The Rana Look Page 8

  “Have you seen Trent this morning?” Ruby asked as she poured Rana a cup of coffee. Rana noticed that Ruby was moving carefully and wincing at any loud sound. Rana hid a secret smile behind her china coffee cup.

  “No. Why?”

  “He’s in an awful mood. I thought maybe he clued you in while you were jogging.”

  “I didn’t run this morning, because I was getting ready to go to Houston. I haven’t seen him.”

  “Well, he’s swelled up like a bullfrog. He came stamping in a few minutes ago from his run and wearing a face like a thundercloud. He went straight up to his room without even stopping to drink his fruit juice.”

  “Hm,” Rana said noncommittally as she buttered a piece of toast. “Got up on the wrong side of the bed, I guess.”

  Was he pouting because she hadn’t jogged with him? In some ways he was such a child. His childish streak aroused her maternal instincts, and she found herself smiling at this latest tantrum. But she immediately squashed that emotion, as she had all the others. She couldn’t allow herself to feel anything for Trent. Where he was concerned, she had to be in an emotional vacuum.

  “I’ve got to get on the road, Ruby,” she said,, hastily finishing her breakfast. “Don’t look for me until late this afternoon.

  “Good luck with your business, dear. And please drive carefully. The freeways are treacherous.”

  “I’ll be careful.” She kissed Ruby’s cheek and left the house by way of the back door.

  The detached garage, located on one side of thebackyard, had been an addition to the original house. Rana was glad to see that Trent ‘s sports car was parked behind Ruby’s, so it wouldn’t be necessary for her to ask him to move it. She hung the skirt on the hook in the backseat of her compact and climbed behind the steering wheel.

  At first she thought nothing of the chugging, choking sound of the car’s motor. It was always reluctant to start. But after several unsuccessful attempts to pump the engine to life, she began cursing it. The garage was airless and stifling, even this early in the day. She tried again, becoming more frustrated every second. She wasn’t on a tight schedule, but she had to get to Houston today.

  “Damn!” she cried, banging her fist on the steering wheel. Barry would have a fit if she failed to deliver the skirt today.

  She retraced her steps to the back door. “Ruby,” she called out, “is there bus service between Galveston and Houston?” She entered the kitchen to find Trent munching on a piece of crisp bacon. Ruby was holding an ice pack to her head as she sipped coffee.

  The landlady put down the ice pack. “I thought you’d gone, dear.”

  Resolutely Rana kept her eyes away from Trent, who was dressed in a sport shirt and slacks. There was a lightweight sport jacket draped over the back of his chair. “My car won’t start. I’ll have to take a bus to Houston. Where can I catch one?”

  “I’m going to Houston today. I’ll drive you,” Trent said.

  “What a dear boy,” Ruby said, smiling fondly at her nephew. “Sit down, Rana, and have another cup of coffee.”

  “But,” Rana protested, wetting her lips, “I really need to go alone.”

  She couldn’t take Trent into Barry’s store with her. Barry might blurt out something that would give her away. All night she had toyed with the idea of having Morey accept that contract. If she went back to work, she would avoid the heartache of getting more deeply involved with Trent. But if she made that decision, she wanted simply to disappear. She never wanted him to know she wasn’t the plain Miss Ana Ramsey he thought her to be. If he ever found out about her other life, he would be furious with her for deceiving him.

  “I’m probably going miles out of your way,” she said discouragingly.

  “Where do you need to go?”

  “The Galleria.”

  “Fine,” he said, with a “that’s settled” nod of his head. “I’ve got to see a doctor about my shoulder. His office is near there. Are you ready?” he asked, standing up.

  “Really, I can’t trouble you,” she said quickly, desperately.

  “Look,” he said, pulling his coat off the chair with an irritated yank, “I’ve got to go anyway. It would be crazy for you to try to get around Houston in a damn bus. Now, do you want to ride with me or not?”

  No, she didn’t want to. But realistically, she didn’t have much ‘choice. Lowering her head, she mumbled, “Thank you, yes, I’ll ride with you.”

  They said their good-byes to Ruby, who repeated her instructions to drive carefully. In Trent ’s sports car, Rana folded the skirt in her lap.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, glancing down. “There’s no place to hang it.”

  “It will be all right.”

  That was the extent of their conversation until they were halfway to Houston. Then she ventured to ask, “How is your shoulder?”

  “Why didn’t you run with me this morning?”

  “I didn’t have time. I was getting ready for my trip to Houston.”

  “And you couldn’t bother to tell me that?”

  “I must have been in the shower when you came by. I didn’t hear your knock.”

  “I didn’t hear the shower running, either.”

  “Are you in the habit of listening at my door?”

  “Are you in the habit of lying?”

  They lapsed into another turbulent silence, interrupted only by Trent ’s muttered curses at the sluggish Houston traffic.

  After several minutes Rana became ashamed of both of them for behaving in such a snippish, juvenile way. “How is your shoulder?” she asked again.

  “I don’t understand you, Ana,” he shouted, as though he’d been sitting there fuming, waiting for the right moment to vent his anger, just as he waited for opportunities to whip his car around motorists driving too slowly to suit him. “You were justified in being mad at me when I kept coming on to you. So, all right, you slapped my hand and I admitted that I deserved it. I thought we were going to be friends, but you never lighten up. I never know where I stand with you. You’re stiff and unbending and uptight. It’s no surprise to me that your husband split and that you don’t have any friends.”

  He guided the sleek car into one of the lanes leading to the massive shopping complex. “You can let me out here,” Rana said tightly, her lips barely moving. She already had a grip on the door handle.

  He braked the car to a screeching halt at the curb, and she got out after speaking a terse “Thanks.”

  “A couple of hours?” he asked.

  “Fine,” she said, and slammed the door behind her.

  Barry didn’t improve her mood. There were a few shoppers in the store, but they were being helped by his effusive sales staff. The moment he saw Rana come in, he grabbed her arm and hurried her to the rear of the store and into his office. Unlike the immaculate and serene shop, which was decorated in soothing pastels, his office was cluttered and cramped and reeked of acrid tobacco smoke. He faced her, folding his arms in a gesture of disapproval.

  “My Lord, if anything, you’ve gotten worse.”

  “Don’t start in on me, Barry,” she said, hanging Mrs. Rutherford’s skirt on a hook and collapsing into the only available chair. “I’ve already had a helluva morning.”

  “You look positively wretched.”

  “Thanks. That’s the point. I wish to remain anonymous, something you make almost impossible by displaying a poster of that underwear ad in your lingerie section. How could you, Barry?”

  “Because it sells panties, dear heart. Dozens of them. Believe me,” he said, sliding appraising eyes over her with obvious distaste, “no one will recognize you. In fact, I shall do my best to keep you hidden. If my customers saw their idol, Ana R., they’d throw up their hands and scream. They may envision you as an eccentric artist, an image I’ve intentionally promoted, but they wouldn’t want to know you’re a ragpicker.”

  “Do you have a diet soda?”

  “Yes,” he said, opening a small refrigerator tucked und
er a sagging shelf, “but don’t get too comfy. We have loads of business to discuss. By the way, the skirt is fab.” He had lifted the plastic bag and inspected it. “Mrs. Rutherford will be absolutely giddy.”

  An hour and a half later, Rana stood up to leave, with a new idea to consider and a hefty check and four orders in her purse. “Luckily I have a supply of silks and cottons I got on my last visit to that warehouse,” she told him. “Be sure to have your seamstress send me a list of the customers’ measurements next week. The ones she personally takes, not the ones they submit themselves. Ladies tend to fudge in their own favor.”

  Barry took hanks of Rana’s hair in each of his hands and pulled it back away from her face, holding it there as he studied her. “Ahh, just a glimpse of the old Rana. Why not let me send you down to Neiman’s salon and have your hair and makeup done? Then I’ll deck you out in that new Ungaro collection. Or I have a white silk jersey Kamali that’s perfectly Rana. Do some floor modeling for me today, and my sales will soar. It would be good for both of us.”

  She shook her head, and he released her hair, regretfully watching it fall back to cover her classic cheekbones. “No, Barry.”

  “Will you ever go back to doing what you do better than anyone, love?”

  “Morey wants me to.” She told Barry about the two-year contract she’d been offered. “I haven’t decided whether to accept it or not.”

  He sighed. “Are you happy this way, Rana?”

  “Happy?” Had she ever been happy in her life? Was anyone? “I’m content. I think that’s the most anyone can ask for.”

  Not wanting to become too maudlin, she kissed him, thanked him again for the orders, and assured him she’d think about his latest innovative idea. Once out in the mall, she realized that she hadn’t specified a place to meet Trent. She didn’t have long to ponder her dilemma, because she spotted him walking around aimlessly, occasionally stopping to watch the ice skaters gliding across the center rink.

  He was so very attractive. Each time she saw him, she was mildly surprised all over again by how much he appealed to her. He wasn’t bulky and massive like professional football linemen, but his muscles filled out his jacket and slacks. His clothes fit to a “T” and were well tailored, though casual. She liked the way his dark hair waved naturally, flirting with the tops of his ears and his collar. He was wearing opaque sunglasses, probably to keep fans from recognizing him.

  She made her way toward him slowly, glad for the opportunity to study him without his knowing it. When she was still a fair distance away, he turned his head in her direction. He must have seen her instantly, because he began wending his way toward her through the crowd.

  “I’m sorry, Ana.” He spoke the words in a breathless rush as soon as he came within hearing distance. “What I said was-”

  A harried lady shopper bumped into him from behind. Taking Rana’s arm, he guided them out of the flow of foot traffic, placing her between him and the wall. She had to angle her head back in order to look at him. He took off his glasses and tucked them into the breast pocket of his coat. His dark eyes were troubled.

  “What I said in the car just before you got out, well, it was unforgivable,” he said. “I didn’t mean it. I was just so damn mad. ”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Trent.”

  “Yes, I do. These are for you.” He thrust a bouquet of daisies at her. “I wanted to get roses, but they were sold out. Forgive me? Please.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she stared wordlessly into the cluster of daisies. She lowered her face, nestling her nose among the dewy petals. She had been sent flowers often. Extravagant arrangements of roses and orchids had come from counts and corporate presidents. None had ever meant anything to her. This small, unpretentious bouquet of humble daisies was the most precious gift she had ever received.

  “Thank you, Trent. They’re lovely.”

  “I had no right to speak to you like that.”

  “I provoked you.”

  “Well, anyway, I’m sorry.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  The mall was crowded. Shoppers hurried past them. Still they didn’t leave their spot. He continued to stare down at her.

  “Have you been waiting long?” he asked.

  “No. I saw you from across the atrium.”

  “I was so mad I didn’t even tell you where to meet me. ”

  “That’s all right. We found each other.”

  “Yes. We found each other.”

  As he continued to gaze down at her, her words took on a deeper meaning. He inched closer. His hand came up to rest against her cheek. He whispered her name. Then he lowered his head and pressed his lips against her cheek.

  Rana stopped breathing. She didn’t move. The daisies, which she was holding against her chest, were crushed between them. She heard the crackling of the green tissue they were wrapped in and felt the damp petals against her arms.

  But it was the man who captured most of her awareness. He smelled like summer sunshine and a masculine fragrance. She wanted to nuzzle his warm neck and breathe deeply of his scent. His lips went from cool to warm against her cheek. His breath, rapid and unsteady, whispered across her face. Only a supreme act of will kept her from flinging her arms around him and never letting him go.

  He hesitated, as though trying to make up his mind about something; then he stepped away. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking her arm and leading her through the mall.

  “How is your shoulder?” she asked once they were in the car and negotiating traffic again.

  He laughed. “You’ve asked me that several times already.”

  “And I never got an answer. What did the doctor say?”

  “He said that by the time I go off to summer training camp, I should be in great shape.”

  “ Trent, that’s wonderful,” she said enthusiastically, tamping down a wave of sadness that came with his news. When he left for camp, he’d be leaving her life for good.

  “I guess the rest and relaxation is starting to pay off.” He grinned across at her. His smile showed brilliantly in his darkly tanned face. “Hungry?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t get any lunch.”

  “Neither did I.”

  He took her to one of his favorite Mexican restaurants. She had just begun to acquire a taste for the spicy ethnic cuisine. “Are you sure we’ll get out alive?” she commented dubiously when he braked in the gravel parking lot of the restaurant. It hardly qualified as such. “Cantina” might have been a more appropriate description. The porch sagged considerably. The sign over the door was so faded that only a few letters were distinguishable. The windows were murky and decorated with window boxes containing dusty plastic flowers in garish colors.

  “I didn’t say it was fancy, only that it was the best.”

  They laughed and joked all through the meal, which Trent ordered from an enormously fat woman who kept patting him affectionately on the cheek and calling him “Angelito.”

  When they left the restaurant, he drove Rana around Houston, pointing out places of interest that an out-of-towner would rarely see.

  By the time they returned to Galveston, it was well after dark. Ruby was waiting for them at the back door. “I’ve been worried,” she said. “ Trent, did you forget that you promised to take me bowling tonight?”

  Rana could almost hear his inward groan, but for his aunt’s sake, he smiled. “Of course not. Not after looking forward to it all week. Is it all right if Ana comes along?”

  “Certainly,” Ruby said. “The more the merrier.”

  Rana had had such a perfect day, she wanted it to stop now, before something happened to ruin it. Besides, she didn’t want to intrude on Ruby’s evening with her adored nephew. “I’m a lousy bowler. You two go ahead. I’m tired and want to get to bed early anyway.”

  She wanted to think that Trent was disappointed. He seemed to be as Ruby practically dragged him out the front door. “Be sure to lock up,” he told Rana as she waved
good-bye. She had the distinct impression that he would much rather have stayed with her than escort his aunt to the bowling alley. His farewell smile left a warm, glowing feeling inside her.

  In her room, she placed the daisies in a vase of water and put them where she could see them as she reclined in a hot bubble bath. She had just stepped out when her telephone rang.

  “Where have you been all day?” a gruff voice asked when she answered.

  “And hello to you, too, Morey. I had to go to Houston.”

  “That’s what your landlady told me.”

  “You’d be proud of the money I came home with.”

  “Too bad I’m not getting my percentage.” Rana wondered again if Morey hadn’t gotten himself into financial straits with his gambling, but before she could inquire, he plunged right into the business at hand. “Well, have you thought it over?”

  “Yes, Morey.”

  “Spare me the suspense.”

  “My answer is no.”

  She had thought it over carefully, weighing every aspect of her decision. As recently as last night she had entertained the thought of returning to her former way of life, despite the unhappiness it would bring her.

  But today, when Trent had presented her with the flowers, she’d realized how much progress she had made. A man had given her flowers without considering whether or not she was pretty. The daisies weren’t a tribute to her beauty, but to the woman she was on the inside.

  She didn’t want to return to the superficial world, where she was considered a commodity solely because God had given her a certain face and body.

  “Do you realize what you’re passing up, Rana?”

  “Please don’t try to talk me out of my decision, Morey. My mind’s made up. I’m not saying I’ll never go back. Just not right now.”

  His sigh conveyed his disappointment, but all he said was, “That’s it, then?”

  “Yes. That’s it.”