Feldon.

As they reached the street, Haley sighted a taxi, flagged it and reached for its door.

“Now, wait a minute, here. I told you that I would see you home.”

“No, thank you. I am perfectly capable of seeing myself safely home, and I won’t have to contend with any lightning fast mood changes, since I don’t have them.” She closed the door and gave the cabbie her address. The taxi moved away from the curb, leaving a stunned Jon staring at its taillights. No goodbye, no see you, no nothing. Well, what should he have expected?

“You young people are always quarreling. Now, me and my Beth, we never had a cross word from the time we met, and we’ve been married forty-three years. Soon as I set eyes on ’er, I knew she was for me. Your man seemed like a nice one,” the cabbie said. “What’s the problem? Think you two can work it out?”

Haley blew out a long breath. “The trouble with him is that he goes from tepid to hot to cold in a couple of minutes, and I like dependable personalities and stability in my life. Anyway, he isn’t my man.”

“From what you just said, I can tell he’s ’bout hooked. You listen to me, here. When a man acts like that, he’s interested—don’t want to be and fast losing the battle. You’ll see. Well, here ya are, little lady. That’s thirteen-eighty. Mark my word, you ain’t seen the last of that one.”

Haley leaned back in her desk chair and let her gaze sweep the autumn colors that beautified her office. She’d been in that rut ever since Nels’s party. Three weeks down the drain. If she didn’t get that proposal written, she could just forget about the health education program for reservation children. She swore vehemently. Why couldn’t she get Jon Ecklund out of her head? She couldn’t think of anything except the way she’d felt in his arms when he held her and danced with her. She’d felt his masculine strength, the force of his personality and his barely controlled passion. She knew he wanted her, and she also knew that something restrained him. She told herself that it was best to forget about him. Come hell or high water, she would.

The ring of the telephone invaded her thoughts. “Yes, Amy?” Amy had been her secretary since the doors of IISP first opened. The stunning fifty-year-old redheaded grandmother had a husband who had practically worshipped her for 28 years. She was fiercely loyal to Haley.

“Mr. Andersen. Can you take it?”

“Hello, Nels. What can I do for you?”

“Well, you can begin by being less officious. What in heaven’s name have you done to Jon? He came over yesterday, asking all kinds of questions about you. But he didn’t want any answers. I think he just wanted to get tanked, and believe me, he got tanked. And he didn’t even get high once when we were in college. I still can’t believe he did what I saw him do yesterday.”

“You were in college with him?”

“Yeah. We were roommates and best friends for four years as undergraduates and two years in graduate school. We both got degrees in journalism. Haley, Jon is about the finest man I have ever met. If I had a sister, I would do my best to make him my brother-in-law. He’s straight. And you’ve got him spinning. We’ve got to talk about this.”

“Nels, I’ll talk about anything you want after I finish this grant proposal. I am trying to get funding for a project to improve health education among reservation kids in the first through ninth grades.”

“Are we speaking every kid on every reservation?”

“No, I’m just going to try two or three pilot projects, just to demonstrate what can be done with a small investment.”

“Are you going to include the Comanche, since they’re your own people?”

“Nels, the Comanche do not live on a reservation, though most of us are settled out in Oklahoma.”

“Haley, I’m not about to go into the geography of the Native Americans right now. I want to talk to you about Jon.”

“Nels, give me a break. I don’t want to talk about Jon Ecklund. Period. That man is the reason why I’m struggling with this proposal and getting nowhere.”

“Why, what did he do?”

“Nothing” was the nettled response. She said goodbye and placed the phone in its cradle. It was enough to have to think about the man; she’d be damned if she was going to spend the afternoon talking about him. Besides, anybody with sense could see that Jon Ecklund was more than man enough to fight his own battles and win his own wars.

What I need, she thought, after a moment of reflection, is better information about the schools on these reservations. She punched the intercom button. “Amy, please tell Spencer that I want to see him now.”

“Right, Haley.”

“Spencer, I want a report on the national ranking of primary and secondary students attending school on these three reservations—students per teacher, average attendance and annual education expenditure per student. And I want it by ten o’clock tomorrow morning.”

“You don’t want much,” a chastened Spencer observed.

“No, I don’t. See you at ten o’clock in the morning.” As Spencer walked out, it occurred to her that she would probably fire him within the next six months. His arrogance was becoming intolerable.

Maybe she should make on-site visits to the schools, using Spencer’s report as preparatory material. Where was she going to get all of this time? Her mother might have some ideas. Haley telephoned her in Washington, and indeed she did. Gale Feldon had taken early retirement from her university post as professor of history, but retirement didn’t sit well with her. Haley wasn’t surprised when her mother offered to make the trip out to Oklahoma and undertake an on-site investigation. Unlike her daughter, Gale understood and spoke the language and had good contacts among her own people. That was all the entrée she would need to speak to the neighboring tribes. They agreed that she and Gale would leave Wednesday morning, carrying Spencer’s report and a consultant’s contract from IISP. Haley would visit schools of the other two tribes.

Haley was back in her office the following Monday morning with everything she needed for the proposal. Gale Feldon’s highly professional report awaited her. Now, she only had to put it together and polish it off. “Yes, Amy.”

“Mr. Ecklund. He’s called half a dozen times since you left on Wednesday. I left the notes on your desk.”

“Thanks, I’ll take the call. Hello, Jon.”

“Hello, Haley.” She had forgotten the beauty of his deep, velvet baritone. It warmed her all over. It soothed her, wrapped her up in warm contentment.

“Haley, would you have dinner with me tonight? I want to see you again. Something went wrong between us. Will you please let me clear it up?”

“Jon, I’m terribly busy. I’m sorry.”

“Just like that? But you will eat, won’t you? I know that I am responsible for the hostility that you must feel toward me, but—”

She interrupted him. It wasn’t exactly hostility that she felt toward him, but he had hurt her, and she didn’t want to expose herself to any more hurt from him.

“I do not feel hostile toward you. I told you. I’m busy. I have to finish a proposal.”

“All right. When will you have dinner with me?”

“If I agree to have dinner with you, are you sure you won’t change your mind, lose your appetite, get an urgent call to leave town or something?”

“I deserve that.”

“My, my, such humility. I have to get back to work now. Goodbye.” She hung up.

“Amy, come in and take a letter, please.” Amy’s pleasant smile disappeared abruptly as she walked into the office, and from her demeanor, Haley knew that Amy had detected her distress.

“This is to the Brayton-Rogers Foundation. The usual salutation. I am writing to request your support of educa…” She couldn’t stop the tremors in her voice. Horrified, Amy moved forward to comfort her, but embarrassed, Haley stepped away from the desk.

“Amy, please excuse me for a few minutes.”

“But, Haley—”

“I’ll be fine. Please, Amy.”

Amy left. Haley went into her private bathroom and calmed herself. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Jon, only to preserve her sanity. How must he feel? She had never hung up on anybody, not even people whom she disliked. Why had she reacted so harshly?

When she had regained composure, she acknowledged to herself that she should apologize to Jon. After looking through her personal address book, she dialed a number from it. Nels answered on the first ring.

“Haley here. Can you give me Jon’s telephone number?”

“Home or office?”

“Wherever he’s likely to be right now.”

He gave her both. “Haley, what is going on?”

She thought for a moment. “Nels, I really don’t know. Please be a friend, and don’t ask anything of me just now.”

“Alright, love, but be careful. He’s had a few serious wounds. Best of luck.”

I’ve had some bad scratches myself, she thought, as she dialed Jon’s number.

“Ecklund.” He couldn’t know that the sound of his voice disarmed her.

“Yes.” He spoke sharply.

“Jon, this is Haley.”

“Yes, Haley? I was leaving my office when the phone rang. What is it?”

“I’m extremely sorry about my rudeness.” She realized she sounded stiff and formal. “I…I just panicked. I’ve never done such a thing before.”

“Is the fact that you’ve given me this singular honor supposed to soothe my ego?” he asked, his tone as bitter as his words.

“Please don’t hold it against me.”

“What prompted it, Haley? Frankly, I was shocked.”

He wasn’t going to help, and she didn’t blame him. “I called because I would never deliberately attempt to hurt you. I confess that my reaction to you confuses me.”

“Why should you panic? Because you’re accustomed to being in control, and you’re not? Well, neither one of us is. Look, I’d settle for some honesty between us. You were honest when you danced with me that night at Nels’s party. But because I didn’t know where I was headed and showed it, I earned your displeasure and perhaps your distrust. I called you today to put it right. The ball is in your court now. I want to know you better, but crawling is not something that I do.”

“We could have dinner together tomorrow night.” Had she said that? She knew that she would regret it. She could never be indifferent to this man. And yet she could not—would not—open herself to the possibility of another demoralizing intimacy.

“What about that urgent proposal?”

“Dinner with you may be just what’s needed to expedite it,” she said, cryptically.

Jon pondered that for a bit.

“I’ll call for you at seven-thirty.” She hadn’t given him her address, but he’d get it just like she got his telephone number—from Nels.

He leaned forward, elbows on his desk, hands together and fingers spread pyramid fashion. Why had he agreed to that date? When he’d heard her voice, he’d felt a yearning for her that he hadn’t had for a woman in years. He’d been alone by choice for five years, forcing himself not to want, not to need. But she made him want, made him need, made him ache. He hungered for her. He’d suspected that her cool composure was a farce, a facade, a cover for the softness that she had unwittingly displayed in unguarded moments when they danced.

One thing was certain: Haley Feldon did not want to be soft or passionate. She was trying to project an image of being cool, tough and unattainable. He’d have dinner with her, yes, but he’d be damned if he was going to be sucked into a quicksand of emotion.

He closed his eyes, and the vision of her floated before him. He could see her doe-soft, beguiling brown eyes, and he shuddered. Hell, what he needed was fifty laps in his upstate pool.

“Ecklund, you’re losing it,” he said aloud. But his spirits buoyed for reasons that he didn’t bother to examine. He left his office whistling “If I Loved You.”

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