State Secrets. Linda Lael Miller

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СКАЧАТЬ she had to take a deep breath before she could speak calmly. “What? How did he know—”

      Toby shrugged. “Maybe there was something in the paper. Mr. Richardson was pretty disappointed when I told him I didn’t know the president.”

      Holly was pacing the floor, her hands tucked into the hip pockets of her jeans. The celebrity of being a cookbook author was one thing—only a select group of people cared one way or the other, of course—but this shirttail relationship to the future president could get to be a real problem. Suppose reporters started taking an interest? Suppose what Craig had done got talked about? Toby could be hurt or even put in real danger!

      “Did you see any newspaper people, Toby? Did anybody ask you questions?”

      Toby shook his head. “Can I watch TV?”

      Holly nodded somewhat impatiently. “You’ll tell me if anyone you don’t know tries to talk to you, won’t you, Toby?”

      “Sure. Is there any lemonade?”

      Agitated, Holly forced herself to stop pacing. There was no reason to panic, no reason. After all, she and Craig were only distantly related to the new president.

      “Mom?”

      “Cocoa. I’ll make you a cup of cocoa. It’s too cold for lemonade.”

      “Okay,” Toby agreed amiably, on his way out of the kitchen. A moment later, as she searched the cupboard for a saucepan in which to prepare the cocoa, Holly heard the television set in the next room blaring. Her hands trembled as she collected the milk, salt, sugar and chocolate.

      Oh, my God, she thought. Craig, what have you done to us? What have you done to all of us?

      She reflected on her brother’s problems as she made the cocoa and carried it into the family room to Toby. The telephone shrilled and Holly jumped, startled out of her skin. She raced back into the kitchen and grabbed up the receiver. “H-hello?”

      “Hello, kitten,” said the familiar masculine voice on the other end.

      Holly sank into the chair at her small desk, her knees wobbly. Skyler. It was only Skyler. She was so glad that she didn’t even ask him not to call her by that silly, condescending nickname. “Hi,” she said.

      Skyler cleared his throat. Skyler always cleared his throat when he was about to suggest something he expected Holly to oppose. “Listen, Holl, I was wondering—why don’t you and I and the kid just drive up to my folks’ place tonight, instead of waiting until tomorrow? I could close the shop early.”

      Holly bit her lower lip, considering. She hated the way Skyler always referred to Toby as “the kid,” as though he didn’t have a name. But confronting him about it had about as much effect as asking him not to call her “kitten.” Which was none at all.

      “Holly?” Skyler prompted when the silence grew too long. “Are you still there?”

      “I was just—I was just thinking.”

      “Is it that hard to decide?” he snapped, impatient now.

      Holly drew a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. “No, Skyler, of course not. But, well—”

      Skyler made an exasperated sound. “I suppose you’re afraid I’ll want you to sleep with me. In my parents’ house, Holly? Give me some credit, will you?”

      He was being unusually defensive, Holly thought, but then sex was an issue between them. While Holly was certainly no innocent, she wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy, not with Skyler Hollis at any rate. “Sky.”

      “Well? That is what you were thinking, isn’t it?”

      Holly sighed as she rubbed her aching temples with a thumb and forefinger. “Yes. And I refuse to discuss it over the telephone.”

      Skyler’s struggle for equanimity was almost audible. “Right,” he said presently. “Do I pick you up tonight or not, Holly?”

      “What time would we leave?”

      “I can be ready in about an hour and a half. We could eat dinner on the way if you’d like.”

      Holly found herself smiling in spite of the odd tension Skyler always managed to inspire in her. “That sounds like a good idea. I really don’t feel like cooking.”

      Skyler chuckled. “Little wonder.”

      “On the other hand, I’ve got a freezer full of experimental ka-bobs. Test run from yesterday.”

      “I’m in no mood to be a guinea pig,” Skyler retorted quickly, and there was a disturbing note of conviction in his voice. “I’ll see you at—” he paused and Holly could imagine him looking at his thin gold watch “—six-thirty.”

      “Six-thirty,” Holly confirmed, and after a few perfunctory words of parting, they both hung up.

      Somebody should have said, “I love you,” Holly thought as she left the kitchen.

      Skyler stood before the mantelpiece, frowning at the invitation to the Inaugural Ball. He was a tall man with sleek, fair hair, an altar-boy face and elegant, long-fingered hands. The owner of a very successful stereo-and-television dealership, Skyler was prosperous, and his tailored gray slacks and tasteful cashmere sweater were meant to convey that to even the most casual onlooker.

      Holly stood watching him, waiting, her hands in the pockets of her black corduroy skirt. With it she wore high leather boots, a burgundy blouse and her black velvet blazer. Her hair, cut in a layered, easy-care style, glistened, and her makeup was perfect.

      “You didn’t tell me you knew—” Skyler began, pensively, turning to frown at her.

      “I know lots of famous people, Skyler.”

      “Yes,” Skyler mused, one perfect golden eyebrow arched in speculation, “but shaking somebody’s hand on The Today Show and getting invited to an Inaugural Ball are two different things.”

      Holly folded her arms and allowed herself a wry smile, though inside she felt shaky. She always did with Skyler; his very presence seemed to evaporate her self-confidence. “Howard is a distant cousin, Skyler. I didn’t mention it because I didn’t think it mattered.”

      “Howard! You call the next president of the United States ‘Howard’?”

      Holly shrugged. “It’s his name, Skyler.”

      “Still—”

      Suddenly Holly was impatient. “I’m not going to the ball anyway,” she said, reaching for her purse, which sat on the corner of her desk. “Shall we go? The traffic will be horrendous and it’s still snowing.”

      Skyler nodded distractedly, but even as they left the kitchen, he kept casting his eyes back to the invitation. “Right,” he said.

      Once Toby and his suitcase, which also contained Holly’s things, had been tucked into the tiny back seat of Skyler’s sleek, sporty car, and the boy had been carefully buckled in by a seat belt, Holly glanced quickly at СКАЧАТЬ