second’s hesitation, then she slammed the receiver onto its cradle and stepped away as if it had suddenly turned into a snake.
As Jerome approached his door and pulled the key from his pocket, he grinned ruefully to himself. He couldn’t ever remember being this eager to get home. It was Jennifer, of course. Jennifer, the new light in his life . . . and the new pain.
He hurt all over. The muscles in his stomach had begun to hurt from the constant effort of tensing them whenever he was close to her. His body hurt from the effort it took not to pull her into his arms. And his heart hurt, too, with something he didn’t want to put a name to.
Did she even exist in the real world? he actually wondered. Or was it just in his mind and in his presence where she came to life? When he walked into the living room, would she be there? Or would she have dissolved into thin air, leaving behind only a ribbon of smoke?
But as he opened the door all his capricious thoughts vanished. Jennifer was standing behind a tall chair, her gaze fixed on the door. The pallor in her face alarmed him. "Jennifer, are you all right? What happened?"
Shutting the door, he walked toward her and his gaze went to her hands. They were gripping the back of the chair to the point where her knuckles had turned white.
"Nothing happened." She gave a husky imitation of a laugh and released her hold on the chair. "I’m just fine, really. When I heard the doorknob turn, my imagination got the better of me, that’s all."
Still keeping a worried eye on her, he shed his suit jacket and hung it over a chair. "Okay, then, if you’re sure. I’ve cleared my schedule for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll fix us some lunch and afterward we’ll go shopping. I’m also going to give you one of my charge cards. It’s for a local department store. I made arrangements with them this morning. Any thing you want or need, just call them, give your name, and your order will be delivered within a few hours."
"That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I won’t need anything. Uh . . . you said we could stop at the newsstand across the street?" She had to know what was in the papers. In two days there had been no mention of what had happened, and she didn’t understand it, unless . . . there was a cover-up going on.
#
Lunch over, Jerome guided her to the garage located in the basement level of his condominium. And a short minute later he had pulled up in front of a large, open newsstand directly across the street from his building.
Leo turned out to be a hard-looking woman in her mid-fifties. Tall and a little overweight, the impression perhaps aided by the several layers of clothing she wore. Her gray hair was bound into a coronet and it gave her a curiously regal appearance.
"Mr. Mailer," she nodded. "How are you?"
"I’m fine, just fine."
She had eyes the color of faded blue cornflowers, yet they were clear and sharp all the same, and she directed them to Jennifer as Jerome introduced them.
"Leo, this is my friend, Jennifer. She’s going to be staying with me for a while." He turned to Jennifer. "This is Leo. She owns this newsstand and about a dozen others here in the Twin Cities."
Jennifer smiled, extending her hand. Leo took it firmly in her gloved one, but there was no hint of a returned smile. The day was cold and her greeting was even colder. She knows something, Jennifer thought uneasily. But what could she possibly know?
"What can I do for you today?" Leo asked.
"Just a newspaper."
"A local one, please," Jennifer requested.
As the woman picked a couple of newspapers from the rack, Jerome said, "Leo, I wonder if I could ask a favor of you?"
She turned her weather-worn face toward him in silent query.
"There may be some people coming around asking questions about me or about my guest—."
The faded blue eyes didn’t change expression. "They already have."
Jennifer’s heartbeat picked up as she wondered if they had told Leo anything. No,
As Jerome approached his door and pulled the key from his pocket, he grinned ruefully to himself. He couldn’t ever remember being this eager to get home. It was Jennifer, of course. Jennifer, the new light in his life . . . and the new pain.
He hurt all over. The muscles in his stomach had begun to hurt from the constant effort of tensing them whenever he was close to her. His body hurt from the effort it took not to pull her into his arms. And his heart hurt, too, with something he didn’t want to put a name to.
Did she even exist in the real world? he actually wondered. Or was it just in his mind and in his presence where she came to life? When he walked into the living room, would she be there? Or would she have dissolved into thin air, leaving behind only a ribbon of smoke?
But as he opened the door all his capricious thoughts vanished. Jennifer was standing behind a tall chair, her gaze fixed on the door. The pallor in her face alarmed him. "Jennifer, are you all right? What happened?"
Shutting the door, he walked toward her and his gaze went to her hands. They were gripping the back of the chair to the point where her knuckles had turned white.
"Nothing happened." She gave a husky imitation of a laugh and released her hold on the chair. "I’m just fine, really. When I heard the doorknob turn, my imagination got the better of me, that’s all."
Still keeping a worried eye on her, he shed his suit jacket and hung it over a chair. "Okay, then, if you’re sure. I’ve cleared my schedule for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll fix us some lunch and afterward we’ll go shopping. I’m also going to give you one of my charge cards. It’s for a local department store. I made arrangements with them this morning. Any thing you want or need, just call them, give your name, and your order will be delivered within a few hours."
"That’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I won’t need anything. Uh . . . you said we could stop at the newsstand across the street?" She had to know what was in the papers. In two days there had been no mention of what had happened, and she didn’t understand it, unless . . . there was a cover-up going on.
#
Lunch over, Jerome guided her to the garage located in the basement level of his condominium. And a short minute later he had pulled up in front of a large, open newsstand directly across the street from his building.
Leo turned out to be a hard-looking woman in her mid-fifties. Tall and a little overweight, the impression perhaps aided by the several layers of clothing she wore. Her gray hair was bound into a coronet and it gave her a curiously regal appearance.
"Mr. Mailer," she nodded. "How are you?"
"I’m fine, just fine."
She had eyes the color of faded blue cornflowers, yet they were clear and sharp all the same, and she directed them to Jennifer as Jerome introduced them.
"Leo, this is my friend, Jennifer. She’s going to be staying with me for a while." He turned to Jennifer. "This is Leo. She owns this newsstand and about a dozen others here in the Twin Cities."
Jennifer smiled, extending her hand. Leo took it firmly in her gloved one, but there was no hint of a returned smile. The day was cold and her greeting was even colder. She knows something, Jennifer thought uneasily. But what could she possibly know?
"What can I do for you today?" Leo asked.
"Just a newspaper."
"A local one, please," Jennifer requested.
As the woman picked a couple of newspapers from the rack, Jerome said, "Leo, I wonder if I could ask a favor of you?"
She turned her weather-worn face toward him in silent query.
"There may be some people coming around asking questions about me or about my guest—."
The faded blue eyes didn’t change expression. "They already have."
Jennifer’s heartbeat picked up as she wondered if they had told Leo anything. No,
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