Sultry. Mary Baxter Lynn

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      “No one’s ever tried what I’m proposing before.”

      “My point. That’s because it won’t work.”

      Lindsay’s eyes sparked. “I disagree. I think it will work and work well.”

      “So call our congressman and tell him,” Cooper said in an offhand manner. “Let him pursue it.”

      “I don’t want to call our congressman,” Lindsay said, her voice tight but even. “I want to spearhead it myself.”

      Cooper lunged to his feet. “That’s the craziest notion I’ve ever heard.”

      “It may be crazy, but it’s not impossible.”

      “Just say I thought it was a good idea—which I don’t—” Cooper added quickly “how the hell do you propose to pull it off?”

      “With lots of money and lots of time.”

      “Your money and your time, right?”

      Lindsay didn’t so much as blink under the harsh glare of his criticism and censure. “That and grants. There’s all kinds of money out there. You just have to know where to find it, then how to get it.”

      “And I suppose you do?”

      She ignored the mocking edge in his voice and said, “Of course not. I don’t have all the answers yet, but it’s something I really want to try. Something that will give my life direction.”

      “That’s baloney. Your life has direction. When you and Peter marry—”

      “Don’t, Daddy. Peter’s off-limits.”

      “As far as I’m concerned, this poppycock idea is what’s off-limits.”

      “I thought you might even be willing to donate some of the money,” Lindsay said in a dull tone.

      “Like hell!” Cooper raged. “I don’t want you that involved with those kinds of people, you hear?”

      Lindsay blanched, mortified at his choice of words. “‘Those kinds of people’?”

      “Yes,” he hammered on. “You’re a Newman. You’re meant for bigger and better things.”

      “Like what?” she asked fiercely, fighting off her disappointment and forcing back the tears. She’d had such high hopes that for once he would see things her way, support her in just one thing she wanted to do. She should have known better, she told herself, bitterness coursing through her like poison.

      “Like marrying Peter and making a home for him,” Cooper said into the reigning silence, his tone grim.

      Lindsay’s chin jutted. She was determined not to waver from her game plan. She refused to be lured into another blazing gunfight about Peter. Besides, when Cooper got on his high horse, like now, there was no reasoning with him.

      “And acting as my hostess,” he went on. “Something that is damn important to me. Which reminds me, now that I’m feeling like my old self again, I want to have a dinner party. Not a large one, but a party, nonetheless.” His eyebrows shot up. “Need I say more?”

      No, but she was about to. “Why haven’t you remarried, Daddy?”

      Lindsay knew she’d shocked him again, but that was okay. That question was one she had wanted to ask for a long time but hadn’t had the courage to. Now it just slipped out, and somehow it seemed to fit the natural order of things. Cooper loved to entertain, and he loved women. In her mind, the two were closely linked.

      “I intend never to remarry,” he said coldly.

      “Do you think that’s what Mother would’ve wanted?” Lindsay asked, fishing for something that even she couldn’t identify. She blamed Tim. He had scraped the scab on an old wound that had never healed. Now it was festering again.

      Cooper’s features turned more frigid than his voice. “I’d rather leave your mother out of this conversation, if you don’t mind.”

      “But I do mind,” she said, her eyes wide and questioning. “You never want to talk about Mother, what happened to her—or to me, for that matter.”

      “You’re right, I don’t. End of discussion.” He got up and strode back into the house.

      Lindsay withdrew her gaze from his rigid back and stared into the distance. But nothing was visible. Her eyes were too full of tears.

      Six

      Tim rubbed the back of his neck. He felt awful, like he’d been drinking for days and was being punished with a humdinger of a headache. He wouldn’t have minded the pain, if only he could say he’d reaped the benefits. Unfortunately, he hadn’t had a stinking drop of alcohol.

      Eve. She was to blame. She had caused this roar inside his head, and judging from the way she was glaring at him through her dove-gray eyes, she was just getting started.

      “I’m waiting for an explanation, Tim. And not very patiently, either.”

      “What if I’m not prepared to give you one?”

      She set her teeth, making her face appear more pointed than it normally did. She was an attractive woman, though not beautiful in the true sense of the word—not like Lindsay was beautiful. Maybe “pleasing to the eye” was a better way to describe his wife.

      “Well, I’m not prepared to accept that.” Her tone was filled with sarcasm, something that was rare for Eve.

      Under most circumstances, she was the quiet and dutiful wife he’d married while in medical school. He’d always considered them to have an okay marriage, because she was content to be his wife and nothing more. She had been a career woman once, but when they’d married, she had given it up.

      Tall and willowy, she had shoulder-length dark hair that helped hide the fact that her neck was too long and scrawny. Her strong suit was the fact that she loved to entertain and did it well. She had been the perfect wife for him, and he hated like hell for anything to mess with that.

      Now, thanks to his fuck-up, their marriage and everything else he held dear was in jeopardy.

      Tim felt that roar in his head shift to his stomach, causing it to rebel. For a minute he thought he might actually have to head for the toilet. He took several deep breaths in succession, and it settled.

      “You’re not leaving this room until you tell me what is going on.” Eve paused and seemed to fight back tears. “I’ve never been so humiliated in my entire life.”

      He had just come in from the office, later than usual, and he was tired. This had been one day when he’d been forced to work far more hours than he liked. He’d had visions of coming home to a hot shower, followed by a hot dinner—not to a wife with an ax to grind.

      “I’ll have some money in the account tomorrow,” Tim said, though he didn’t know where the hell he was going to get it.

      “Why СКАЧАТЬ