Part 3 (1/2)
Carson Harcourt drove up in front of the two-story stucco fourplex on Cherry Street, climbed out of his Mercedes and started up the walkway to apartment B. The area was quiet, the neighborhood one of the safest in town. He was only a few minutes late and he figured, at any rate, Elizabeth wouldn't be ready when he got there.
Women never were.
A brisk rap on the door. He was surprised when a fully dressed Elizabeth Conners pulled it open.
Carson's gaze ran over her floor-length dark blue sequined gown and he found himself smiling. His spur-of-the-moment invitation to the benefit was nothing short of genius. He had noticed she was pretty, of course. He'd had a hunch, once she abandoned the boring but professional business suits she always wore, she would be far more than that.
”You look gorgeous,” he said, meaning it. She was a little taller than average and slenderly built. As he a.s.sessed her curve-hugging gown, he saw that she had nice full b.r.e.a.s.t.s, smooth shoulders, a small waist and well-shaped hips.
I should have done this sooner, he chided himself.
”Thanks for the compliment. You look very das.h.i.+ng yourself, Carson.”
He smiled. He'd always looked good in a tux. The black showed off his blond hair and blue eyes, and the single-b.u.t.ton style set off the width of his shoulders. Too bad it was still so d.a.m.ned hot. He'd only been out of the air-conditioned car for a couple of minutes and already he was sweating inside the collar of his white pleated s.h.i.+rt.
”Let's get going. It'll be cooler in the car.”
Elizabeth nodded and took his arm. Carson led her toward his silver Mercedes and settled her in the pa.s.senger seat. The air conditioner blasted full force the moment he turned the electronic key in the ignition. It had been a while since he'd had time for female companions.h.i.+p. As he glanced over at Elizabeth, he thought that maybe it was time for that to change. He would see how well they dealt together tonight.
The benefit was in full swing by the time they arrived. Carson led Elizabeth through the milling crowd, waving to a few friendly faces, heading toward the front of the room. He stopped at the no-host bar and ordered a gla.s.s of champagne for Elizabeth and a scotch-and-soda for himself. They made conversation with a few of the guests, Sam Marston, head of Teen Vision, Dr. and Mrs. Lionel Fox, one of the organizations biggest contributors, a couple of high school counselors.
”Elizabeth! I didn't realize you would be here!” It was Gwen Petersen. She was there with her husband, Jim, district manager for Wells Fargo Bank, and apparently she was a good friend of Elizabeth's.
”I hadn't planned to come until Carson was kind enough to invite me. I meant to call you. I've just been so busy.”
Gwen's gaze swung from Elizabeth to Carson, lingered there a moment as if she were contemplating the two of them together, then she smiled.
”Well, what a nice idea.” She was a pet.i.te woman with red hair and attractive features. She and her husband had a couple of little boys, if he recalled correctly, and he usually did.
Carson returned her smile. ”I think it was a very good idea.”
Gwen's gaze returned to her friend. ”I'll call you the first of the week. We definitely need to have lunch.”
Elizabeth nodded. ”See you then.”
It was nearly time to start the proceedings. Carson seated Elizabeth at the white-draped head table and took a seat beside her.
The room began to quiet as the last of the guests took their places at the tables. The benefit was being held in the banquet room of the Holiday Inn, where most local occasions took place.
Carson introduced Elizabeth to the other people seated at the front of the room, some of whom she knew, and they all conversed politely as dinner was served, the usual rubber chicken in some kind of dull brown gravy, lukewarm mashed potatoes and overcooked broccoli. Dessert followed, a decent chocolate mousse that managed to satisfy the holes in his appet.i.te the scant meal had been unable to fill.
Then the speeches began. Sam Marston talked about the progress they were making at the youth farm. John Dillon, one of the high school counselors, spoke about the opportunities the farm provided for troubled teenage boys. Carson was introduced last and received a big round of applause.
He straightened his tuxedo jacket as he moved behind the podium. ”Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It's gratifying to see such a fantastic turnout for such a worthy cause.” More applause. He'd always liked the sound of it. ”Sam told you a little about the farm. Let me tell you a little about the boys enrolled in Teen Vision.”
He began with a brief history of some of the youths who had graduated from the farm. By the time he had finished describing the tragedies suffered by some of the young men and how Teen Vision had changed their lives, the entire hall had fallen completely silent.
”You've all been generous in your contributions. I hope you'll continue to support the farm as you have in the past. Tonight we'll be accepting donations. Just take your checks over to the table next to the door and Mrs. Grayson will give you a receipt you can use for your income taxes.”
Everyone applauded vigorously and Carson sat back down next to Elizabeth.
”You were wonderful,” she said, her pretty blue eyes s.h.i.+ning. ”You really painted a picture of what those boys have suffered.”
He shrugged his shoulders. ”It's a very worthwhile project. I'm happy to help in any way I can.”
She was looking up at him and smiling. He liked that in a woman, that she appreciated a man and let him know it. And he liked the way she looked in that dress, s.e.xy yet cla.s.sy. Not too overblown. With a little more money to spend on the suits she wore, she would even look good in those.
”The band is starting to play,” he said. ”Why don't we dance?”
Elizabeth smiled. ”I'd love to.” She rose from her chair and led the way to the dance floor. Carson watched the sway of her behind and smiled approvingly. s.e.xy but not too flashy, a good memory for names, he had discovered, and a decent conversationalist, as well.
Interesting.
A slow song began. He eased her into his arms and her hands slid up around his neck. They stepped into the music as if they had danced together a dozen times and he liked the way their bodies fit together.
”You're a very good dancer,” she said.
”I try.” He thought of the ballroom dance lessons his mother had insisted he take when he was a boy. The effort was paying off now, as she had promised, though at the time he had hated every minute. ”I've always loved to dance.”
”So have I.” Elizabeth followed him easily, making him look even better than he usually did. Her waist was trim, her body firm beneath his hands. He had always found her attractive. He was surprised he had not given her more consideration before.
Then again, his political ambitions had loomed further in the future. Recently, that had begun to change.
The song ended. Carson followed Elizabeth off the dance floor, then both of them came to a sudden halt as a dark-haired man stepped in their way.
”Well, look who's here,” Carson drawled, staring into his brother's gold-flecked brown eyes. Times changed, but some things didn't. His feelings for Zachor lack thereofwere one of them.
Elizabeth looked from Carson to the man standing toe-to-toe with him, dark-haired, dark-eyed. Unbelievably handsome. The realization hit hershe had seen this man at the barn. Though his face had been hidden behind a pair of wraparound sungla.s.ses, it was the man she had seen working on the barn at Teen Vision. And now she knew why he had seemed so familiar.
”I thought you weren't coming,” Carson said to him, an edge to his voice that hadn't been there before. Elizabeth knew why. The man standing in front of her was Carson's half brother.
”I changed my mind.” Zachary Harcourt's gaze moved to her and he flashed a smile that looked incredibly white against his dark skin. ”h.e.l.lo, Liz.”
Her whole body stiffened. ”h.e.l.lo, Zach. It's been a while.” But not long enough, she thought, remembering the last time she had seen him, remembering how drunk and insulting he had been, his eyes dilated from whatever drug he had been using at the time. She'd been a senior in high school, working part-time at Marge's Cafe. ”I didn't know you were back in San Pico.”
”I'm not. Not officially. Though I gather you're living here now.”
”I've been back for a couple of years.” She didn't tell him she had seen him out at Teen Vision, but she silently questioned Carson's judgment in allowing a man like his brother around a group of impressionable teenage boys.
”Nice party,” Zach said, glancing around at the women in formal gowns, the men in tuxedos. ”If you like rubber chicken and a band whose usual gig is the veteran's hall.”
”This is San Pico, not L.A.” Carson said stiffly, reaching up to adjust his black bow tie. ”We're here to raise money, in case you've forgotten.”
”After that tear-jerking little speech you gave, how could I possibly forget? Nice job, by the way.” Zach's tux looked expensive, Italian, judging from the fabric and cut, Armani or maybe Valentino, designers who specialized in clothes for men with the lean, hard build of a fas.h.i.+on model.
She wondered where he got the kind of money to buy clothes like that and thought maybe he had moved up to selling drugs these days. At least he no longer had the dazed look of a user.