Dead Giveaway (22 page)

Jayne had made the effort, inviting her to their brunches and parties, and by the end of the first year, they'd been playing tennis every morning, Jayne and Paul against Ellen and Johnny. Ellen had turned out to be a natural on the tennis court. Tall and built for speed, she was amazingly agile and her backhand was dynamite.

Then the tennis had tapered off as the mannequin business had gone into production. Jayne had come home one day, awed by her first glimpse of Ellen's mannequin, so Paul had gone to see the prototype for himself, and had barely been able to believe his eyes.

The skin tone was wonderful, but he'd been much more impressed with Ellen's design. How had she come up with those wonderfully neutral yet expressive features? And the pliable body that could be arranged in any of a thousand incredibly natural positions?

They'd sat there sipping the champagne they'd brought and Ellen had shrugged off his praises. It had been pure luck, a pigment she'd mixed by accident while she was in college. Paul had sighed as he'd congratulated her, exasperated that Ellen didn't recognize her own talent.

One night, a few months later when they'd driven down to Vegas for a night on the town, they'd seen Ellen and Johnny in a restaurant. Jayne and Paul had been seated in another room, but a lattice room divider gave them a clear view of Ellen and Johnny's table. There had been only one word for the expression on Ellen's face and that meant trouble. Jayne and he both knew Johnny's reputation.

Jayne had tried to prepare Ellen for the inevitable, but there had been only so far she could go, and then the whole thing had blown up. Ellen had gone back to wearing her shapeless clothes and burying herself in her workroom. She'd turned down their invitations, claiming she was simply too busy to socialize. It wasn't until Ellen had hired Walker as her general manager that things had begun to look up.

Jayne whimpered in her sleep, reaching out for him, and Paul hurried back to the bed. He cuddled up to his sleeping wife, shaping his body around hers, and then he went back to sleep, home once again with the woman he loved.

Ellen's mouth dropped open in surprise. “You want me to do
what?
”

“Come on, Ellen, just try it. It's really a lot of fun.”

“Forget it, Walker. That snow's cold. And flat on my back? No, thanks!”

Walker looked down at her with amusement and Ellen felt herself blushing. If anyone overheard them, it would be all over the building in no time flat. “Have a little common sense, Walker. What if someone saw us? I'd never be able to face them in the morning.”

“That's just an excuse.” Walker looked very serious. “You know no one's up this time of night. And even if they see us, so what? They'd probably say,
Isn't that nice? Walker and Ellen are having fun in the snow.
You're just paranoid, Ellen. My wife showed me how when we first started dating, and we must have done it in every vacant lot in Chicago.”

Ellen couldn't help it. She almost fell over, she laughed so hard. Walker stared at her in confusion for a second, and then he started to laugh with her. “Okay, okay. I know how it sounds. But I still don't see why you won't try it. It'll only take a couple of minutes.”

“Only a couple of minutes?” Ellen doubled over with an attack of the giggles. “Okay, I'll do it just to shut you up, but you'll have to teach me. I've never done it with anyone else before.”

That sent them off into new gales of laughter. Finally Walker calmed down enough to give her instructions.

“Ready?” Walker pulled her over to a spot where the snow was an unbroken sheet of sparkling white. “Now remember, Ellen. You're falling uphill and the snow is deep, so it'll be just like landing on a feather bed. After you're down, don't move a muscle until I tell you what to do next.”

Ellen gave a little cry as they fell backward. Her first instinct was to scramble to her feet, but she certainly didn't want to do this twice.

“Ellen? Are your arms tight against your hips?”

“Yup.” She giggled.

“Good.” Walker sounded very serious. “Did you ever do an exercise called the jumping jack in school?”

“Of course I did. I used to teach first grade and Mary Christine Fanger lost her hair ribbon the first time we did it in gym.”

“Good, you've got plenty of experience. We're going to do a jumping jack with our arms. Leave them level with the snow and drag them up over your head. Then back down to your side again. That'll make the wings.”

“Got it.” Ellen raised her arms and brought them back down again. Walker was right. The snow was like a feather bed, a very cold feather bed, and she looked up into the deep black night to see thousands of stars sparkling overhead. They looked so close, she felt she could almost reach up and touch them. She shivered as she was suddenly struck by the vastness of space. She was only a miniscule speck of warm life in the icy void, so small and insignificant that she could disappear without anyone noticing or caring.

“Now the legs.” Walker's disembodied voice pulled her back and she had an almost overpowering urge to reach out to touch him, just to make sure he was real.

“It's almost the same as the arms. Spread them out as far as you can, then bring them back together again. And then don't move. Ready?”

“Yes.” Ellen pushed her legs out to the side and brought them back. Then, rather than risk feeling that terrible loneliness again, she shut her eyes and told herself that she wasn't alone, that Walker was only a few feet away.

“And now I bet you're wondering how we get up without ruining it, right?”

“I guess so.” Ellen smiled to herself. That problem hadn't even occurred to her until right now. She turned her head just a fraction of an inch and watched Walker roll forward in one fluid motion until he was up on his feet. And then he was standing in front of her, smiling.

“Hold out your hands and keep your body as stiff as a board.”

Ellen hung on as Walker pulled her forward. A second later they were both standing at the foot of their creations.

“They
do
look like angels!” Ellen studied them with an appraising eye. “That was fun in a crazy sort of way.”

“Told you. And these are superior angels. If it doesn't snow anymore tonight, they'll still be there in the morning.”

Ellen stomped her feet and brushed the powdery snow off her clothes. The night was friendly now that she could see Walker, and the air was crisp and clean with the scent of pine. “Come on, let's walk through the pine grove. I've always wanted to go out there at night, but it's frightening by yourself.”

“Most things are.” Walker took her hand to help her down the steep incline, but they both slipped several times anyway. Ellen's face was flushed and she was out of breath as they ended up running the last several feet to keep from falling.

When they reached level ground, Walker still didn't release her hand and Ellen found she was glad. It felt good to walk across the huge glittering sheet of snow, swinging arms.

It was much darker when they entered the pine grove, where giant branches filtered the blue-white moonlight into lacy patterns against the snow. Ellen sighed in pure contentment; it was just as beautiful as she'd imagined. Pinecones hung from the branches like Christmas tree ornaments and icicles glistened in the blue-white light.

“Come here for a minute, Ellen.” Walker reached out with one mittened hand and pulled her under the branches of a huge pine tree. “I used to love to play under these things when I was a kid.”

Ellen ducked under a low branch. The top of her head brushed against it, sending down a shower of snow. Walker pulled her next to the trunk of the tree and dusted her off.

“Look around. What do you think?”

“It's enchanting.” Ellen looked up at the dark cavern of branches above them, drooping down to touch the ground. “It's like a little house under here, and it smells so good.”

Walker nodded. “When I was a little kid, I told my mother I wanted to live under the pine tree in our backyard.”

“I can see why.” Ellen looked down at the ground. There was no snow, only a cushion of aromatic pine needles. “Did she point out that it would get chilly in February?”

“That's exactly what she said. But I kept on dreaming of that little room under the pine tree, and when summer rolled around, I asked her again.”

Ellen smiled. “And she said no?”

“Nope. She said it'd be fine with her as long as I came in to wash up once in a while. So I fixed up a room under there with a sleeping bag and my comic books and a stash of cookies.”

“She actually let you move out there?” Ellen turned to him in surprise. “If I'd tried to do something like that, my parents would have told me to grow up and quit acting so foolish.”

Walker grinned. “My mother was a very smart woman. That night, she went upstairs to bed and I went out to my pine tree.”

“What happened?”

“Exactly what she figured. Bugs crawled on me, mosquitoes bit me, and it rained. One night was all it took.” Something about the wistful tone in Walker's voice made Ellen feel sad. Perhaps a dream should be an end in itself. It was too easy to be disappointed when fantasies came true and weren't like you'd imagined at all.

“Why so sad?” Walker slipped his arm around her shoulder and gave her a little hug.

Ellen swallowed hard before she could answer, and her voice was shaking. “You lost your dream forever. Don't you think that's sad?”

“I didn't lose my dream,” Walker protested gently. “I just tempered it with a little reality. I decided I'd rather live under a tree that had walls and a Plexiglas roof.”

Ellen smiled, but before she could stop, the bitter tears of longing, the tears she had held back for so long, were rolling down her cheeks. Walker tightened his arms around her and Ellen felt herself falling into an abyss, a sheer drop of thousands of feet that was cushioned every inch of the way by his sheltering body. He held her for a long time. And then he parted the branches and led her back to the building.

 

 

Marc was passing the window when he happened to look out and see them heading for the entrance of the building, holding hands. Ellen and her faithful slave. He had absolutely nothing against blacks personally, hired them all the time for his construction crews, but this guy had a bad habit of poking his nose into places where it didn't belong. Of course, he was a pretty good business manager for Ellen, digging out all those contracts that Johnny had arranged for Vegas Dolls. Marc had suspected that Johnny was up to something, but he hadn't known the details until Walker had asked his advice on the shipping contract.

He gave a wry smile, wondering whether they were sleeping together. The concept of a black guy getting to Ellen bothered him, although he supposed it shouldn't. It was Ellen's business and he had no stake in it. He'd never tried to pick up on her and he never would. She wasn't his type. And if you looked at the whole thing objectively, Walker was a lot better bet than Johnny Day.

Marc watched as they went into the building, then went to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a splash of vodka. He knew he ought to get some sleep, but his nerves were shot. Vanessa's death bothered him a lot more than he'd figured and helping Walker lay her out in the freezer had been a total bummer. Perhaps it was because he'd slept with her just a couple of nights before, and the memories were still fresh. Vanessa had known how to please him and she'd been up for anything. Whenever she'd knocked on his door, he'd known he was in for a wild night. He hadn't loved her, far from it, but they'd been two of a kind. On their last night together she'd told him they were animals in bed but nothing more than neighbors with their clothes on, a pretty deep thought for Vanessa. Knowing that he'd never get the chance to enjoy her gorgeous body and her warm, moist lips again was a real downer.

He finished his drink and set the glass on the bar next to the one he'd used last night. It was over a week since Ramona had cleaned, and the mess was beginning to get to him. There was a film of dust so thick he could write in it on top of his smoked-glass and chrome coffee table, the white carpet in the living room had a red stain where he'd dropped a raspberry Danish, and his pinball machines needed a shot of Windex. He would have cleaned the place himself, but Ramona brought in her own cleaning supplies and he'd never bothered to stock them. Here he was, living in the most expensive condo he'd ever built, and it was turning into a dive.

He pushed the dirty glasses to the back of the bar and scowled as his elbow twinged. He'd bumped it on that damn case of lobster when he'd helped Walker lay Vanessa out in the freezer and it had been bothering him ever since. Maybe he should have gone in for the operation his doctor had recommended last year. With the new techniques in orthoscopic surgery, his arm could be repaired completely. If they'd had the technology ten years ago, he would have jumped at the chance, but it had seemed pointless at this stage of the game. It was too late for him. No major league ball club would consider hiring a forty-year-old rookie.

There was no sense getting riled up about it. Marc filled his glass to the brim, took another gulp, and then headed for the game room. It was only natural to be jumpy after everything that had happened in the past few days. He needed some distraction or he'd go crazy, stuck up here in the condo with nothing but his anxiety for company.

Marc took off his shirt and flexed. Women still came on to him all the time and it wasn't because of his money. His newest lady couldn't seem to get enough of him. Myra wasn't much in the brains department, but he didn't go out with a woman to talk to her.

She was one crazy lady with an incredible body. He'd learned to spot silicone from a mile away and Myra was all natural. She was also a serious cokehead, but that didn't bother him. Then there was Myra's daughter. When he'd gone to pick Myra up last week, the little nymphet had waltzed out of her bedroom stark naked. At sixteen, she'd already developed a figure to rival her mother's, and all that rosy young skin had nearly driven him crazy. Naturally, she'd acted all surprised, but Marc knew she'd heard him come in. If he'd guessed that damned avalanche was going to hit, he would have invited them both up here for lunch.

 

 

Ellen could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers when she pulled away. They were standing in the middle of the living room, still in their parkas and boots. “Look, Walker. I like you a lot, but this is impossible.”

“A kiss is impossible?” Walker raised his eyebrows as he shrugged out of his parka. “Could've fooled me. I thought we just did it. Take off your coat, Ellen, you're going to get overheated.”

“I just mean that we shouldn't get involved. It really won't work.” Ellen unzipped her jacket and threw it on the couch.

“Because I'm black and you're white?”

“That has nothing to do with it and you know it!” Ellen sat down to pull off her boots.

“Didn't think so.” Walker flashed her a smile. “Then you're not attracted to me?”

Ellen took a deep breath and threw her boots in the corner. “I just don't want to get involved with any man.”

“But, Ellen, I'm not just
any
man.”

The color rose in Ellen's face. She was beginning to get exasperated. “You're being deliberately obtuse! What do I have to do, spell it out for you?”

Walker placed his boots next to Ellen's, taking time to straighten both pairs, then came to sit next to her on the couch. “Spell it out for me, Ellen, the whole thing. I want to know exactly why you won't let me love you.”

“Oh.” Ellen's voice was very small. She hadn't expected this. “All right, then. I had a bad experience. With a man.”

“But it wasn't with me, was it, Ellen?”