The Gift of Happiness Read online

  He laughed outright. “Come on, sweetheart, describe this menacing character to me and get him out of your mind once and for all,” he coaxed, his face open and relaxed. She caught the look in his eyes and started. Those eyes were anything but relaxed, and she must have stared too hard, because he lowered them instantly. “Out with it, Katie-bug.”

  She dispelled her uneasy feelings with a shrug, and started to describe the man to Luke. “Well, he was dark—not as dark as you, mind, but more in a brown sort of way. He looked pretty big; when I bumped into him, it felt like I was running into a brick wall! His nose was a little battered-looking, like he’d been caught between a rock and a hard place, or should I say hard fist? He had a rather tough expression that could give you the shivers if you met him in a dark alley and you had something that he wanted.” Her voice trailed away.

  “Observant chit, aren’t you?” remarked Luke easily. “He must’ve made an impression.”

  “It’s just”—she looked troubled—“that I feel like I’ve seen him before, but can’t quite remember where… Oh, forget it! Here comes our waiter. What are you going to have?”

  After they had ordered, both relaxed with drinks. His was a whiskey, and she sipped at a mixed fruit drink that was filled with crushed ice. “You haven’t been much from the house this last week, have you, poor Katie-bug?” Luke asked her sympathetically after taking a sip from his glass. When she looked into his eyes from over the rim of her own glass, she saw again that peculiar flash in them that made her wonder again at his strange, concealed intensity, but it was soon forgotten and she answered his light question easily.

  “No, the only place I’ve been is in the back yard with Oliver,” she said, shaking her bright head at him in sadness. “And, of course, the walks I’ve taken with you. It’s been really nice, though. I have had the time to think, which I really needed. The weather’s been so bad that I haven’t had the least desire to play tennis! Do you play?” At his nod, she exclaimed excitedly, “Why, splendid! You and I can play a few sets some time. I’m shockingly out of practice.”

  “Oh, no,” was his disappointing response. “I’ve heard about you. You play to kill. I don’t think that I want to face such a ferocious opponent. You might hurt me.”

  “Why, you wet noodle!” she expostulated with disgust. “I wouldn’t have credited you with such a timid outlook on life. You have very probably damaged my opinion of you beyond repair!” He smilingly retorted to that, and she stared at him, not bothering to answer for a minute. Then she said, “You really wouldn’t play with me?”

  “Of course I will!” he assured her. “I’m actually considered not so bad at the game myself!”

  “At which remark I gather you play like the devil!” she concluded laughingly. The waiter interrupted their relaxed volley of insults as he served them the first course of what ended up being an excellent meal. After cheese and coffee, he asked her if she felt like working off the extensive damage she’d inflicted on her wand-like figure to which she remarked conversationally that she did, providing he was sure that he was up to such strenuous ventures. They left the restaurant in high good humor, to go to an exclusive club that he knew about but she’d never heard of, just north of Frankfort. She was pleasurably surprised to find the place well decorated and subdued in its lighting, and amazingly crowded for a Thursday evening.

  “This place is popular,” she murmured in his ear, as he guided her to an empty spot with a small table to one corner, his arm holding her close.

  He replied, “Very. They have excellent entertainment here, and always engage fine musicians, whatever the particular musical style. There should be good dancing later on. Look, here comes the singer now.”

  And so she sat back to enjoy sitting in the curve of Luke’s warm, encircling arm, and they spent a happy half hour listening to the high-quality music. The woman who had come out on the small stage was not quite young but very beautiful, and she had a fine, carrying, strong voice which Katherine found herself enjoying immensely.

  There was a bad moment, when she sat forward, her eyes searching the surrounding crowd intently, her face white and strained.

  “What is it?” he asked sharply, moving forward too and gazing at her face with concern. “Kate, love, what’s wrong?” She stared into his gaze, troubled, and shook her head.

  “It’s stupid!” He insisted however, and she murmured, feeling weak, “Really, Luke, it’s utter nonsense! I—It’s just that I thought that I had seen that fellow again, over by the door. No, don’t bother to look; whoever it really was, he’s gone now. Please! Let’s just change the subject, all right?” And with that, she refused to talk of it again that evening.

  Later on, there was some dancing, and she was greatly pleased to find Luke an excellent partner for most dance styles, the only kind of dancing he refused being the really hard-paced, solitary gyrations that accompanied impossibly fast and loud music. It was the type, he said, that left him feeling as if he’d jumped around on a pogo stick for half an hour and was still bouncing about in a delayed reaction. At this, she had laughingly to sit out with him, which she certainly didn’t mind—and she refused any invitations to walk out on the dance floor with other men although she was particularly good at that type of dancing herself.

  The best part, she felt dreamily, as she put her head down on a very strong and receptive shoulder, was this: the slow, languorous dancing, with his arms around her holding her close, and the lights down low. His head was bent, and he had his face in her sweet-smelling hair. With a sigh of pure bliss, she closed her eyes and snuggled closer, feeling his arms tighten in response. She could feel the gentle rubbing of his thighs and the easy movement of his hips as they both swayed slightly, barely moving at all, merely using the chance to get close to each other. When the music stopped and the lights began to come up slowly, he whispered in her ear, “Come on, love. Open your eyes. It’s time for us to go now.”

  She murmured, not lifting her head, “But this feels so good, Luke. Just let me have a nice little nap here, and I’ll be ready to go home in a minute—ouch! All right, I’m ready, I’m ready! Did you have to pinch?”

  His only response was an absent-minded smile, and they were both silent as he contrived to negotiate a path through the door among the closely packed people. She collected Jana’s coat at the door, and they left. She was glad of the coat when the cool, crisp air hit her exposed throat and legs. Luke turned the car’s heater on when he started up, and soon the interior was cozy and refreshingly quiet after the bustle of the crowded nightclub. She fell asleep on the way home, after staring at Luke’s strong profile a good portion of the way.

  A light touch against her cheek and the draught of cold air had her opening her eyes to smile at him sleepily. The hand on her cheek stilled for a moment, and then was removed. He was a black silhouette against the light from the outside porch. “Katie, you wouldn’t like it if I let you stay in that uncomfortable position all night,” he whispered quietly, and she stirred with reluctance.

  “I know,” she murmured. “I’m coming.” She slid her legs out and stood up, into his arms. He held her for a long moment, and then let her go.

  “I’ve got to put the car in the garage,” he said, handing her a key. “That’s to the front door—which reminds me. I’ll have to get one for you to keep. Go on in, Katie-bug.”

  She lingered. “Would you like some coffee?” she offered. “I’ll be glad to make some for both of us.”

  “Sure. Now hurry on in, and don’t lock the door behind you! It’s too cold for long conversations in that flimsy dress. Hurry up!” In spite of the fur coat that she wore over her shoulders, she felt a distinct chill as a breeze hit her exposed legs.

  Two mugs were steaming and ready by the time he entered the kitchen, his hair tousled from the wind about his square, well-formed features. A sleepy Oliver sniffed half-heartedly at his heels for a few moments before returning to the big cardboard box, which was stuffed with an old blanket and t
hree cats, all of whom were sound asleep, supremely unconcerned at the various goings-on of the people they lived with. One did yawn hugely, showing a great set of very sharp-looking white teeth and a pointed little pink tongue, but no one noticed and the sleek little head was soon nestled back on curled furry paws.

  “That was quick,” Luke commented, as he picked up the mug and sipped at it appreciatively. “This is just right.”

  She was seated at the table, minus her pretty shoes, which she had left at the foot of the stairs for later retrieval. “Mmm,” she replied, setting down her own mug. “I didn’t bother to heat the water to an undrinkable temperature.” She looked at her hands. “Thank you for a wonderful evening, Luke, I loved every minute of it.”

  He was smiling a little, and his eyes were soft as he regarded her over the rim of his mug. “I enjoyed it, too. We’ll do it again soon, all right?”

  She nodded, flushing slightly. “I’d like that.” He picked up her cup and took it over with his own empty one, depositing them for future washing, and then turned back.

  “I’ll walk you to your room,” he said softly. “Come on!” She stood readily, and they walked slowly, arm in arm through the downstairs hall, stopping only for her to pick up her discarded shoes and dangle them from one hand. Neither spoke; theirs had been an evening of conversation, and further speech seemed unnecessary.

  At the top of the stairs, in front of her bedroom door, he stopped and touched her just once with a quick finger. His lips formed the smiling, silent words, “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow in the evening as I’m sure you will want to sleep in,” and he started to walk away from her, but he was stopped by her sudden detaining hand on his sleeve. He looked back, this time unsmilingly, and it took all her courage to drop her dangling shoes and go to him. She stood on tiptoe and put her two cold hands behind his neck. He did nothing to assist her, and it was she who had to gently apply pressure to bring his head down far enough so that she could plant a careful, lingering kiss on his warm lips.

  That was enough to make him move, as quickly and as suddenly as she had moved to detain him, and he swept her into his arms for a crushing hug and a deep, searching kiss to which she responded wholeheartedly. This had been, after all, what she had wanted ever since the kiss from the night before. This time, she was not startled into any undue alarm. This time, it was he who broke away from the long kiss. He raised his head as if coming up for air, and then put his lips close to her ear, giving a quick kiss to that curving shell. “I made you a promise last night that I didn’t keep very well,” he whispered. She shook her head vehemently, causing him to start back away from her ear.

  “I acted stupidly last night,” she whispered back, and smiled into his shadowed eyes. “I wanted you to kiss me tonight.” Planting a kiss on her finger, she carried it to his straight lips and was rewarded with a gently planted kiss in the same spot. His arms loosened, and he stepped back. With a quick and suddenly shy smile, she backed away and went into her bedroom for the night.

  Her newly opened eyes caught the pale gleam of the fresh, early day. Her clock said exactly five minutes to six, and she slid out of bed to swing her hair back from her face and pad over to the wardrobe, drawing out her silk dressing gown and belting it firmly about her. She was a bit surprised to find herself so wide awake after getting to bed around two in the morning, but she hadn’t slept well all night and had awoken several times in the course of her sleep. One of her dreams, in which Luke figured prominently, had her wondering if he was awake yet or not. She opened her door and went downstairs, finding the kitchen dark and the front hall shadowed. Apparently no one else was up yet. Luke, she surmised, had most likely decided to catch an extra half hour of sleep before a full day’s work. Turning on the overhead kitchen light, she moved around quickly and prepared a full pot of coffee to brew. After that, she rummaged around for a tray and set it with one plate and silverware and two mugs. Then from the refrigerator she took two eggs and the wrapped package of bacon. While the bacon sizzled and the eggs slowly poached, she popped in bread to toast. Rescuing the bacon before it became too brown, she added the poached eggs on top of the buttered toast and covered the whole plate with a lid. The coffee was brewed and she poured two cups, adding to one enough cream for herself and to the other Luke’s habitual teaspoonful of sugar.

  Then, treading the stairs as carefully as she could, she traveled down the hall to the end door which was closed and opened it silently. What she saw made her nearly lose courage and take the breakfast back downstairs, for Luke was sprawled across the huge double bed, his chest bare and the golden skin rising and falling regularly. One arm encircled a pillow, and the other was flung straight out. About his hips was haphazardly strewn the top sheet, the only cover he was using. She saw the quilted bedspread kicked into a humped-up mess at the foot of the bed, and putting down the laden tray, she went forward to take it and pull it up to his chest, for she suspected that he didn’t have anything on under the sheet. When she felt a little better with him covered up, she returned for the tray and set it on the bedside table. A quick look showed Luke’s usually stern-looking countenance quite softened in sleep. He looked years younger with his hair tousled and a darkened chin from the stubble of an overnight beard. Her eyes traced the pattern of chest hairs as they swirled up and out from the middle, and she saw the wide, muscled strength in the rise and fall from his breathing. The lean, graceful fingers from the out flung arm curled up. She stuck out her own slim forefinger and inserted it into the half-covered palm of his upturned hand, tickling gently. Her eyes were on his face and when he opened his eyes to stare into her own, with no change of expression nor any other sign of having wakened, she found herself drinking in the soft, brilliant glow from those eyes. As she became aware of how she must look to him, with her long hair tumbled down her back and her dressing gown belted carelessly about her, and especially the open, expressive look that must be in her eyes, she started to straighten up from her bent position and would have withdrawn her finger from the middle of his palm, but his hand tightened fast and she was imprisoned. He smiled at her, and the tenderness on his face together with the dark glow deep in his eyes had her sitting quite hard on the side of the bed, her knees feeling weak.

  “I smell coffee,” he murmured sleepily, his own eyes traveling over her as if he could not see enough. His gaze moved to the table holding the laden tray, his finely curved nostrils quivering slightly. “…and—bacon? Did you fix me breakfast, Katie-bug?”

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Yes, I did, and the eggs are poached just right, so I suggest that you hurry and eat them before it all cools.” He obligingly started to slide up into a sitting position, and as the covers slid down his chest and toward his hips, she averted her gaze and said jerkily, “I’ll be going now. Enjoy it.” She started to her feet to make good her statement, but again was thwarted by the quick grasp he laid on her arm.

  “Don’t,” he said. “I see two mugs of coffee, and you must have intended one for yourself. Stay for a minute and drink your coffee with me.”

  With her face turned away, she said with embarrassment, “I don’t really think I should, Luke.”

  “Why not?” he asked, puzzled. Then, with a quick, comprehending laugh, he told her, “I promise you that I’m perfectly respectable in my pajama bottoms.”

  “Oh.” With that startled ejaculation, she swung her gaze round to see him throw back the covers and reveal low-slung, cotton pajama trousers with a front white drawstring. Black hairs grew downwards and disappeared into the blue pajamas, and she quickly looked up into his laughing face and then turned away, her face brick red. She mumbled, “I only meant to leave you the tray and take my own cup to my room.”

  “And I would appreciate your company so much more,” he coaxed her. A sharp-sounding buzz interrupted whatever he would have added to that, and he swung round to the opposite side of the bed to switch off his alarm. “You were just about bang on time with that tray. What are you doin
g up so early, anyway?” he asked, and pulled his legs around to sit cross-legged on the bed. She handed his cup to him and took her own to sip.

  “I just woke up. I didn’t sleep very soundly last night, and when I saw what time it was, I decided to get up and surprise you.”

  “A very nice surprise it is, too. Have a bacon slice.” He shared his breakfast with her as they sat and chatted together for a little while. She nibbled round a corner of toast as she answered his questions as to what she had planned for the day.

  “After I’ve had my stitches out and filled in an application for a job, I thought I’d go and do a little window-shopping, since I’ll have Joss’s car for the afternoon,” she said carelessly, finishing up the last of her toast, and brushing her gown to get rid of the crumbs. “Window-shopping is about all I can afford!” With this she turned a smiling face to him and found him frowning. Her smile began to fade. “What is it?”

  He glanced quickly at her from a heavy-looking brow. “Nothing,” was his absent reply. Then, “How would you like to come and see where I work, instead?”

  She blinked. “That would be nice,” she replied, surprised at the unexpected offer. “But I don’t think so, thank you all the same. I’ll just run around a little bit.”

  “Think you’d be bored with all my office work?” he asked lightly, but with a queer look that had her staring at him in puzzlement.

  “Of course not,” she said. “But you won’t convince me that you haven’t better things to do than to entertain an impromptu guest. Maybe some time when you know I’m coming and have planned for the visit would be better for you.”

  “I think,” he said dryly, “that I might be a tolerable judge of my own affairs, thank you.” His expression was unreadable, and to her eyes, formidable.

  At this she started to feel a little angry. “If you’re going to be like this all day, I’m not sure that I want to visit you,” she remarked with a tinge of acid. “I was only trying to be polite, you know. There’s no need for you to feel that you have to entertain me. I’m perfectly able to enjoy an afternoon by myself.”