TOO MANY WOMEN.. , seemed to be the curse of virile Jed Kingsley. While he fought his business partner, Thorpe, for control of the company, they kept coming at him ... one luscious lovely after another. There was Andrea, of the country club set. And Bess, the secretary with a special way to file important things, and what she could do with a swivel chair. Kittie, the rough buxom blonde with the red negligee. Mavis, the mousy type who turns wild. And more ... like Edythe, owner of a rival company who visits Jed with a little proposition ... all about business, some merger she had in mind. And through all the torrid, passion-charged bouts, Jed still has time to keep his desire-ridden mind on business. On the endless board meetings and proxy fights that leave him, finally, in control of his company, and Edythe's company ... and well on his way toward a more permanent merger.
CHAPTER ONE
In the darkened restaurant, the spot-lights were focused on the blonde singer. Jed Kingsley moved closer to his fiance and ran his hand boldly over her knee. It was silken, warm to his touch. He squeezed her knee, leaned closer to whisper:
"Andrea, let's go up to my place. Right now."
Her hand firmly removed his hand from her knee. Her head turned, her lips brushed his ear as she whispered back.
"Not now, Jed. I want to stay. Everyone's raving about this girl."
Jed clenched his teeth on an impolite word. In the darkness, he reached for his glass of Scotch. The girl singer swayed in the spotlights, and the colors glittered over her black, sequined gown. Jed appraised her with some interest, as he appraised all women. But right now he wanted Andrea, and Miss Andrea Searle, socialite, was being too damned coy and playful.
Jed was fed up with this social bit. He was the first to admit he had brought it on himself. When he and Russell Thorpe had formed the Crown Company and launched their incentive program from their headquarters in Pomona, Jed had decided it was also his chance to crash society in his home town. Shrewdly he had taken on some clients more for their social connections here in Pomona than for their business sense. And here he was, engaged to the granddaughter of old Maria Webber Searle, society queen of Pomona.
Andrea had fallen like a ripe plum into his willing hands. She was in love with him. She wanted to marry him. They had her parents' consent, and Maria's consent.
The lights came up. Andrea turned back to Jed, smiled. "There, darling, wasn't that good? Not the usual raw, sexy act."
"Yeah," said Jed. Was that what he missed? Was he too crude and raw and sexy himself for this crowd?
"Isn't that Russell Thorpe over there?" asked Andrea.
Jed looked around without interest. He saw enough of his partner in business hours. He studied the stalwart man coming out of a side room of the country club. Russell's dark hair glistened with gray in the bright lights. He was getting up in years, Jed decided, vaguely surprised at the observation. Thorpe must be in his mid-forties.
Thorpe went out a side door to the parking lot.
Jed's attention went back to Andrea. She looked delectable in a golden-brown satin dress with a jacket of gold lame. Her golden earrings that dangled to her shoulders livened the quietness of her pretty face, the calmness of her eyes.
"Shall we go now?" he asked again, his impatience mounting. He saw no reason to sit in a restaurant when they could be alone in his apartment.
She pouted beautifully, but he still didn't like it, though her red mouth was luscious and moist. "Darling! I haven't had a minute to talk to anyone here! And we were going to meet the Jacksons. I told you about him."
Jed sighed. Andrea tried to be helpful. She was always introducing him to her society friends, most of whom had no jobs, no business connections, and were as innocent as kittens about the competitive incentive campaigns that Jed handled.
"For once, couldn't we skip all that-"
"Well-well-well!" said a drawling, mocking, slurred voice. A man had stopped at the table beside them. "Mr. Jed Kingsley at his favorite occupation-making women!"
Jed glanced up with a scowl. "Where did you come from?" he barked.
Larry West fall waved a flapping hand at the room across the way. "Over there. Oh, I belong to 'he Maple-wood Country Club, I assure you! It's perfectly proper for me to play cards here."
Jed frowned. Russell Thorpe had come out of that room. Were Thorpe and Larry Westfall in the habit of playing poker together?
Larry was trying to bow to Andrea, whose polite smile was slightly stiff. "Dearest Andrea. I've heard Jed is crazy about women. And so many women are crazy 'bout him. But you, darling. Never thought a Searle would look down at her feet and find Jed Kingsley crawling around down there."
His voice was loud, arrogant. Jed kicked back his chair and stood up. He felt hotly angry. The boy was drunk, but that was no excuse.
"Get out, kid. Stay away from me," he warned Larry in a low tone. "Go sober up."
"But if I was sober, I wouldn't warn you-" Larry staggered, caught at a chair, and laughed. But his bright blue eyes were dazed, tragic somehow. "You look at women too much. You ought to keep one eye on your company." Drunkenly he lifted his hand and elaborately pressed his fingertip to his closed eyelid. "Yes, sir. One eye for the pretty girls, one for the company. And one for-for-"
Jed glared at him, his fists clenched. But he fdt puzzled, also. What was the kid driving at? Or was he too drunk to know what he was saying?
"Oh, please, send him away! This is embarrassing," whispered Andrea. "Everyone is staring at us. Send him away."
"Go away, kid," said Jed. He gave Larry a light shove. The boy staggered, off balance, his blond head wavering. He took a step backward.
Then he lurched forward again, angrily. "Hey, don't shove me! You can't shove me! Don't care if you keep both eyes on a girl. Pretty girl!" He leered at Andrea. "If I get some of your trading stamps, can I have some of her too?"
Jed knocked him down. His fist struck, the boy wobbled and went sprawling flat on his back. Andrea jumped up.
"Oh, Jed! Let's get out of here. Brawling-oh, I hate this-" She was half-crying.
Larry got up again on his feet, and came after Jed savagely. Jed shoved Andrea out of the way. The boy was easy to handle, drunken, off-balance. He fended off the blows Larry tried to make, then knocked him back into the arms of a burly waiter, coming up behind Larry.
"Get him out of here!" said Jed, angrily. "Get him away from me."
The waiter pinned Larry's arms and rushed him easily to the door. People were standing to gawp, to laugh, to stare again at Jed and Andrea.
"Let's go-let's go-" Andrea picked up her brown satin evening bag. Jed walked silently to the cloakroom desk with her, and tipped the girl for his overcoat and Andrea's mink jacket. He was silent under the soft storm of Andrea's whispered berating as they walked out into the cool April night to his car.
"No gentleman," said Andrea furiously, "no gentleman brawls like that in front of a lady. How can you act like that? I've known Larry Westfall all my life. He's just a brash kid. You didn't have to fight with him."
And on and on and on. Jed finally said, curtly, as he drove along the country road back to Pomona, "Okay, shall I take you home? Have you had enough of your roughneck fiance?"
She changed at once. She leaned against him and put her hands tightly around his arm.
"Oh, no, no, Jed! Don't be angry. I was only upset. I should have agreed to leave earlier. Only-only-" She was sobbing. "I never know what will happen next with you! We were sitting there quietly minding our business-Oh, Jed, you draw trouble! You're a-a magnet for trouble. I do believe you could be sitting alone in a church and somebody would come up and punch you in the nose and dare you to fight!"
"I wouldn't be surprised," said Jed. "But what do you expect me to do? Sit back and take it? That kid was being as insulting as he could. What should I do? Shake his hand and thank him?"
"He was drunk. He didn't know what he was saying."
"I wonder," muttered Jed. Larry Westfall playing poker, getting drunk, in the same room with Russell Thorpe. And WestfalPs cold, business-like sister, Edythe, now ran the Westfall Golden Stamps Company. When old man Westfall had died, everyone had expected their incentive business to go to pieces. Instead, beautiful Edythe Westfall, more noted for her beauty and clothes than any business ability, had taken over the management of the company and had made it boom.
Westfall Golden Stamps Company was the biggest threat in Jed's competitive life. He was beginning to believe there wasn't room for both of them in Pomona. What had Larry meant: one eye on the girls, one eye on his company? What did the boy mean? What did he know? And why was Russell Thorpe involved with one of their competitors?
Andrea was snuggling up to Jed, running her fingers over his knee in a way that soon drew his attention hack to her.
"Darling. Jed, darling. I didn't mean it, really," she said, her fingers brushing little points of fire along his thigh. "I really do love it, the way you're so different from the tame men I know. I wouldn't want you any softer, really, darling." She murmured the words in his ear, and her lips brushed against the lobe of his ear.
His spine tingled. He forgot about Larry and Russell Thorpe and business competition. When he came to the fork in the road, where the right lane led to Andrea's mansion-home on the edge of Pomona, and the left lane led to the city, he swung left. If Andrea was at last in a love-making mood, he was not going to disappoint her. He headed for his apartment.
She made no protest as he parked the car in the basement garage and they took the elevator to his penthouse apartment. Once there, he locked the door, took off their coats, and prepared for action.
Andrea sat down on the wide couch where the huge picture windows gave a breathtaking view out over Pomona. Lights twinkled from thousands of buildings and streets. The river road was outlined in a pattern of lights that swerved and curled and dipped to follow the hills and the river.
Jed turned off the lights. "Now we can see the view better," he said, rather breathlessly. He came over to her in the dimness, and sat down beside her on the couch. She leaned cautiously into his eager arms. Always cautious, always fearful, always so careful. That was Andrea.
Jed drew her closer, moved his hand slowly over her shoulder as he kissed her soft, willing mouth. Her lips were closed. He longed to hold back her head with a hard grip on the brown curly hair, choke her with sweet kisses, then knock her over on her back and take her. But that was not the way to handle Andrea.
As he kissed her, his hand roamed from her shoulder down over her arm, up again. Then it slid, as though casually, to the mound of breast, firm and satin-smooth with the satin of her dress fabric. The zipper was down her back. There was no way to slide his hand into a silky V-neck opening and touch her flesh. He pressed his hand hopefully against the satin, and wished he could strip her and make love to her naked body.
Yet this was the woman he had decided to marry. Was it vanity to want a son? A son with his own sturdiness, his six feet of height, his black, curly hair and smoky blue eyes. That was what Jed wanted. For most of his thirty years he had fought alone, to found an empire of money and position. It was a modest empire still, but it was his. Now he had come to realize that an empire could be as empty as a shack, without a son to follow and inherit. Someone outside himself, thought Jed. An extension of himself. Someone to give meaning to life, someone to live for and fight for.
"Darling, Jed, darling," whispered Andrea. Her arms went around him as he deftly manipulated her breast. His lips caressed the soft cheeks, the silky throat. She was warming, slowly, to a languid sort of passion.
His hand slid to her waist. He shifted her so she lay back in his arms. His hand brushed over her legs. She stiffened. He closed her mouth with his lips as she started to protest. His hand moved back and forth on the satin dress, down to her knees, up to her waist, to her knees once more.
Finally in her Limpness he found consent. He slid the dress up from her knees to her waist. Eagerly he touched her hare thighs with his big fingers, deftly inserted them under the stiff fabric of her girdle. He was getting impatient. He could not wait much longer.
His fingers prodded, probed. They searched, coaxed, until at last her hips moved convulsively as she lay across his knees. Boldly he ripped off the girdle, unfastening the stocking-garters, pitched the offending garment over his shoulder.
"Jed ... darling...." She was about to protest again. He swung her around to lie flat on the couch, then followed her down. He yanked his trousers down and off. As she struggled to sit up, he pushed her down and held her with eager arms and legs.
She sighed and gave in at last. Her warm legs moved, and he fitted himself to her soft curves. He had to move slowly, cautiously, but at least he was moving in the right direction. He nuzzled his head down on her breast, wishing the satin fabric could be ripped away. He longed to kiss her on her mounds of breasts, to take complete and final possession. But she must always withhold something, always remain reserved.
He -edged forward, his passions burning. She whimpered, tried to pull away. Head nuzzled on her shoulder, his hands firmly on her slender waist, he forced her to accept his caresses. His passion drove him on, and the urgency was communicated to her. Her body wiggled, pressed against him. He held her even more tightly against him.
His head was whirling with desire. He wanted, ardently wanted the soft flesh so close under him. Her reluctant body shivered against him. He rested, panting.
He waited, pulses pounding like drumbeats in his ears.
Her arms were around him. Her hands lay passively on his back. If only she would clutch at him, shriek her delight, wound him with spasms of scraping fingernails. If only she would once, once, let go and cry out-
He hit the peak and knew release, and it was a relief. But he had hit it alone, and it felt lonely.
He got up, let her sit up. In the dimness he saw her face. She looked pleased, but not very excited. Was something wrong with him that he could rarely arouse his own fiancee?
He picked up a package of cigarettes and an ashtray and came back to her. She curled up on the couch and leaned on his shoulder as he lit their cigarettes.
"Oh, darling, have I made you happy?" she murmured.
"Sure, baby. Sure."
She was smiling, complacently. If he struck her down, beat her, forced her, would she respond? What could rock her out of this calm acceptance of his most fervent passions?
Maybe it was Jed. Something wrong with him. He was a roughneck, a tough guy who had fought his way out of alleys and street gangs, into college, into business, now into society. He could change his clothes to gray flannel, but the guy underneath was still the leader of the Dukes of Blaine's Alley, he thought ruefully. He still relished a good fight, though now he had to watch them on television. He liked his women with honesty and fury and sweetness and passion, like the first girl he had ever known, down in the alley, the sister of his enemy. How she had fought him the first time, and how wildly sweet she had been later. He smiled to remember Maureen. She had been tops.
Andrea put her cigarette daintily into the ashtray. She was finished with it.
Fight. Tonight with Larry. Jed stared out the wide expanse of windows at the city he knew so well. He had fought a lot of fights, but he wasn't proud of the fight with Larry. The boy was only about twenty-three or twenty-four, a soft kid, drunk. What had he been trying to say? Keep one eye on your girl, one on your company. Why?
Was his sister about to steal an important client from Jed? Edythe Westfall had done that several times in the past couple of years, but Jed had always managed to retaliate with a few stolen clients of his own. What was Edythe about to pull now? Something new and dirtier?
He ought to get to know Edythe better, he mused. It didn't hurt to know one's enemy at close range, to be able to figure out her moves. She was a beautiful woman. It would be a pleasure to get to know her better.
"Jed. Jed? Are you listening to me?" asked Andrea plaintively.
"Sorry, darling. Thinking about business," he said, half-truthfully. He had been thinking of his business rival, but his mind had strayed to the full bust, the swaying hips, the attractive face and mysterious loneliness of that rival. "What did you say, darling?"
She pouted. Even in the darkened room he could see the pout of her red mouth. "You never hear me when I talk about our wedding. Mother says a June wedding is absolutely impossible to plan now. So I thought maybe September..
Jed flinched. He wanted marriage, a son, an heir, yes. But every time Andrea said the word "wedding," he flinched. He would have to get over his nausea at the idea of being a bridegroom puppet going through the huge ceremony that Andrea's mother wanted. It was her price for giving up her beloved daughter. He would have to pay that price sometime. But as for now-
"Darling, let's not talk," he said. He set down the ashtray on the floor, pulled her across nis lap. "I don't want to talk now. It's been so long since we've been together, I want-" His hand swept up the hem of the dress she had pulled down demurely. His fingers played skillfully on the warm thighs, the yielding flesh of her hips.
"But ... Jed ... we must ... talk...." she said weakly. He closed her mouth with a long kiss. His fingers probed, explored. She tried to avoid his touch, but his hand was too clever for that. His hand found its way up the silken inner thigh, to the secret pleasure she wanted to deny him.
"Darling," he whispered. "Sweetheart ... Andrea ... my love...."
He forced her back on the couch, crowded her against the cushions and held her down with arms and legs. Her struggles ceased, and she yielded to his attack as he rubbed his hips tantalizingly on her soft bare flesh.
"Oh, you," she murmured. "You always want your own way-"
"Always," he said, and found the warm flesh relaxing under his touch. He moved closer, pulled her firm hips nearer to him with a big hand.
"Urn," she said. "Um ... Jed ... not so ... fast ... darling."
He slowed down the pace a little, hoping she would catch up. But though he made love to her earnestly and tried all the little tricks she would allew, he could not raise her to the boiling point. Finally he swung over her, leaped to the peak alone, and retired-in triumph, but not completely satisfied.
She gave him what he wanted, what he forced her to give. But she seemed to gather no pleasure herself, and that spoiled things for him.
He took her home about one o'clock in the morning. As he unlocked the side door of the Searle family mansion for her and kissed her good night, chastely and with little passion, he wondered many things.
Was this the woman to give him a strong, passionate son? Did he love the beautiful Andrea Searle, or had he deceived himself? Did he want to be in the social whirl he had been trying so hard to enter?
Sometimes, he thought on the way home, success could be bitter. A man could work hard for what he wanted, only to find when he had achieved his goal that it was not what he wanted after all.
CHAPTER TWO
Jed had trouble getting to sleep that night. Many problems swarmed around in his head like restless hummingbees. When he finally drifted off to sleep, he slept heavily and long.
He awakened at noon, and lay in bed, half-groggy, for another hour before he got up. He drank some orange juice, made coffee. He would stay in the apartment today and work on the campaign for Ransom and Young.
He dressed in gray slacks and a black turtleneck sweater. The apartment was chilly. It was cold weather for April, with snow and icy rains. He thought fondly of the spring he had spent in Rome, sitting on the Spanish Steps in the sparkling sunlight, watching the coltish legs of young girls as they leaped past him down the steps.
Ah, those were the days. Spring, and sunshine, and sweet, saucy girls.
It was hard to concentrate on work. He spread out his business papers on the coffee table and sprawled out on the couch to consider the Ransom and Young campaign. It would be tough to sell Mr. Young on this. He was ultra-conservative. What would appeal to him that would also appeal to his customers?
Jed lay motionless on his side, gazing absently out over the city, trying to grab and hold a new, fresh, wonderful, scintillating idea that would convince an elderly, hide-bound, tough, narrow-minded fogey.
Oh, to be in Italy, now that April's here ... No. That wasn't the right quote. How did it go? Oh, yes, England. Kew Gardens after a rain. The lilacs dripping with perfume. The tulips glowing with color, and shy purple pansies peeping up from the beds of yellow tulips. And that huge tree with branches spreading out over the ground, and the children creeping in and out, having a marvelous time.
Jed writhed. Were his young gay days gone completely? He longed to pitch everything overboard, give up all he had, and take off for Europe with a single suitcase the way he had done at twenty-four. But he was thirty now, and a partner in a business firm. He had duties, responsibilities, and a fiancee.
Firmly he shoved away the thoughts of Lorna of London, Mimi of Paris, Anna of Rome. He had to think of some fresh, new, different idea for Mr. Young.
In the office file, he had put some notes. Maybe something there would help.
He swung his long legs to the floor and sat up, reaching for the phone. He dialed, gazing out at the cold gray sky, the determined battering of the rain on the wide picture windows.
"Mr. Kingsley's office," said the soft contralto voice.
"Bess, this is Jed. What's new?"
"Oh, Jed! I wondered if you would call. You have several messages."
"Okay, shoot." He frowned, scribbled on a pad as his secretary relayed the messages.
"And also Edythe Westfall phoned, several times. She wouldn't say what she wanted. She sounded rather cross, I'd say."
Jed turned alert and wary. "Yeah? Did she give her number?" He wouldn't mind a little sparring engagement with his beautiful enemy.
"No. She said she would call again."
"If she does, tell her-" Jed paused, grinned devilishly. "Tell her I'm working at home today. If she wants to come up and talk to me, I'm available."
"All right," said Bess, her tone slightly chilled. "I'll tell her."
"Something else I want, Bess," he added. "Will you get out the Ransom and Young file, and read me the notes on the small pages I stuck in there."
"Okay."
She got the file, read the notes to him. He copied what he wanted, but his mind was more preoccupied with thoughts of Edythe Westfall. What did she want? To tell him to leave her precious brother alone? To sue him for malicious attack? He was curious about her.
After he had hung up, he read over his notes, mulled the campaign over in his mind, between questioning fragments of other thoughts. The campaign should be a million-dollar one. Big incentives. Edythe was a beautiful and wealthy woman, so why wasn't she married?
Mr. Young was partial to the color pink. Something pink ... Edythe's eyes were dark blue, her hair a sunny blonde. Was she a frustrated spinster? Was she cold-blooded and masculine in nature? Or hadn't she found the right man?
Less than an hour later, the doorbell rang. He jumped up and ran across to the door. He unlocked it, opened it, stared delightedly at the gorgeous object of his thoughts: Edythe Westfall, tall, haughty, and dripping wet.
"Come in, Miss Westfall," he said, holding the door wide open.
"I'm soaked," she announced curtly, as though it were somehow his fault. "This umbrella-" She held it out and away from her smart powder-blue knit dress an silver-blue fur jacket.
"I'll put it in the kitchen," he said, and took the wet umbrella from her. "Come on in. Nasty day," he added helpfully.
"Horrid!"
He took the umbrella to the kitchen and opened it to drip op the floor. As he came back, she sneezed, three times, violently.
"Hey, you're cold." He took the wet fur jacket and draped it over a chair. "Kick off your shoes. Stand near the radiator and get dry."
She did not look so aloof and haughty as she stood shivering in her stocking feet near the radiator. She rubbed her hands together and blew on them.
"How about some coffee?" he suggested.
"F-fine. I'm f-frozen! I never dreamed it could be so cold in April."
He brought back the coffee pot and cups from the kitchen.
"Would you like a bit of brandy in it? Warm you up," he said. He wasn't sure how she would take that kind of suggestion.
"Oh, l-lovely," she moaned, her teeth chattering. "Oooh, this heat feels good."
He poured a shot of brandy into her cup, added the coffee, and gave it to her. By the time she had swallowed it, and walked back to a chair in her stocking feet, he felt he knew a lot more about Edythe Westfall. For one thing, she was a human being, not a machine.
He brought a blanket and tucked it around her as she sat down. She promptly curled up in the chair, her feet under her, shivering. He took the opportunity to observe at closer range the perfection of her creamy pink and white skin, the blondeness of her upswept hair (no rinse, no betraying dark roots), the wideness of the dark blue eyes, the fringe of her brown eyelashes, the fullness of her well-developed bustline, the curve of her hips and waist emphasized by the knit dress.
"Is that better?" he asked solicitously as he tucked the blanket again, unnecessarily, around her feet and thighs.
"Fine. Thanks very much. I can manage. Don't bother." She took the top edge of the blanket out of his hands and tucked it around her shoulders.
Reluctantly he retreated to the couch. For the first time, he remembered the campaign pages laid out, all his notes and files. He gathered them up and put them neatly in a pile. He did not believe she had looked at them, though he had been out of the room several times. "Homework?" she asked.
He glanced at her suspiciously. "That's right. I can think better when I'm alone."
"I'm sorry I bothered you-"
"I didn't-mean that! I'm glad you came up."
"I hate to bother you ... but...." She was biting her red lips. His gaze caressed those lips. She had a perfect mouth, the lower lip rather wide and bowed, the upper lip curved and sensitive.
"A matter of business?" he asked helpfully. "Is the Perkins campaign too much for you? Sorry you stole them from us?"
Her eyes sparked with fire at his unexpected taunt. "Not at all. We are quite capable of managing that!" She was back to normal.
"You haven't had any trouble with Perkins, then? He hasn't okayed an idea, then backed out on it after the work has gotten a good start?"
Her dark blue eyes met his. Hers were blazing, but wary.
"I didn't come up here to discuss our business rivalry, Mr. Kingsley."
"Oh?" So it was about Larry. "Call me Jed," he said, "since we're going to be friends."
"I didn't say-"
Deliberately he provoked her further. "If we aren't going to be friends, give me back my blanket."
She stared at him. Then she flung back her head and laughed, a youthful peal of gaiety. "Oh, you're a devil," she said, relaxing. She laid her head back comfortably on the chair as he grinned at her.
"That's better. If you had glared at me one more minute, I'd be frozen into a poor, thin icicle."
Her nose wrinkled into a tiny grimace, which smoothed away in a moment. He watched her face alertly for the quick changes of expression which betrayed her feelings. She was a fascinating woman, and he wanted to know her better.
"We can't very well be friends, Mr. Kingsley, but I-"
"Call me Jed."
She hesitated, then went on, "All right, Jed. But I wanted to ask you about-about my brother Larry. I understand you two had a fight last night."
"Hardly a fight. He was drunk and insulting. I knocked him down."
"What did he say exactly?" Lashes shadowed the dark blue eyes.
"I don't recall the exact words," he evaded. "He was drunk, and prodded me about women."
"Do you mind that much being prodded about women? I thought you were-famous-for your interest in women." Her voice was more than a little sarcastic.
"I'm interested in women, sure." Jed leaned back and appraised what he could see of her more boldly. She flushed, and drew the blanket around her shoulders where it had slipped down.
"Did he say anything about business?"
"Nothing special." He wanted to think over privately what Larry had said about keeping one eye on business. "Do you know Russell Thorpe, my partner?"
She jerked noticeably. Her flushed face paled to creamy white. Her wide blue eyes stared in alarm.
"Who?"
"Russell Thorpe. Do you know him?"
"I've met him, yes."
He was puzzling over her intense reaction. "I saw Russell come out of the same room that Larry was in. Do they play poker together a great deal?"
"Poker?" she asked, as though in a daze.
"Yeah. Poker."
"I-didn't realize-maybe that's-" She bit her lower lip. Her lashes lowered over the betraying blue eyes. She was silent for a few minutes. He did not interrupt her thoughts. Evidently she had received a shock.
She sighed, stretched, sat up and swung her feet to the floor.
"Are you warmer now?" he asked.
"All except my feet. They are ice-cold." She leaned over to rub them.
Daringly, he came over to sit on the floor beside her chair. He took one long, slender, stockinged foot in his hands. "I'll rub them for you," he said, as though he did this every day. "Say, your foot is cold. And your stockings are wet. Want to take them off?" He rubbed her foot briskly, with a masseur's impersonal touch.
"Oh, no, it's all right. I really ought to go." She tried to pull the foot away.
His mind buzzed quickly for some idea to keep her here. She was a darned attractive woman, and he wondered how far she would let him go with her. Unmarried, about twenty-six, beautiful, and immersed in the business world, Edythe probably had plenty of passion in cold storage.
"This weather is awful. I've been wishing I could hop off to Italy," he said, rubbing her slender foot with both hands.
"Italy. Have you been in Italy?" She stopped pulling at her foot.
"Yes, one winter. I lived in a pension near the Spanish Steps. Used to sit there and try to sketch. I was no good, but that sunshine felt wonderful."
"I was there once," she said slowly. She leaned back in the chair, her head against the tall, cushioned back. "Oh, it was heavenly."
That was all the cue he needed. "Tell me about it," he encouraged. "When were you there?" He took the other foot in his hands and started rubbing that one.
"Four years ago. I was twenty-two," she said. "I had wanted to spend my junior year abroad. College, you know. But father wouldn't hear of it. Oh, how he raged. Called me a beatnik and an adventuress-" She laughed a little, sadly. "Father was the only person who ever thought I had any sense of adventure in me. And he didn't like that at all."
"How did you get to Europe, then?"
A smile curved her lips, a mischievous, musing grin, that soon flickered away. "After I had graduated, several of the girls decided to go abroad for the summer. Our parents had collective fits. Oh-my mother died when I was ten. Larry was seven. But we girls were determined to go with or without permission, and threatened to get jobs abroad. So finally the parents let us go
-with one chaperon apiece. Horrors."
He laughed, looking up at her as she grimaced daintily. "I'll bet you got away from yours."
"No. Not at first, that is," she said. "The girls were furious. Finally we arrived in Rome. I loved it. I wandered off alone, shook off my jailer, and got off by myself. Oh, I loved that week. When the time came to go, I sat on my suitcase and refused to get on the plane. Dreadful scene at the Rome airport." She chuckled wickedly. "I had a little money, and I told them to go ahead. I would follow in a few days. Finally they left, weeping. I think the other girls wept because they were jealous."
"Wow. So you stayed on in Rome alone." His hands swept slowly over the warming foot, up to the knee, casually, then down again.
"Yes. Dad was enraged. He wrote. Then he sent wires. Then he phoned. I refused to return. I had found a little job, doing some typing for a professor, and it was just enough to pay for my room and food. Each day, after I finished work, I walked back to the Spanish Steps and sat there, and dreamed...." She sighed, deeply, staring out the windows. She scarcely seemed to remember he was there.
"I was crazy about Rome," he encouraged softly. His hand caressed her knee under the woolen dress. "I used to walk all around those streets out from the Spanish Steps, over to the Via del Corso and the river, the Piazza del Popolo. Do you know that coffee shop on the corner-"
"Oh, yes-yes-all around there. I walked and walked. And I met a man-" She paused, her dark eyes dreamy. "An Italian. An artist. Someone like I'd never known before." She glanced down at him. Her face was suddenly wary, cautious. "But everyone meets someone in Rome, isn't that right?" she finished flippantly.
He was fascinated. So she had had an Italian lover.
"How long were you in Rome?" he asked, his hand caressing her knee, and up above it to a warm, pliant thigh. He was a lucky guy. In less than an hour he had figured out the cue to this girl who had puzzled him. If he could just work on her, get her to remember her lover, get her warmed up and eager and passionate....
"Five weeks. Then father sent Larry to get me." Unexpectedly she bubbled with laughter. "Oh, that was so-so funny-Father never dreamed-Larry. I had written to him, what a marvelous time-Well, Larry flew to Paris. He met a girl there, and phoned me that he had a room on the Left Bank with this girl. I howled! It was so funny."
"It didn't take him long to get settled," said Jed. His hand roamed daringly, a little higher. Her thighs were warm, and she moved her legs a bit to let his hand go up farther. He had the impression that she was not consciously aware of what he was doing to her.
"So Father flew over to get both of us. He picked up Larry in Paris, came down to Rome for me, tucked us both under his arms and flew us back home. Oh, he was so mad. He told us over and over what we had cost him. Not just money, he said. We had ruined a deal he was working on. Interfered with his work. That was always the cardinal sin. To interfere with Father's work." Her tone was cold and bitter now.
Jed leaned his head against the blanket that still covered her knees. His fingers were working cunningly closer.
"So what did he do with you?"
"Larry was late going back to college. So to punish him, Father made him work in the office till February, when the next semester began. I was punished with a year of solid boredom. He put me under a woman who specialized in debutantes, and I went to one coming-out party after another. It was so dull, so horrible. When it was over, and I was still not engaged to anyone, father put me in the office and began teaching me the business. A year later, he died in the crash of the company plane, and the business was left to me, and to Larry, of course."
"Larry isn't much help, I gather."
She stirred restlessly, as though the touch of his fingers was beginning to rouse her. "Not much at present. Oh, he makes contacts. He knows people," she said vaguely.
"He's a bit wild now," said Jed, to comfort her. "But he'll settle down and take over some of the work one day. He has good stuff in him."
"Yes. I suppose so." Unexpectedly she stood up. He fell back, intensely disappointed, and watched her as she shed the blanket and straightened her dress. She stepped into her shoes.
"They're still wet," he said, hopefully. She had been softening, warming to his hands. A few more minutes-
"I must go," she said. "But I want to ask a favor of you, Jed."
So that was why she had let him go that far. He sighed, and marked her down as a little smarter than he had calculated. "What favor, Edythe?"
She looked down at him thoughtfully as he sat on the floor. His gaze traveled appreciatively over the long, smooth legs, the slim thighs and rounded waist, the full bust neatly outlined by the powder-blue knit dress. It was a lovely view, culminating in her pretty face and smooth blonde hair.
"I wish you would be nice to Larry. He wants to break out now and then. I can't blame him. But when he's drinking, will you ignore him? Don't pay any attention to what he says."
"You mean, not slug him?" Jed stood up lazily. He was six feet tall. In her heels, she was just a couple of inches shorter than he. They would make a nice couple in bed, he thought hopefully. He could imagine her long slender legs pressed close to his body, the swing of her hips under his, the soft tender touch of her naked-
"Not just that," said Edythe. "I mean, avoid him when he's drunk. He's unhappy. He says things he doesn't mean."
"I'll try." He wondered what it was she did not want him to discuss with Larry. His keen curiosity was aroused. "I'll give it a try."
"Thank you." She smiled, and reached for her fur jacket. He took it, wrapped it around her lingeringly.
"When will I see you again?" he asked. "We have a lot in common, you know. Italy, and all that."
"Oh, I should forget Italy," she said lightly. "It makes me dissatisfied and restless. I keep wanting to hop a ship or a plane. No, I'd better forget about Italy."
"You can't bottle yourself up forever," he said.
"You can't forget to live. You can't ignore love and dreams. They are too important."
She moved to the door. "So is business," she said, curtly.
"Don't forget your umbrella," he said. He went to the kitchen for it, brought it back to her. "Come up again sometime, or better yet why don't we-"
"I must go," she interrupted him hastily. "I hadn't realized it was so late. Thanks for everything. Good-by." She snatched the umbrella from him, dashed out the door and over to the elevator.
He watched her go, feeling frustrated, curious and elated all at once. He knew her better. He wanted to know more. A lot more. If he could arouse her, break down the ice barrier around her, she would be a woman to love and remember, he felt sure of that.
CHAPTER THREE
The following week, Jed kept expecting to see Edythe again, or at least her brother Larry. Edythe had aroused his curiosity and his desires. He got edgy and impatient as day after day went by without a word from them or sight of them. They could not simply disappear.
Pomona was a moderate-sized city of 200,000 people. A person could lose himself in it if he tried. But normally Jed ran into the same crowd whenever he went out, his business associates, his clients, his rivals, and Andrea's society friends. Here in this Midwestern city, everyone knew everyone. If a guy got tired of the crowd and wanted to meet someone new, he moved to another city.
Jed had a date with Andrea again for Saturday night. He refused to go again to the Maplewood Country Club.
"Let's go dancing. The Midtown Hotel has a good orchestra."
"But darling," she said plaintively over the phone. Her voice always sounded higher-pitched and shrill on the telephone. "The Club has an orchestra. We could dance there. And I want you to meet some friends of mine."
"That's exactly why I don't want to go to the club," he growled. "We'll run into some more friends of yours, and we'll do nothing but chatter to people all night."
"If you don't care for my friends-" she said, her high voice chilly.
"I didn't say that." He rubbed his hand over his curly hair, and tried to soften his tone. "I only meant I like to be alone with you now and then, just the two of us."
"In your apartment, for example," said Andrea coldly. "Sometimes I wonder if you really love me!"
He wondered the same, but decided not to express his feelings along that line. He was confused enough in his love life. He had chased Andrea until he had caught her, but now she was caught he wasn't sure he still wanted her. As for being faithful to her, his interest in other women was undiminished.
The silence between them grew awkwardly long. Andrea finally broke it, her voice very sweet and forgiving.
"All right, darling, we'll do as you say. The Mid-town Hotel. I'll wear my new formal. I think you'll adore it. It's green, and very smart."
"Okay, Andrea. I'll pick you up at eight, then. Thanks, sweet," he added. She could be very generous. He was probably a stupid brute not to appreciate her.
He lounged around the apartment the remainder of the day. He had wanted to work on campaign plans, but every time he sat down to start work he thought of Edythe again. He gazed at the chair where she had curled up, the blanket over her. When he had sat at her feet, and rubbed his hands over her cold feet and legs, he had felt excitement and tension as though he were close to some high voltage. Her perfume had been strong and heady, none of that mild, sticky, sweet stuff, but something that enveloped her in a cloud of rich, sensuous odors.
He tried again and again to get some work done, but finally gave up, and lay back on the couch. He closed his eyes and pretended she was there, leaning over him, her face serious and solemn, the way it had been when she talked about Italy. Excitement sparkled in her dark blue eyes. She leaned closer, kissed his mouth lingeringly. He drew her down to him, ran his hands over her naked thighs.
"Um," sighed Jed, stretching luxuriously. He wished he had a girl with him right now. Any girl, but especially Edythe. Sometimes he wanted a woman so much he ached. Would his desires let up when he got older? If they did, he would have plenty of memories to comfort him in his declining years. He was doing his best to get a variety of experiences while young.
He was plenty keyed up when he went out that night for the date with Andrea. If he hadn't pushed the dancing bit so hard, he would have urged her to come right back to his apartment with him.
But when he went in for her at her house, the sight of her stopped him cold. She was regal and unapproachable in a full-length satin sheath dress of emerald green. The dress was so beaded and sequined that he would have trouble dancing with her in comfort, to say nothing of enjoying the sly touch of her knee or breast.
"How do you like it, darling?" she smiled. "Mummie helped me pick it out."
"Mummie" was watching complacently as Jed helped Andrea into her fur jacket. He was not in incentive promotional campaigns for no reason. He ran through a mental dictionary of words that could be used to describe his reactions honestly without offending Andrea or her mother.
"Stunning," he finally said. "It's simply stunning."
They both beamed. He managed to get Andrea into the car without ripping the dress. The skirt was so narrow she would scarcely walk. He wondered how in the world she expected to dance in it.
At the hotel, he soon found the answer. She did not expect to dance much. She expected to sit still and be admired, to receive friends and gush over feminine enemies, secure in the knowledge that she looked stunning. Jed sat back in his chair beside her, his foot tapping involuntarily to the catchy music, and planned various fitting manners of rape and mayhem on his pretty fiancee.
"Oh, there's Larry Westfall," she said, frowning, in an interlude when no one was at their table. "No, don't look at him, Jed. He behaved terribly the other night, and I haven't forgiven him."
Jed felt the first spark of interest he had known all evening. He studied Larry Westfall, who was seated across the room with an attractive black-haired girl who laughed and giggled.
"Who is she?" asked Jed.
Andrea condescended to look. "I don't know her. We haven't met."
Sometimes Andrea could be thoroughly maddening.
"Any ideas?" he persisted. "Have you heard who he's dating?"
Andrea shrugged, a major feat in the tight-fitting sheath. "He dates loads of girls. Never any one girl for long. He's like his sister."
Jed pricked up his ears. "Oh, is Edythe like that too?"
"Sure. On again, off again. One winter I remember we kept running into each other and I counted. I told Mummie Edythe was with a different man every single time I met her."
"It's a wonder she didn't run out of men," said Jed.
"There are the Joneses. Oh, Polly-Polly-hi, darling I"
The Joneses stopped at their table. Jed was introduced.
"Oh, we can't sit down. Our table is ready. What an adorable dress," gushed Polly Jones. Jed and Mr. Jones, whoever he was, smiled painfully at each other and stood for fifteen minutes while the girls visited for a minute.
Finally they left. Andrea sighed with satisfaction. "I knew it. I knew she had married badly," she said. "How did you know? He seemed nice enough." Jed hadn't cared for the fellow, but to have a fellow suffering male attacked so suddenly made his hackles rise.
"Oh, Jed. He's nobody. Just a man in a bank. Just a cashier."
"T hate to disillusion you, Andrea," he said, suppressing a grin. "But in modern-day banking, a cashier is a bank official, rather high up, also."
"Oh," she said blankly. "I thought cashiers stood at windows and made change."
"Those are bank tellers." He looked across at Larry. He and the black-haired girl were getting up to dance. "Let's dance, Andrea, before someone else comes."
He caught her off guard, and she stood up when he did. She smiled sweetly as he took her in his arms. But she whispered, "Jed, be careful. Don't go fast. This dress is so tight."
It was tight. She could scarcely move her feet. Dancing was an awkward business, with Andrea worried about her dress. And Jed could not find a comfortable place to put his hand on her. The back and waist were covered with sharp metal and glass. He fumed inside.
They paused near the table where Larry and his girl were seated, when Andrea had some trouble with a heel catching in her hem. Jed looked curiously at the blond-haired boy. He wasn't drunk tonight. On impulse, Jed danced Andrea closer to the table.
Larry stood up when they paused.
"Hi, Larry," said Jed casually.
The boy's face was flushed. "Hi. Say, Andrea, I want to apologize for the other night. Don't remember what I said, but I was drunk."
"It's all right, Larry," she said, in a chill voice that said he was not forgiven.
He introduced the girl, who looked Jed over with frank interest. Jed wanted to sit down with them and talk. But Larry did not invite them, and Andrea pulled Jed away.
Out of earshot, Andrea scolded him. "Really, Jed. You ought to avoid Larry. He's a troublemaker."
"I just wanted to talk to him." Jed glanced back at the couple. He was surprised to see them leaving. Funny. You might suppose Larry wanted to avoid him. Jed's eyes narrowed in speculation.
They sat down again, and Jed fumed as he saw another couple approaching. He waited till they had chattered and gushed and finally left. Then he said:
"Let's go, Andrea. Let's go back to my place. We can't be alone anywhere in this town. You know everybody."
She smiled, gratified. "I do know everybody, darling. I can help you a lot if you'll let me."
He bit back words, managed to say nicely, "But I want to be alone with you once in a while."
"All right, darling. Let's do go. I have something to talk over with you also."
That stiffened his back. At the apartment, he took her jacket and laid it aside. But when he tried to draw her over to the couch, she refused.
"No, darling," she said, decisively, and sat down in a straight chair. "We simply must talk. I've promised Mummie."
He had been frustrated, bored, on edge all evening. He was in no mood for anything but a healthy dose of love. He sprawled on the couch and said savagely:
"Okay, what have you promised Mummie?"
"That I would talk to you and we'd set the wedding date. She has started a list of people to invite, but she says you simply have no idea what planning a wedding involves. She thought a September wedding could be arranged if we hurry a bit. That would be lovely, wouldn't it, darling? I must have at least four bridesmaids, maybe six if I have to invite my cousins. They could wear autumn colors, and the flowers could be the gorgeous autumn flowers."
"I can't make plans for September," he evaded. "There's a big deal that may take me out of town that month."
"Oh, really, Jed! You are infuriating," she said, in cold lady-like tones. "I think Mummie is right. You're putting us off."
"I had not planned to marry your mother," Jed retorted.
That precipitated it. They quarreled for half an hour, trading insults. Jed knew he was going too far, but his own confused feelings were too much for him to hide. He did not want a huge society wedding. He was not even sure he wanted to marry Andrea.
"If you don't want to marry me, say so!" she finally cried out, big tears in her green eyes. All the time he had been pacing around the apartment, she had been seated on the straight chair, back erect, hands folded in her lap. If she had jumped up, yelled, thrown a vase at him, he would have suggested eloping at once. But not Andrea-no fury of passion for her.
"I can't make plans right now," he said, coming to a halt before her. "There are some business problems I've got to work out before I get married."
"What problems?" she asked, alertly. "I could help. Or Grandmother could. She wants to help you-she said so."
"Not with these problems." He studied her, decided against confiding in her. She talked too much. "No, we'll have to wait."
She stood up, strode to the closet, got her fur jacket, and put it on. Then she swung majestically to face him.
"You don't trust me. You have insulted my mother. You won't name a wedding date. And you never want to do what I want to do. I'm leaving! When you apologize to me, I may consider marrying you. But I'm not at all sure about that."
"Oh, come on, Andrea," he urged, starting toward her. He waited all stirred up. He had waited all day to get her to his apartment. "Let's stop fighting."
"You mean start making love. That's all you want, all you ever want," she said tearfully. She flung open the door. "I'm going home."
"All right. All right. I'll get the car," he said angrily.
"Don't bother! I'll get a taxi." She slammed the door in his face. He heard her high heels clattering to the elevator.
"Oh, hell and fire and damnation," he cussed. Here he was, all stirred up, and no woman around. He kicked at a chair, sent it over. He went over to his desk and got out his black notebook.
He ruffled the pages. His notebook was getting out of date. He had not used it much since he had become engaged to Andrea. The only new name in it was his secretary's, Bess Cridland. Each of his secretaries lasted about one year. He picked them for beauty and willingness, but after about a year of willingness, each girl seemed to reach the same conclusion-that there was no future marriage-wise with Jed Kingsley.
Bess had been with him only six months. And she could be very lovable. On impulse, he dialed her number.
Her husky, soft, contralto voice answered.
"Bess, this is Jed."
"Oh-hello."
"Are you in bed?"
"No, I was only beginning to think about going to bed."
"Why don't you come over to my apartment and think about it here?"
There was a slight pause. He gripped the phone, willing her to come, wishing he could hypnotize a girl into coming to him whenever he wanted one.
"Why-all right, Jed," she said, her voice huskier and seductive. "I'll be over in a few minutes."
"I'll come for you."
"No, don't bother. I have my car."
"Park it in the garage next to mine. And Bess?"
"Yes?"
"Don't bother to dress up. Come as you are."
She laughed, deep in her throat. "Okay, Jed. I'll be right there."
She hung up. He went to the bedroom, stripped, put on a robe. He might as well be ready when she came.
She was there in twenty minutes. When he took her coat, he saw she was wearing black slacks and a tight black sweater.
"You said not to dress," she reminded him.
The black sweater outlined full, rich breasts. He put his hand on one breast and squeezed it through the wool material. She wasn't wearing anything tight underneath, and he could feel the warmth and resiliency of the apple-shaped globe.
"Bess, I'm about crazy for a woman," he confessed at once. "Can we skip the preliminaries and go to bed?"
Her smile was free of coyness. "Sure, Jed. A woman has hungers, too." She caught his hand and pressed his fingers.
He gave a sigh of relief and satisfaction. He led her into the bedroom, and helped her undress. The black sweater was slipped over her head. A thin white T-shirt was all she wore under it. She unzipped the slacks, and he pulled them down impatiently. She kicked off her shoes and sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat beside her, and pulled off the T-shirt.
Her full, rich breasts sprang out of the clothing like fruit for his picking. He pushed her back on the bed and bent over her. He cupped a breast in his palm and lowered greedy lips to the warm flesh. As he kissed and caressed the flesh he desired, he felt her hands on his head, her fingers thrusting through the black curly hair. He settled down to enjoy the session. She was willing, passionate, and he was more than ready.
He nuzzled at her body, kissing the flesh, roaming around the full white breasts, lifting a breast to kiss moist flesh under the bobbing globe. His hand roamed downward to her waist. He smoothed the flesh, then thrust his fingers under the panty-girdle to grip the edge of the garment and pull it downward. She lifted her hips to help him get the garment to her thighs, to her knees. He sat up, pulled off the girdle and stockings.
Then he gazed at the body stretched out before him, ready for his pleasure. Long, brown, curly hair to her shoulders framed a lovely oval face and dark brown eyes. Her throat was white, a fascinating pulse beat in the hollow at the base of her throat. He bent to kiss it, and the pulse-beat increased in rapidity.
Her hands went to the sash of his robe. He let her unfasten it, open the robe, put her hands teasingly on his waist. Her fingers roamed over his hairy chest, tracing the muscle to below his waist as he kissed her throat and nuzzled again at her breasts.
"Jed-Jed-" she whispered huskily.
Her fingers explored, caressed, wandered freely. This was the way he loved a woman-ready, willing, overflowing with passion to match his.
He sat up against the tall headboard of the bed and drew her to sit on his knees. She smiled, facing him and put her arms around his neck. She knew this game. They had played it before.
She put her face down on his neck and kissed his throat. He drew her closer. His hands lifted her and set her in place on his lap. He let her down slowly, squeezing, caressing the springy flesh.
He felt a jolt as they came together. She nestled closer. He held her tighter, and his flesh became inflamed with a welcoming, mysterious fever. This was what he wanted. This was his desire.
They held each other tightly, hands exploring, titillating, to increase pleasure. Her lips nibbled wetly at his neck. He felt her mouth burning his flesh. He put his face down into the softness where her throat Joined her shoulder, and kissed the fragrance of her body.
Closer, harder, more deeply they aroused each other. Her breath panted from her mouth. He heard his own ragged breaths as he began to move her on his strong thighs. Her arms closed convulsively around his neck, her sighs rumbled against his throat.
Flesh rubbed against flesh. Her breasts were crushed against his hard chest. He felt the pointed, licking flames as she rubbed deliberately. Her hips shivered in his hands as he moved her.
Their bodies were trembling. She cuddled closer. Her knees jerked. She cried out, and kissed his throat.
He pulled her hard, held her tight, as he climbed high into the mountains of heat and fire. He crashed on the peak, and shuddered in a wild ecstasy of release. At the same time she was calling his name and collapsing limply in his arms.
They lay across the bed to recover. This was only the beginning, thought Jed. He had wanted a woman all week.
He soon wanted her again. He rolled over, bent over her hungrily, drew her into his arms. She smiled, eyes still closed, and stretched lazily as he began to kiss her again.
The breasts stood up tautly, the swollen apples ripe. He kissed the red cherry-tips of the swollen breasts. Here was what he needed. He kissed her shoulders and arms, down to her waist. Under his expert lips, she moved in a slow pattern of rising desire.
He pretended to tire, and lay back. As he had hoped, she raised up, bent eagerly over him.
"Jed," she begged. "Don't stop. Don't stop now-"
He laughed up at her teasingly. "If you want more, help yourself. There's plenty."
"Oh ... you ... devil...." She accepted the challenge and swung. He gripped her waist and pulled her close to him. He grinned up at her, at the frowning, serious, intent, beautiful face of the woman above him. He watched the breasts bob heavily as she moved. They melted together. She crouched down to achieve the satisfaction of her roused desires.
He reached for a breast, pulled it down to his mouth. He kissed it as she lay on him. She was all woman, passion, fire, hunger, depths, mystery. He wanted her, needed her, to complete himself.
Presently he rolled her over, and urged her to finish. The finish was also the beginning of more. More and more, desire and fire, caresses and embraces, wild cries and panting breath, and sighs of satisfaction.
CHAPTER FOUR
Bess Cridland stayed with Jed most of the next day, and made the weekend delightful.
But Monday morning at the office, he had to face again the same baffling unsolved problems that had exasperated him last week.
Jed sat back in his swivel chair, comparing inventory statements of the past year against those of previous years. They simply did not make sense. He had made some rough estimated comparisons, and, if his conclusions were borne out, approximately $10,000 worth of goods had vanished in smoke.
Jed cursed in the empty office. The door opened. Bess looked in.
"Did you call, Jed?"
"No," he said. "Or-yes! Come in and shut the door."
She came in, walked over to the desk. To see her standing there so quietly, looking neat and precise as usual in a brown checked dress with prim white collar and cuffs, one might not suspect how good she could be at making love.
"What is it, Jed?" she asked.
He swung around in the chair and drew her down in his lap. "I need a bracer, Bess. How about it?" His hand rested on her knee, ready to pull up the checked skirt.
She shook her head at him, her mouth stern, but her eyes mischievous. "In the office? What if someone came in?"
"I'll take that chance."
Her weight on his lap, and the way she was wiggling on his knees, aroused him swiftly. He pulled up the skirt to her waist, pulled up the slip. He opened his trousers, yanked down her girdle. She adjusted herself on his knees. His hands lifted her, lowered her gently.
"Um," she said. "Um-oh-oh-easy, Jed!"
He did it slowly. She cuddled into his arms, and he held her close and tight. When they were nestled close, he swung the chair around, around and around, laughing in her ear as she squealed. Her hips jiggled, she clasped his arms as they held her, and tried to pull away. He let her move a few inches, then pulled her back. His flesh moved easily against hers, became enveloped in warmth.
He nuzzled his head down against her neck and kissed the soft places under her ear. She leaned back, breathing in short panting breaths. Her mouth was open, her eyes closed tightly as he swung them around again.
"Oooh, JVd. Oooh-oooh-Jed."
He closed his own eyes as red lights began to blaze and dim his vision. She was sweet, oh, she was loving and giving. Fire was consuming him, flames licking through his thighs and back. It sent him soaring to the peak, orbiting into outer space in a roaring, blazing fire of passion.
When he recovered, he kissed her, and caressed her in gratitude. "You're a wonderful girl, Bess. Just perfect"
She smiled, and kissed his mouth lingeringly. She had stars in her eyes. He had better look out, not depend on her too much, he thought, watching her stand up and pull the girdle back in place to hide the white, throbbing flesh of her hips. She leaned over to straighten her stockings. He caressed the flank of her thigh as she stuck it provocatively close to him.
But when she had left the office, he was alone with the papers, and the inventory made no more sense than before.
If anyone but Dan Foust were in charge of the warehouse, Jed would have begun immediately to suspect the warehouse boys of stealing. With Dan there, that answer was out. Dan simply was incapable of stealing from Jed.
However, Jed reflected, it wouldn't hurt to have a talk with Dan, tell him the blunt truth, find out what Le had to say. He hadn't had a good talk with Dan for quite a while.
He called the warehouse. Dan answered. "I have to go down to the docks for some freight right now," said Dan ."How about meeting 'his evening, about eight, at the warehouse?"
Jed frowned, about to object. Why did Dan want to stay at the warehouse so late? Then he reconsidered. Dan was smart and cautious. He had always been that way, since the days when he and Jed had messed around the same neighborhood as boys. Dan probably had a good reason to meet him at the warehouse.
Jed did not go home after work. He had worked until six, his schedule messed up by a long-drawn-out conference with Russell Thorpe and some ad men in the afternoon. Russell had been at his blandest, refusing to make decisions, letting the conference turn into a tumultuous free-for-all. Jed walked out of the conference at five-fifteen, knowing that Russell was smirking after him.
Jed headed for a nearby bar, intending to get a sandwich and a couple of drinks, to wash away the anger and confusion he felt. Once inside the darkened room, he walked to a seemingly-empty booth at the back.
The booth was occupied by one man, hunched over a drink. Jed was about to walk away to a seat at the bar, when he recognized the man. On impulse he sat down in the booth opposite Larry Westfall.
"Hi, kid," he said calmly, as Larry raised his blond head and stared blankly at him. "The other booths are taken. And I need a couple drinks after a hard, hard day."
"Oh-yeah, sure," said Larry, blinking. "Need a couple drinks. Yeah."
He wasn't drunk. He was nursing a tall glass of Scotch and water, but the ice was melting in the glass.
His unfocused attention seemed due more to some inner turmoil than any drinks.
The waiter came over. "Scotch and water," said Jed. "And bring me a couple of hamburgers and a side platter of french fries."
Larry did not order. He was thin and lanky, his face pallid. Jed surveyed him with keen interest. He would guess that the thinness was due to neglect of food, the pallor due to neglect of exercise. What was wrong with the boy? He had a reputation as something of a playboy, but not as a worried, neurotic, spoiled kid.
"I sure need a drink," Jed said, making talk, waiting for something to connect, as the talk of Italy had connected with Edythe. "Rough day. Lousy conference to finish it."
Larry seemed to rouse out of his private hell. "Yeah? That's tough. I hate conferences."
"I'd rather do all the work myself," said Jed, as his drink was set before him, "than sit and listen to a lot of yapping." He took a long swig of the cold drink, and felt better as it turned warm in his stomach. He started relaxing, moving his shoulders to ease the ache of sitting hunched in a conference chair for four hours. "Russell Thorpe ought to be able to organize a simple ad campaign without yakking all day."
The indiscreet reference to Thorpe struck a spark in Larry, as Jed meant it to do.
"Thorpe? Yeah. He knows how to organize all right," said Larry, sharply. He picked up a cigarette with trembling fingers, and drew a long drag. "He knows, all right"
"Lots of experience in campaigns," said Jed idly, watching the approach of his hamburgers. "Say, how about some hamburgers with me, kid?"
"I don't care," said Larry.
"Two more hamburgers," said Jed, briskly. He bit into his enthusiastically. "Say, that's good."
Larry picked up one, ate it as though he scarcely knew what he was doing.
"That Russell Thorpe," said Jed, in a mildly complaining tone. "I do the work and he calls the conferences. I get fed up with the set-up. Why do some guys get stuck with all the work? I ask you."
"Some guys are clever, that's all," Larry's tone was dull. He finished his hamburger as the waiter brought the second plate.
The french fries were hot and crisp.
"Dig in," said Jed.
The boy ate mechanically. Jed tried to think of some way to get him to talk and say something revealing.
"Your sister came to see me about a week ago," Jed finally said rashly.
The boy came awake in a hurry. He sat up stifflv. "Sis? What did she want?"
"She was worried about you. She had heard about me knocking you down at the Club."
A dull red flush climbed to Larry's cheekbones. The dark blue eyes, so like his sister's, watched Jed sharply.
"She fusses," said Larry. "I told her it was nothing."
Jed took another french fry, and crunched it as though indifferent to the subject. "She seemed worried about you. Have you been helling around, sowing wild oats? I did at your age."
"I-no-well, yes. You might say so. I-play poker."
"Yeah? My vice at the time was dice. Gotten in debt?"
The boy jerked. He took another cigarette, then forgot to light it. "Yeah. That's it. Poker debts. Keeps me strapped for cash."
"I get the picture," said Jed, getting another picture entirely, and puzzled by it. The boy confessed too freely. So that wasn't his real problem. "If you get too hard up, and your sister won't let you have more, come to me. Glad to let you have some cash. I know from experience the wild-oats years go fast, and then a guy settles down and gets dull and respectable."
"Thanks. Uh-I won't need any now, but thanks. Maybe another time." Larry was pale again. He drained the glass, stumbled out of the booth. "Thanks for the food. I-ah-I'll see you around."
"Sure. Good-bye." Jed lifted a casual hand in farewell, and watched Larry go out into the night. Crazy mixed-up kid. What in hell had gone wrong? Poker debts, hell. He was in worse trouble than that. Something was eating deep into his guts.
Jed stayed at the bar until close to eight o'clock, then drove out to the company warehouse. He wondered again why Dan Foust was working so late. Nobody had asked him to keep late hours. They didn't have any huge shipments due that Jed knew about.
He parked in the huge lot, pulling up near the side entrance. The guard raised his hand to him. Jed waved, and went on in the side door. The office that Dan Foust used was near the side entrance, so he could oversee the unloading of freight from trucks.
Dan was sitting in the office, a cup of coffee at hand on his bare, scratched desk. Jed walked in.
"Hi, Danny."
"Jed. Pull up a chair."
Dan Foust was grateful to Jed for the warehouse job, but he did not blab about it, thought Jed, as he pulled up a rocking chair. They had been boys together. Dan's idea of gratitude was to do the best job he possibly could, even with only one arm. His right arm was off, halfway between the elbow and shoulder, shattered by a grenade in Korea.
Dan's left hand reached into a drawer, pulled out some papers that he handed to Jed.
"Is this what you want to talk about?" he said.
It was a copy of the recent inventory list that Jed had been checking.
"Yeah," said Jed. He flipped through the pages. "Is as much missing as I figured?"
"I don't know the cash value." Dan sipped at his coffee, his calm, dark eyes watching Jed's face alertly. "I know that two weeks ago when me and the boys started checking this out, we found a hell of a lot of boxes gone. Crates, big and small, cardboard cartons of stuff. It's real crazy. Gone in thin air. No signed papers. I thought you'd be over."
"I figure it's $10,000 worth disappeared."
Dan whistled between his teeth. "Have you asked Thorpe if he has some unreported orders?"
"Thorpe? No, why?"
"He's been down here nights. I started seeing his name often on the night watchman's sheet. So I thought I'd stick around a few evenings. It was real interesting the first night. He met three big toughs over at tho night watchman's shack, and the four of them strolled around among the boxes. That is, they did till they saw me watching them. Then they all scrammed."
Jed scowled down at the papers. It simply didn't make sense. "He's a stockholder. These losses come out of his own profits as well as ours. What the hell? Why would he authorize stealing-if that's what he's doing?
Dan's left hand, large, capable, the grime ground in, flipped as he shrugged. "Search me. You're the boss. You think."
"Just like in the days of the Dukes, huh?" They exchanged reminiscent grins.
Jed laid the papers back in the drawer. "What do you know about Larry Westfall?" he asked.
"It's funny you said his name," said Dan. "Coffee?"
"Yeah." Jed got up and picked a cardboard cup from the dispenser. Dan filled it from the battered pot. "Why funny?"
"I've seen him a couple of times with Thorpe."
"Here in the warehouse?" asked Jed sharply.
"Nope. In town. At a bar near my house. Saw them two different times, their heads together, talking, arguing. Seemed like the boy was drunk, or awful mad."
"Larry told me he had poker debts. Do you suppose he owes Thorpe?"
"The lousy poker Thorpe plays? Nope. Not unless the boy is awfully stupid. Is he stupid?"
"Not that stupid. Mixed-up. though."
They drank their hot, black coffee in companionable silence. Jed always felt better when he could talk things over with Dan, knowing what he said would go no farther. It was good to have one trustworthy guy around in a stiff competitive business like this.
"Russell Thorpe has some kind of hold on Larry," said Dan, finally.
"Hold? What kind of hold?"
"A kind of hold that no matter how Thorpe eggs him on, Larry doesn't smash his face in."
"Oh."
Jed rocked back and forth in the battered rocker. He had more problems than ever, but he felt better about them. Dan was a good guy for sharing problems.
"Well, keep your eyes open. If you can, phone me the next time you see Thorpe here with those guys. I'd like to come over and take a look at them."
"Okay."
They sat and talked idly for a couple hours more, about the times when they were kids in Blaine's Alley. Dan was a link from the past to the present. Jed felt sorely in need of such a contact, to help him make sense of his confused life.
He did not know where he was going, or what he wanted. Andrea wanted him to set a wedding date. Thorpe was up to something. His beautiful enemy, Edythe Westfall, was involved in something deep and troublesome, and so was her brother Larry. Jed felt like solving a lot of problems before he jumped into any new ones, such as marriage to Andrea could involve.
CHAPTER FIVE
Jed had never been a subtle clever sort of guy. His method of tackling a problem was usually to jump into it feet first and come up fighting. He liked the kinds of problems he could solve in this manner-he liked conquering.
The subtle, wily ways of Russell Thorpe made him fume with anger. He didn't like infighting within a company, having to guard against a stab in the back. If he had known what the older man was really like he would not have gone in business with him.
Jed had liked Russell's wife, Mavis, who owned a large share of their stock. It had been a tremendous jolt to Jed when Russell had callously divorced Mavis, and about two years later had married a pretty, blonde, stupid chorus girl half his age. Kittie Thorpe was living proof to Jed that a man's good taste could deteriorate with approaching middle age.
But that was not the issue at present. Jed tapped his fingers restlessly on his huge oak desk. There was a mysterious scheme going on, probably aimed at him. The Westfall Company was involved in the scheme. Judging from Larry's confusion and unhappiness, the Westfalls might be unwilling partners with Thorpe in that scheme.
There was one person who might be persuaded to talk. And Jed wanted to see Edythe Westfall again. So he called her at the office of Westfall Golden Stamps.
She answered her phone promptly. "Miss Westfall speaking," said a clear, crisp voice.
"Edythe? This is Jed Kingsley."
Pause. He could imagine the wary expression of her dark blue eyes.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Kingsley. How are you?"
So she wanted to be formal again. Jed leaned back m his swivel chair and cradled the phone on his shoulder.
"Everything's fine, Edythe," he said, blandly ignoring her formality. "I ran into Larry last evening, quite by accident."
"You did?" Her tone was sharply apprehensive. "What happened?"
"Nothing. We just had a chat over a couple of drinks. I thought I'd tell you myself, so you wouldn't think I was looking for trouble. We didn't fight at all."
"Oh."
A longer pause. Jed grinned into the phone. Her mind was probably clicking on all cylinders, trying to understand what the hidden meanings were behind Jed's casual words.
That was the trouble with slick, scheming people. They could not accept anything at face value. They had to pry up the surface and peer underneath for the clues and innuendos that might not be there at all. The penalty for having a devious mind, Jed decided virtuously.
"What did you talk about?" she ventured cautiously.
She was snapping at the bait. He played out his line a little farther.
"Oh-business and pleasure. Nothing special. He does seem on edge, though. Is anything worrying him?"
"I don't know. He doesn't confide in me any more," she confessed. "Mr. Kingsley-Jed-I wonder if I could talk to you-"
Snap. She had taken the bait.
"Why, of course, Edythe. Talk ahead."
"I mean, in your office. Would it be all right if I come up this afternoon?"
He was not going to keep the meeting business-like if he could help it. He pulled his engagement book toward him.
"Just a minute. I'm checking." He flipped the pages so they could be heard over the phone. "This afternoon is out. Wednesday-no. I'll be gone all day. Thursday-Friday-hmm. Monday-Tuesday-Say, how about Wednesday of next week?"
Very long pause. It was devilish to use her anxiety over her brother to tease her, but he wanted to see her again, and not in a business setting.
In a strained voice, she finally answered, "I'd rather not wait so long."
"I'm free this evening. Shall I come up to your apartment? We could talk privately there."
"No! No, I couldn't-I mean, my apartment is a mess-"
She was so neat and precise he could not believe that. She had sounded panicky at the very idea of his coming up. His eyes narrowed. Her home address and phone were not in the telephone book. No one ever knew how to reach her outside business hours.
"There's my apartment," he suggested, without much hope. She had been there once. She might not risk a second trip, knowing his reputation with women. "If you care to come up, you're welcome."
Long silence.
"Well, I don't suppose I could tell you anything you don't know about Larry," he said, as a final teaser. "You know his problems better than I do."
"No, no, please, Jed. Don't hang up." She did sound desperate. "I-I'll come up to your apartment for a few minutes. I must talk to you."
Landed. Beached. Wiggling in his net. He grinned triumphantly.
"Fine. Shall we say, about eight o'clock this evening? You know where I live?" He made it sound casual, as though he had forgotten her previous visit.
"Yes. Is it all right to park in the basement garage?"
"Sure. Park next to my car. It's the last one on the right end."
"All right. Then I'll see you about eight."
"Sure. See you then."
He hung up and laughed aloud, his eyes sparkling.
So Edythe would come to him. He would plan this evening very carefully.
At noon, he bought some sherry, choosing the brand with care. He spent most of the afternoon thinking about Edythe, remembering what she had said about Italy, recalling her vulnerable points. Her brother, Italy, an Italian lover, a strict but neglectful father, a demanding, competitive business. She had to be tough, but she probably did not enjoy toughness. Her dark blue eyes had been wistful as she talked about her brief escape from the confining life her father had laid out for her.
Jed had known Mr. Westfall only from a few rare business contacts. His impression of the man had been that of a stern, driving, ambitious older man whose health had been eaten away by the heavy demands he had made on himself. If he had not died in the crash of the company plane, he might not have lived long anyway. Edythe and Larry must be more like their mother's side of the family. Edythe seemed ambitious more from a sense of responsibility toward her father's company than because of any inner compulsions.
As eight o'clock came closer, Jed paced the apartment nervously. He was as ready as possible. He had turned up the heat so that the apartment was quite warm. The sherry was chilling, the glasses on the kitchen table. He had drawn the heavy crimson drapes to shut out the beautiful but distracting vista of the city. He wore trousers, a thin shirt, and a red Chinese silk brocade lounge robe that could be whipped off in a hurry.
Eight o'clock came, but not Edythe. Jed paced faster, trying to decide what to do if she didn't show. He couldn't go to her apartment. Dared he call Larry, insist on knowing where Edythe lived? Would Larry tell him?
Ten after eight. The elevator door clanged. Jed stiffened, listened.
High heels clicked in the hallway. He fairly ran to the door, then forced himself to wait till the doorbell rang. He waited another couple seconds, then opened the door.
Edythe stood there. He could scarcely conceal his relief and delight.
"Come in, come in," he said happily.
She walked in slowly, glancing around suspiciously. "I can only stay a few minutes," she said coldly, keeping her blue jacket wrapped around her.
"Sit down. Make yourself comfortable." He coaxed her, and she finally sat down stiffly on a straight chair. He sat down on the couch.
She gazed at the drawn curtains, her winged eyebrows in a slight frown. "I shouldn't have troubled you," she said. "You may have a date." It was half a question.
"No. My evening is free. I feel I may have worried you unnecessarily about Larry," he said. "I have a talent for meddling in other people's business, I'm afraid."
She studied his face. And he gazed at hers, frankly enjoying the beauty of the oval features, the wide, dark blue eyes, framed by the sunny gold of her hair. The severe braids could not make her look unfeminine. She was a beautiful woman from the top of her shining head down her ripe rounded body, to her dainty slender feet.
"I was wondering why you got me up here," she said bluntly. "You have quite a reputation where women are concerned. Was it about Larry really? Or are you on the make for me? I warn you, you'll be wasting your valuable time."
He grinned at the sarcastic tone. "Oh, I like variety, Edythe. And you're a new type for me."
She jumped up. He stood politely.
"You probably know all about Larry's involvement with Russell Thorpe," he added, watching her sharply. "How about some sherry?"
She sank down in the chair once more, as though her knees had given way. The name of Russell Thorpe seemed to be sufficient to take all the starch out of her backbone.
Feeling quite safe, he went to the kitchen, and returned with the sherry and glasses. She was gazing into space, her mouth tight, her eyes slightly glazed with thought.
"You do like sherry, don't you?" He filled the glass and handed it to her, then filled his and sat down on the couch, closer to her this time. "I've been fond of sherry since a visit to Spain some years ago," he chatted on, to give her time to recover.
She sipped at the glass, then drank it down as though she craved the stimulation of the drink. He filled her glass again. While she was sipping at the second glass, he thrust in a sharp question.
"How long have you known Russell Thorpe?"
She swallowed convulsively, and coughed to clear her throat. "Three-years," she finally whispered.
"And Larry has known him that long? Or did you introduce him?"
Her blue eyes turned to him, her suspicion evident. "I-ah-introduced them-about three years ago."
"I see. Does your brother play poker often?"
"Poker?"
"Yes."
"Why are you asking all these questions?" she cried. "I thought you had something to tell me." Her hand was shaking as he took the empty glass from her. He filled it again.
The sherry was smooth. It slid down the throat with ease. She did not realize how much she was drinking, distracted by his questions.
"I'm not sure whether I have anything to tell you," he said blandly.
She jumped up once more. "Did you get me up here on purpose-
Her jacket fell open. She was wearing a silver-blue shantung dress with a tight bodice and full skirt.
"You must be warm," he said, standing. "Let me take your jacket. What I mean is, what I have to tell you about Thorpe and Larry may not be news to you. Pretty old stuff, probably, the fact that Thorpe has a strong hold on Larry...."
He paused, deliberately. She let him take her jacket.
"Here, sit on the couch. It's more comfortable." He coaxed her down to the couch, and put another full glass of sherry in her hand.
"A ... hold...." she whispered. She drank, absently, gazing at him over the rim of the glass.
"But you probably know all about that. When did it start?"
She jerked, and set down the empty glass. It clattered on the coffee table. Her hands were shaking. "You-you are asking the questions again," she said. "I want answers to my questions."
"If we pooled our knowledge, we could get somewhere," said Jed, pouring more sherry. She refused it abruptly.
"I think you're just guessing. I think you don't really know anything." She tried to get up. He slipped his arm around her waist and held her boldly.
"No. Don't go. We haven't finished talking."
"Let me go! I might have known this was only a trick!" She tore at his arm furiously. He held her tighter, with both arms. The warmth and silkiness of her body, the heady perfume drove him on. He wanted this woman. She was a challenge to him. He wanted to conquer her.
But he had to use strength to hold her. She fought him with furious energy. When he tried to push her back on the couch, she kicked out at him. He couldn't kiss her. Her head swung from side to side, and she bit and scratched and kicked.
"You-little-devil-" he panted. "Come on. Stop that! I just want to kiss you-"
"I might have known! Bully! To use Larry-my worries-" With a fierce burst of passion, she broke free of him, got to her feet. She ran around the couch, paused to grab her jacket. He was after her, caught her at the corner of the wall near the door.
He was full of passion. He could think of nothing but having her. He must have this woman.
He had caught her near a corner. Deliberately he forced her back into the corner, crushed her against the wall. He jerked open his robe, and pressed his body hard against her squirming body as she tried to escape. He grabbed one arm, held it against the wall. His other hand caught her wrist, forced it to her throat, so that with one hand he could control her arm and her head.
Forcing her to stillness between himself and the wall, Jed rubbed his hips on hers. She could not help but feel the pulsing desire that raced through him.
"Edythe," he muttered. "Edythe. Don't fight me. There's passion locked in you. Let it out. For once, let it out. This could be good. Like Italy," he whispered, close to her ear. "Like Italy. Love and passion."
"No," she said, her head weaving to evade him. "No. No. No."
He pressed closer. "Love," he whispered. "Love. You want love. You're starved for it. I know the signs."
"No. No."
But her body was weakening, softening. He smiled, and dared to kiss her cheek. She shivered. Her hips were trembling.
"I could make love to you right here," he said, his voice deepening. "Right here, against the wall. It wouldn't be hard. Because you want it too. You want me too."
"No. No."
She wasn't fighting him now. Her arms were lax. He kissed her mouth. It was warm, the lips damp.
She groaned, deep in her throat. Her body was limp. He dared release one arm and pulled up her dress and slip. He ripped down the girdle, and she was bared to the knees. Eagerly, he followed up the advantage.
He unfastened his trousers. Her eyes were closed, she leaned on the wall as though she would fall if he did not hold her. He explored quickly, found a response to his eager flesh. He ground against her, stooped, then stood straight slowly.
Her released arm closed spasmodically around his body as he held her. His desire was so intense that it soon shot to a peak. He found release, held her, finished, withdrew. She was gripping him with her free hand.
He drew her with him over to the rug. He made her lie down, ripped off the girdle, shoes and stockings, and touched her greedily. His hands caressed her bare flesh from the slim waist to the slender legs.
Her eyes half-opened. "I-must-go-" she said, in a daze.
"No," he said. "Not now. Not now."
He leaned back, ripped off his trousers, and bent over her once more. She sighed, and adjusted her body to his. This time her hands went around to his back under the robe. He felt sharp fingers digging at his shoulders, rippling over his spine.
Then there was the thrilling, exciting jolt as he embraced her again. He settled down to prolong it and enjoy it thoroughly. He moved smoothly, listening to the sibilant caresses of their flesh as the warm body surrendered to him.
He raised up a little to see her face. The eyes were tightly shut. The mouth was open, the red tongue licking her lips. A humming came from her mouth. Passion was building up and up in her lush body, shaped for love, designed for a man's embrace.
He paused, to tease her and prolong the desire. Unexpectedly she moved, swayed, pushed at him hungrily. Delighted, he returned the pressure. They danced the dance of desire, sprawled full-length on the floor. Her fingernails bit into his spine, and she cried out, begging for more.
"Love-love-my darling," she cried. "More-a little more-more-darling-love-"
He gave her more. He speeded up the pace until they were whiplashing at each other, racing to speed the drive to the take-off point. The fuel built up; the heat grew unbearable. Then she screamed in his ear, grabbed him, surged to meet him.
They kicked off into outer space, free-wheeling into orbit, fighting for breath, the Earth dipping away from them. Stars and sparks of light and the sun itself I exploding, and her voice crying to him as though from deep inside him.
He collapsed beside her when it was done. He heard her sobbing for breath, and it took him a while to get his own breath back. He rolled from her, but kept an arm around her waist to hold on to her. She was too good to lose now, too precious to let slip away.
When he had recovered, he sat up, looked down at her. Her breath was still panting, her full breasts heaving, her fists clenching and unclenching. He surveyed proudly the area he had conquered, the slim white waist, the wide curving hips....
He reached over to the coffee table for his glass of sherry. Meditatively he sipped it. He was glad he had bought the best. The best was none too good to celebrate this night.
She stirred and sat up. Her blonde hair tumbled about her shoulders. Her dark blue eyes were hazy. He offered her a glass of sherry.
She took it. "I shouldn't," she said. "But I'll need it to get home on."
"You're not going home for a while, honey," Jed enlightened her gently.
"Haven't you proved your point? I'm vulnerable. I'm a woman. Isn't that enough?" A flush mounted in her cheeks. She pulled her dress down to her knees proudly.
"You're a woman, all right. And that's why you're going to stay. Don't fool yourself any more, Edythe. You want me as much as I want you."
"I do not!"
"I'll prove it again. Shall we use the bed, though? The floor must be hard on your back."
She glared at him. "I have no intention of-"
Presently, in the bedroom, he had the pleasure of removing the remainder of her clothes. Her shoulders were gleaming white. Her breasts were full and rounded, swollen with desire.
He undressed, and came to the bed. The sherry bottle and glasses were on the table, in case further incentive might be needed during the night. Then Jed settled down beside his reluctant love, his lovely enemy, to teach her more about herself, her passions, her body, her possibilities.
He managed to keep her all night. But sometime during the early morning, he fell asleep. He wakened, reached out for her, remembering her on the first moment of waking.
She was gone. Her clothes were gone. Only the crushed pillow beside his and the rumpled bedclothes and a languid sense of well-being remained to remind him she had been there.
No matter. She would return, Jed decided. He smiled, his arms stretching above his head. What a woman. What fire and passion and heady delights all in one compact silken frame.
He rolled over. Ah, Edythe. She would be back. When a woman like that was once aroused, she could never retreat into coldness. Not if the man was smart. And Jed intended to be smart. He wanted her again-and again.
CHAPTER SIX
There was a stockholders' meeting on Thursday of that week. Jed was usually thoroughly bored by them. He considered them a waste of time. He and Russell Thorpe made the decisions and did the work. The other stockholders merely gave a rubber-stamp approval.
But the formalities had to be observed. So on Thursday morning at five minutes before ten, Jed strolled to the board room and took his usual place at the head of the table. Bess Cridland seated herself at the secretary's desk near Jed to take the notes of the meeting.
Mavis Thorpe arrived promptly at ten o'clock. Jed stood up to greet her. Since her divorce from Russell, she usually stayed away from the company, except for these stockholders' meetings. Jed knew she dreaded them, but she came faithfully to each one.
"Hello, Jed, darling," she said, advancing toward the head of the table. She smiled, but glanced around nervously. "Don't tell me I'm the first one here." Her hand was cold, as he clasped it briefly. She was too thin, the high cheekbones sharply marked, the chin bony. There were streaks of gray in her blonde hair that he had not observed before. She was about forty, and the divorce had been haid on her.
"Yes. You're as prompt as usual. Thanks for coming, Mavis." He wondered himself that Fred and Bert and Lola had not arrived. They were usually early in arriving, and impatient to leave before the meeting was over.
Mavis sat down at his right, smiled a polite greeting to Bess, then laid her pocketbook on the table before her. She laid her smart leather gloves on the pocketbook, then picked them up to fiddle with them, her head jerking nervously toward the door of the board room every few seconds.
Jed remembered when Mavis had been a poised self-confident woman, sure of herself and her desirability as the wife of Russell Thorpe. Russell had been destructively cruel in the manner in which he had shed his wife of fifteen years. Jed wondered what he had said, what he had done to Mavis, to wreck her control like this. It sent a wave of cold, helpless fury through him, that such a fine woman could have been so devastated.
Jed frankly liked women. He enjoyed a woman's company, loved a woman's physical response to him, liked even to talk to a woman and watch her emotional reactions. He felt protective toward women like Mavis.
She was an open-hearted, sensitive, loving, giving woman, who hadn't known what hit her when Russell let her know that she was finished as his wife.
He talked to Mavis as they waited, chatted about the weather. And she had seen a movie that she had liked.
"You must see it, Jed. You'd love it! Wonderful humor, and of course some hot love scenes."
"Just my type, huh?" he grinned.
Her head turned sharply as the door opened. Russell held the door for the woman who entered ahead of him.
Kittie Thorpe. Jed stood up slowly, appraising her even as he flinched for Mavis. What bad taste Russell had now, to have chosen this female for his wife, and to have dragged her to a board meeting.
Kittie entered like a chorus girl about to be interviewed by a producer. Her long blonde hair glittered in the lights of the room, aided by a blonde rinse and some sparkly spray. She tottered on three-inch heels to a chair which Russell drew back for her. Before seating herself, she flounced back the edges of the silver-blue mink coat to give everyone a good look at her figure in the sleek silver sheath dress.
It was worth gawking at, Jed admitted to himself. Kittie's waist was twenty-five inches, her hips a smooth thirty-five inches. But her bust was full-blown, enticing, at about forty-two inches.
Mavis and Bess stared in hostile silence. Jed said a few polite words of welcome.
"Happy to have you attend the meeting, Mrs. Thorpe," he said. "You may find it all rather boring."
"Oh, I think business is just fascinating," trilled Kattie, in a sickeningly coy manner, her blonde head tilted so she could see Jed from under her long fake lashes. "Making money is just too too exciting!"
Bess muttered something rude under her breath. Jed grinned, then noted that Mavis was clutching her gloves again, pulling them nervously. Poor Mavis. This would be worse than usual for her today.
"It's ten past. Shall we start?" said Russell, sitting down at the end of the long table, beside Kittie. There were half a dozen chairs lined up, empty, between the two ends of the table.
"I can't understand why no one else is here," said Jed, glancing at his watch, then at the wall clock. "Lola always comes. Isn't Fred back from Florida yet?"
Russell smiled, a self-satisfied smirk that put Jed on guard. "They won't be here. Why don't you start the meeting, and then I'll explain for the record."
Jed turned around and looked at Bess. She half-lifted her shoulders, as puzzled as he was.
"All right," he said tautly. He opened the meeting, directed Bess to read the minutes of the last meeting.
Then he had the roll-call, usually a mere formality.
"Mrs. Lola Adams," read Bess.
"I-ah-have her proxy," said Russell, placing a paper on the table before him.
"Mr. Frederick Barton," read Bess, after a pause.
"I-ah-have bought all his stock in the Crown Company," Russell smirked.
"You-what?" Jed snarled in surprise.
"I bought all Fred's stock," said Russell. "I have also bought the stock belonging to Bert, Hank Senior and Hank Junior. The secretary might as well cross them off the stockholders list."
Kittie was smiling up at Russell, her pretty red bow of a mouth half-open, admiringly. She was less than half Russell's age. It wasn't difficult to see why he had married her. Her charms were obvious.
But Jed had more important things to think about.
"When did you buy this stock?" he barked. "No one said anything when my secretary phoned them about the meeting."
"I bought it all yesterday," said Russell. "It might interest you to know that I now own 26 per cent of the stock in this company, and I have proxies for 14 per cent more. This brings my voting control for this meeting to 40 per cent."
Jed was so shocked he reeled. So this was what Russell was working toward-control of the Crown Company.
"Check the proxies, Bess," he said, as calmly as possible. Bess got up and went to check over the papers Russell displayed so proudly. It gave Jed a minute to think.
He owned 30 per cent. He wrote a scribbled note on the pad before him, and pushed it before Mavis.
"What per cent do you own now?" the note asked.
She wrote, "Twelve per cent."
If Mavis voted with him, that would be 42 per cent against Russell's 40 per cent.
Bess brought the results of her checking to Jed. He looked it over quickly. Three stockholders, holding 18 per cent, were not present or accounted for. He knew that two of them were in Florida.
Jed called for old business. Bess read out two resolutions, long ones to be considered. While she read, Jed thought furiously. He must contact today, at once, all the stockholders who had not sold out to Thorpe, to persuade them to sell to him if they sold at all. Damn the man, anyway. He had done it so fast, Jed had not heard a single rumor.
Jed called for a vote on the first resolution.
"I vote no," said Jed.
"I vote yes," said Russell, glaring at him. "That's 40 per cent, Bess! Put that down!"
"Yes, sir," said Bess in her soft voice.
Mavis cleared her throat. "I vote-no," she said.
"42 per cent no. 40 per cent yes," announced Bess, tonelessly.
Russell sneered at Mavis. "Going over to Jed's side, darling?" he asked.
She did not answer, her hands fumbling with the gloves, pulling at the leather fingers, smoothing the fabric.
Jed called for a vote on the second resolution. The result was the same, as Mavis voted with Jed.
"That settles the matter," said Jed, coldly. "Now, I'll call for new business."
Russell jumped up furiously. "Damned if I'll present any new business! I'll wait till I have full control, then you'll dance to my tune! Come on Kittie."
"We have the matter of the Great Van Company to decide," Jed protested. "We must vote on that."
Russell wanted the Great Van contract as much as Jed did, so he sat down sulkily. Jed went through the formalities hastily. The vote was 82 per cent for, none against.
Russell seemed to have gained back his self-control, and Jed conducted the rest of the business to the end, with no interference.
As they stood up to leave, Russell said, "I have another proposition to present. But I'll wait till I have control." He looked directly at his former wife. "Mavis votes with whoever she's sleeping with, and I have other interests now. I'll get my control some other way."
The delicate flush on Mavis' face burned to deep red. She seemed to shrink down within her thin frame.
Kittie laughed, a shrill, high giggle. Bess and Jed watched her silently as she got up from the table, slung her fur wrap around her, fluffed out her blonde hair and preceded Russell to the door.
When they had left, Mavis said, "Jed, I'm sorry. He has a nasty mind."
"You're sorry?" he said fiercely. "I apologize for not knocking him down and tramping on him."
Mavis smiled wearily, drew her coat on over her thin shoulders, and left.
"Oh, damn, damn, damn," said Jed, with feeling. "Bess, see if you can get me in touch with all the stockholders who haven't sold out to Russell. No-wait-let's phone from my office. It stinks in here."
"Kittie's perfume," said Bess. "I'll air out the room."
Jed went back to his office to brood angrily over the latest developments. So this was what Russell had been concealing in his sleeve. Damn him. Trying to take over control of the company. The hog. He wanted it all.
Jed swiveled around to face the windows. He stared out at the bright May sunshine. Stupid Kittie. Wearing a mink on a day like this. Probably a new coat and she just had to parade herself all over town in it.
Larry Westfall. The name jumped into Jed's mind. Had Larry known what Russell was planning? How could he know? What proposition was Russell going to spring on Jed as soon as he was "in control?"
And where did the inventory shortages fit in? Why was Russell prowling around the warehouse at night?
"Yoo hoo! May I step into your office?" The coy voice broke sharply into his thoughts.
He whirled around in the chair, staring blankly, as Kittie Thorpe posed in the doorway. She held her coat open with one hand, her other hand on the frame of the door, standing slightly sideways to give him the full benefit of her profile from her bust to her knees.
He got the picture. He stared at her expressionlessly. Russell Thorpe had thrown over a grand woman, a sensitive, intelligent woman, and hurt her pride and self-respect-for this witch. He wished there were some marvelous revenge he could get on Russell for this. His eyes narrowed.
"Come in, Kittie. Or-I beg your pardon-Mrs. Thorpe." He stood up as she pranced forward on her high heels, banging the door after her.
"Ooooh, don't be formal with Little Me. Call me Kittie," she smiled, holding her coat back so he could look at her more closely.
She thrived on admiration. Jed wondered 'tow strong her sex impulses were. He decided to test them.
"Let me take your coat." He came over to stand behind her. "Is Russell-busy?"
She shrugged out of the coat. He laid it carefully on the couch. In the early days, Mavis had done without expensive clothes, without household help, to struggle and save money for the company and Russell. She had never received a coat like this expensive fur-only a divorce for her trouble.
"Oh, he's arguing with some man about some ad. He told me to run along and keep busy for an hour till he's ready for lunch."
"How lucky for me," said Jed throatily. He put his hands on her shoulders, slid them slowly down her bare arms to her wrists. A shiver went along down her spine. He smiled. "I bet you get lonesome. Russell is a busy man."
"Yeah. Awful busy." She sat down. He lit a cigarette for her, noted carefully the discontented droop of her mouth. She was sorry for herself. "You know, I bet I saw him more often before we were married than I have in the three months since."
"That's too bad. A pretty girl like you. He shouldn't neglect you like that. I bet he hardly ever takes you out dancing."
"Oh-dancing, sure. And swell places, where all we do is sit and talk to people. But afterward, he's so tired-" She bit her tongue uneasily. "Gee, you have a nice office."
"It is nice. Good view of the city from here. Of course, Russell is getting up in years. You can't expect him to act like a young fellow."
Her bold eyes met his, the lashes slightly drooped. She smiled, slowly.
"Not much gets past you, huh, Jed?" She leaned forward for an ashtray. Her full bust pressed against the edge of the desk. She settled back, crossed her legs. "Yep. You guessed it. He's more interested in showing his friends the young wife he got than in chasing me around the bedroom."
She was vulgar and cheap, and full of unused energy. This should be easy, Jed decided.
"He was married to that dame a long time, wasn't he?" she asked.
"Mavis? Yes. Fifteen year," he said stiffly.
She whistled through her teeth. "Hell. No wonder he wanted me. She looks as cold as last week's turkey."
He was close to slapping her brazen face. But he had other uses for her. Russell was a proud and jealous man. He had been showing off his new bride to his friends. As long as she kept her mouth shut, he could be proud of her.
"It's fine for him," said Jed carefully. "But it's probably hard for you, so young and energetic," he suggested, looking at her bare knees where the dress had ridden up. "Being alone-all day."
The bold eyes met his, narrowed in speculation. "Yeah. Gets lonesome."
"Maybe I could help out-sometime."
"You've got the name for being fond of the ladies," she said.
"Very fond," said Jed. "And at the risk of being immodest, may I add that usually the ladies are fond of me-especially after...." he hesitated delicately.
He had not misjudged her. The tip of her tongue ran over her lips Her eyes were greedily surveying him from head to toot.
"You're a virile kind of guy, I bet."
"I wish I could prove it to you."
"Why not?" Her eyes gleamed. "Why don't you come over?"
"Shall we say-tomorrow afternoon?"
She hesitated, plunged. "Okay. Tomorrow afternoon."
"Russell has a meeting that should last all afternoon," said Jed. "How about 1:30-at my place?"
"Too risky. I might be seen." she said. "Besides I like to sleep afterward. Say 1:30-at my house. And Russell never comes home early!"
"Fine," he said softly. "Fine." He got up, went over to her. He lifted her chin in his hands, caressing her cheeks with his fingers. "How about a sample for now?"
He put his mouth on her lips. The hot mouth opened under his. Her tongue shot into his mouth. They kissed, deeply. After a couple of minutes, she broke away, gasping open-mouthed.
"Hey, save it for tomorrow!"
"There's plenty more," he said. He laid his hand on the full heaving breast and closed his fingers deliberately over the quivering silk. He squeezed, pushed at the breast, manipulated it. She closed her eyes, and her tongue licked feverishly at her lips.
"Hey-hey-you'll get me all stirred up. Save it," she said, brokenly. But she did not pull away. She was starved for caresses and the tough, hard love-making that she was probably accustomed to. Russell had simply not succeeded in satisfying her.
He went around behind her chair, drew her back with a hand on each breast. Roughly he handled her huge breasts, roughly squeezed and teased and titillated the quivering flesh. He watched her cross her legs tightly, squirm in the chair, in an agony of desire. Her full bust was sensitive, and she was becoming deeply aroused. She would not change her mind about tomorrow.
He finally let her go, and she leaned forward, gasping, and reached for another cigarette. He lit it for her. Her hand was shaking.
"You louse," she said, affectionately. "You'd better show tomorrow."
"I'll be there. You be ready for me. We'll only have three hours, and I want to make every minute count." He was already looking forward to the session, for several reasons.
"I'll be ready. Come to the side door. My maid will let you in. Come right up to the bedroom."
"You be in bed-and ready," he ordered, smiling. "I don't want to waste any time fooling around. You look like a girl who could give a man everything he wants." He ran his hand over her shoulder and arm, and touched her breast again.
"I can. I sure can. I'd better go now, so Russell won't guess." She left, winking at him with a heavily painted eyelash.
Bess came in a few minutes later, and opened every window to the top. He ignored her disapproving scowl as she sniffed significantly at the heavy, cloying fragrance in the room.
He spent the rest of the day contacting the present and former stockholders of the company. The picture he finally formed was not pleasant to him. Russell had showed them the inventory statements, convinced several of them that the company was losing business, and persuaded them to sell before the value of their stock dropped to rock bottom.
Jed would enjoy the session with Kittie tomorrow. He wanted a lot of revenge.
CHAPTER SEVEN
At precisely 1:25 on Friday afternoon, Jed parked his car two blocks from the huge Thorpe residence and walked briskly to the side door. A poker-faced maid let him in, and showed him upstairs to rooms on the east side of the house.
She opened the door to a sunny living room, and said, "Mrs. Thorpe is expecting you." Then she turned and marched stiffly down the steps.
Jed closed the door, and went through the living room to the bedroom beyond. It was a huge room, in garish reds, blues and golds. He paid no attention to the room, however, for in the center of the room was a massive bed, and sitting in the bed was Kittie.
She wore a thin, transparent, red negligee which did little but tantalize the eyes and attract them to the ample charms less than half hidden by the silk. She lifed her arms to sweep back her long, loose, blonde hair. Her face was greedily eager, her eyes boldly inviting.
"Jed, darling. Right on time."
"I didn't want to miss a minute." He stood beside the bed, staring down at her. The bedcovers had been rolled back to the end of the bed. She was sitting on a gold sheet, her knees crooked slightly, her whole svelte body displayed for his enticement in the transparent negligee.
"You're not in much of a hurry," she prodded, pouting lusciously.
"I can't stop staring," he admitted frankly. He unfastened his tie, took off his jacket. She propped herself on some frivolous gold cushions and watched him eagerly.
"Jed, did you lock the door?"
"No," he said.
"I will." She slid off the bed, brushed past him, the negligee swinging loosely, and went over to lock the bedroom door. Then she returned, to sit cross-legged on the bed. Her legs were long, smooth, silken; her hips were rounded globes of creamy flesh. In a few years, if she wasn't careful, she would be fat, but right now she was slender-waisted and plump in the hips and bust.
He had been looking forward to this session. When he was naked, he lay down on the bed, bending over her as she leaned on the pillows. Her half-closed eyes studied his body.
There was a small clasp fastening the red negligee at her throat. He unfastened it, drew back the silk that covered her huge bust. He remembered her swift response yesterday to his manipulations of her breasts.
He put one hand on each breast, squeezing tightly. He bent closer. The strong perfume she wore aroused him, combined with the fragrance of her naked flesh.
He nuzzled his head against the full, swollen breasts. He touched one with his mouth, nuzzling, handling her roughly. Her hands clasped around his head. She was already sighing deep in her throat.
While he played with each breast in turn, his right hand moved down and explored excitedly. The skin was satin soft. He clasped her waist, moved his hand to the silken back. His fingers played silent melodies on the globes of her hips, down to her thighs, warm and pliant.
She didn't need many preliminaries. She was as passionate as he was. The huge breast heaved in a gasp of satisfaction as he shifted to the attack. He kept on nuzzling at the massive breasts, even as he sought, explored, found. She was a big, solid woman. He embraced her, not saving his strength, not holding back cautiously for fear of hurting her. She could take it, all he was ready to give.
They soared together. She lay still as he began his movements. He felt some surprise and tenderness for her as he realized she was really inexperienced in love-making. She must have sold her obvious charms to clumsy lovers in the past. He resolved to make up for some of their deficiencies.
He lifted up, put his hands under her hips. She misunderstood.
"Don't stop, Jed. Oh, don't stop, honey!"
"Baby, I've just begun. Come on, let's play."
He showed her what to do with her body. She learned fast, and soon she was so much in the swing of the things he wanted to shout with the pleasure of it. She moved rhythmically as he rode the waves of pleasure, until they crested. He fell, panting, and rested on the billowing breasts.
She caressed his hair. "You're sweet. You know it? You're sweet."
Within moments, he was ready again, determined this time to bring her to the peak with him. He worked longer at her vulnerable breasts, and soon the whole lush body was ready. He leaned forward, holding her, and nuzzled again at her massive breasts, swollen now and shaking like bowls of jelly. He rocked gently, kissing the breasts, rocked, swung, rocked. Her breath was coming in gasps, faster and faster, as he pressed her.
"Ah-ah-ah-ah-" she screamed out, and kicked off into orbit, her heels drumming on the bed as he held her and showed her the way to the stars. They fought and wrestled and rolled across the bed, Kittie showing her delight as he kept a firm grip on her, his head on her breast.
He didn't let go until she collapsed across his body, genuinely limp and finished. He smiled as he moved away carefully, and patted her back.
"There, baby. How was that?" he murmured fondly. He couldn't help liking a woman who responded so fervently to him.
"Uh-oooh-oh-oh-oooh," she could only sigh, her limbs limp. When she could raise up, she pushed back her long blonde hair dazedly. She smiled down at him in wonder. "Man! What did you do to me?"
"You like?"
"I like!" She kissed his chest, and trailed her hands down his sides to his thighs, feeling eagerly. "Wow! You ready again already? Man, what are you?"
"A man," he said, grinning. "A man who is inspired." He reached up, took one of the massive globes that were her main asset, and played with it skillfully.
Her tongue licked her lips as she hung over him dreamily. Her hand patted his thigh. "I never knew a guy like you before. What have I been missing?"
"Fun," he replied. "But what about your honeymoon? Wasn't it any good?"
She grimaced. "Oooh, honey. It was a dead bore. We went to Florida in February, and I thought I'd have a ball. But what happened? Russell had meetings all day and half the night."
"That's too bad," he said, alertly. "You didn't meet any of the men either, I suppose? Russell was probably jealous of you."
"Oh, I met them. But they didn't flip me. Say, honey, time's a-wasting." Her hand moved coaxingly.
"Was that where you met Fred Barton?" he asked, as though making talk. "Come closer to me, baby."
"Um. Yeah. Like this?" She settled in place delightedly. "Fred Barton. Yeah. He was one of them. And some guy named Bert. And some dame named Lola Adams. Was she a dead bore? I wore a bikini to the beach. So it was a little tight. Mad? I tell you! She yelled at Russell till he said I had to put on a one-piece stupid thing."
"He must think more of other people's opinions than yours," Jed prodded. He embraced her and she laughed happily. She crouched over him, settling in place again. He kissed a breast with his mouth.
"You like them, huh?" she said proudly. "I got the biggest boobs most guys have ever seen."
He kissed it again, and her hips jerked on his body. Her breasts were the most sensitive portions of her anatomy. She was so delighted with him that she chattered on, answering his idle questions as their bodies flowed together.
"Yeah, there was this kid, this Larry Westfall. But he was always fighting with Russell. Then he would go off mad."
"Russell or the boy?" said Jed, moving her with his hands to pull her closer.
"Aw, the kid. He drove around in an old car. Never had any money. Wouldn't even buy me a drink. Was I surprised when we came back and Russell says they play poker together! I says "What does the poor boy use-matchsticks?" Russell says to shut my big mouth."
She was mournful for a moment, then brightened, beaming happily, her breasts flopping.
"But Russell isn't serious about the sister. That was a relief."
"Sister. Is her name Edythe?" Jed forgot to keep his tone mild.
"Yeah. Do you know her?"
"I met her once or twice. Sort of a haughty-looking blonde."
"That's the dame. Russell dates her sometimes." Jed jerked, she swayed and almost fell away from him. "Hey-honey!" she protested.
"Let's try something new," he suggested, to distract her. "Sit up."
She sat up, and he got off the bed. "Aw, you're not going to quit, are you?" she asked, disappointed.
"Nope. Let's try something." He moved to the bed and began running his hand down her silken back. She giggled as he toyed with her huge breasts. "Do they date often, Edythe and your husband?"
"Them? Aw, once in a while. But it's only for dinner. They talk, and then Russell comes home early. So I'm not worried."
Jeb had plenty to think about and worry about. So Edythe and Larry were both thoroughly mixed up with his partner, Russell Thorpe. He could scarcely concentrate on his activities with Kittie.
"They used to date a lot, before he married me," offered Kittie. "What are we going to do?"
"You turn around on the bed-no, not that way. There, like that. That's right." He climbed up on the bed behind her, admiring the view. Kittie turned her head to peer over her smooth shoulder. "How serious were they?"
"Oh, pretty serious. When I worked in the nightclub three years ago, they used to come in and sit in the corner and kiss. You know, real cozy. Ouch!"
"Sorry!" In his surprise he had gripped her waist too hard with his hands.
So Russell and Edythe had once been very serious. Perhaps, probably, in love. Three years ago, Russell had been fighting for his divorce from Mavis. Jed frowned, puzzled. That was a crazy thing. If Russell had wanted a divorce to marry someone like Edythe, why had he made Mavis pay so dearly for the divorce? And what had happened to break up his new romance?
But Jed had started making love to Kittie again. She was so stirred and excited she wasn't talking any more. He settled to the business of giving them both some exotic delights.
They played roughly. She was hard to hold, giggling, squirming, romping on the wide bed. Finally she collapsed, out of breath. He followed her down, and held her steady while he finished.
She was eager for more. And she was sufficiently enticing and satisfying to keep him eagerly inventing new plays. She was tireless that afternoon. He decided to forget all his problems too, and lose himself in the sheer hedonistic delights she offered.
"Gee, honey, I bet life wouldn't get boring with you around."
"Why don't I come around a lot and try out your idea?" he murmured in her ear. He blew gently on the ear. She giggled, and squirmed happily.
"Russell would get so mad. But honestly, he does bore me. I thought we'd be together all the time and have lots of fun. You know?" she said wistfully.
He put one hand on each big breast and drew her back against his bare chest. She leaned her head on his shoulder, her hands on his thighs.
"I know, Kittie. It's hard on a girl, being married to a guy who's getting up in years."
"Boy, I'll say". He don't make love to me but once a week. And then once, and he's worn out. Gosh, I hardly get started with once. It takes me a little while to get worked up. You know?"
"Sure. You need loving and kissing first." He put his lips on her shoulder, traced a line of kisses to her arm.
"Ah. Do that again, lover, honey, Jed. Oh, ah, oooh, you're sweet."
He was glad to oblige. He squeezed her breasts rhythmically, kissed her shoulders and neck, whispered things in her ear that made her giggle and get more excited. It was fun to arouse her, to watch her getting excited. Finally he bounced her hard on his knees, again and again, and sent her off into a frenzy of repeated explosions. She loved it.
She flung herself over on the rug, flat on her back. She held up her arms. He came down toward her, meeting her fast and hard. They exploded again, in rhythm, kicking off into ecstasy, using each other fiercely for satisfaction.
He let her rest a few minutes after that. His own chest was heaving as he sought normal breath.
"Wow," she gasped at last. "Wow. Wow. What I've been missing."
"You didn't knock at the right door, baby. You didn't come to the right address."
"You-aren't-kidding." She stretched, yawned, the full bust rolling. "Oh, oh, I feel so damned good. All silky and happy inside."
"Don't want to quit, do you?" he teased. "Just when we're getting warm?"
"If you can dish it out, I can take ;t." She touched him provocatively, her bold eyes examining him. Is her hand, he came to life again. "Gee, Jed, honey!"
"You said you could take it," he laughed. "Where do you want me, on the floor or on the bed?"
She stood up. "On the bed. The floor is too hard."
He caught her as she was climbing onto the bed again. He pushed her face down across the bed, her legs dangling over the edge of the bed. Then he laughed at her surprise.
He held her there a moment, then moved away. He spanked one firm buttock. The flesh felt so good, he spanked the other one. She fought him, rolling over, her knees apart as she kicked out.
He climbed up on the bed and touched her as though he had never touched her before. He lunged for her. She was fighting him to tease him. He gripped her waist, held her fiercely in his hands, while his hips pressed down to control her body.
He conquered again, and she lay limp while he moved forward. Her eyes were closed, her hands gripped his back with sharp, clawing nails. He buried his head in the valley between the luscious breasts, and rolled his head slowly to press down on her.
She was big and wide, and soft and pliant. He embraced her, luxuriating in the velvet warmth. He swung his hips, delighted in the fullness and vibrancy he had found.
Rolling and holding, velvet and heat, the richness of silk and the slickness of satin, a firm woman to hold and love, a big woman to control and fight and conquer. Sighs and hard-panting breaths, cries for completion if was almost too much to endure.
He held off, and let her come searching, lustily, after him. Circling round and swinging, twisting of rounded flesh lashing ever faster and faster. Fire building up and up.
He could not hold back any longer. He held her down with his body and arms, and made her know the full power of a passion-driven man, until the dam broke and the floods came and the waves poured over the dark shores.
While he lay beside her to recover, he turned his head to see the clock. It was 3:45. He stretched, smiled. Right about now, he knew, Dan Foust, in his warehouse office, was stretching a handkerchief over the mouthpiece of a phone. In a muffled, husky voice, he was saying to Russell Thorpe, "You'd better get home and see who's in bed with your wife."
Dan was always very meticulous about details. Jed had told him to phone at 3:45, and Dan would be phoning right now.
Let's see, thought Jed. It was about eighteen or twenty minutes' drive from the office to the Thorpe house.
4:05. That would be the target time.
Time for one more, thought Jed. He turned to Kittie and touched her breasts.
She groaned, gazed up at him with glazed eyes. "Jed? Again? Baby doll, honey lover, I can't yet. Wait a few minutes."
"I can't wait," he said. "We have such a short time together. When can I see you again?"
"After I get out of the hospital," said Kittie, with a twinkle.
"Hospital?"
"Yeah, lover. They'll have to sew me back together. You've done ripped me up into little pieces." She yawned, stretched, her legs moving slowly on the gold sheet.
He grinned down at her. "You've been great, honey," he praised her. "I don't know when I've enjoyed an afternoon like this."
"Yeah? You're sweet. You give a girl confidence. You know?"
"I know, Kittie. How about another quick one for the road? I want to get out before your husband returns. He might not like it."
She giggled. "Boy! He'd have a fit."
He came back to her. She embraced him obediently and curled against his body. Her arms came around his back.
"Honey, honey," she whispered. "Aw, honey, honey. I wish we could do this often."
"Can't we?" he asked. "You could phone me when you're free. Or come up to my place. I'm in the phone book."
"Maybe I will," she said.
"Maybe you'll find you can't get along without me," Jed murmured, swinging into place.
"You could be right. Gee, he'd be mad, though." Kittie wiggled her hips, sighed with pleasure as he touched her.
He lay quietly then, enjoying the contact with her lush body, moving only sightly to build up the fulfillment. It was nice to relax.
Bang! Bang, bang, bang!
Someone was knocking violently on the closed bedroom door. Even though Jed was expecting it, the crashing sounds gave him a jolt.
"Kittiel You let me in! Why have you got the door locked?"
It was Russell Thorpe's hard, angry voice. Kittie stiffened in cold dismay.
Jed raised up slowly, as though startled and dazed. "Who-who-"
"It's Russell!" she whispered. "Quick-get in the bathroom-"
She tried to push him away.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The door shivered under the blows.
"Kittie! You let me in! Damn it! Who's in there with you?"
"Jed-get away-" she urged, in a frantic whisper. She pushed at him.
"How did he know? I thought you said he didn't come home till-"
"Get away!"
He finally stumbled to his bare feet. As though dazezd, he lurched to the bedroom door, unlocked it, opened it. Russell tumbled in, half-fell over Jed.
Russell recovered his balance, glared unbelievingly at Jed, at his naked wife trying to get up off the bed. The evidence was all too clear.
"You-Jed! With Kittie! You-you louse!"
He struck at Jed. Jed, not so sleepy as he appeared, caught the blow on his upraised arm, and landed a punch where it would hurt most-on Russell's growing paunch.
Russell howled in agony, doubled up. Jed went over to his clothes, to get dressed and get out. Russell followed him. Kittie screamed. The blow landed on Jed's shoulder as he ducked.
He swung around, punched Russell in the jaw. Russell struck back viciously. The blow thumped on Jed's chest. Jed parried with his right, threatened Russell's chin. As the man protected his chin, Jed's left landed squarely on Russell's paunch again. Russell screamed, in sheer fury.
Kittie was squealing, crouching naked on the bed, afraid to go near the men. Jed pranced around naked, avoiding Russell's heavy-toed shoes. He got in another good one on the jaw, and decided with glee that that blow was for Mavis.
Russell's fists pawed the air. He was blinded by anger. Jed got reckless. He came in close for another punch, and Russell's fist collided with Jed's cheekbone. Jed's head snapped back. He had sense enough to dance out of the way as Russell stumbled forward for another chance.
Jed poised on the balls of his feet, waited, parried with his right. Russell's burly form came closer. Pow! Jed connected with the jaw again.
This time Russell sagged, went down in slow motion.
Kittie screaming, climbed down off the bed and fell beside Russell. She patted his cheeks frantically.
"Russell? Honey? Lamby? Lamby-pie?"
Jed laughed, and went over to his clothes. He dressed quickly, keeping a wary eye out for Russell's recovery. He was completely dressed before Russell blinked and opened dazed eyes to look at his naked wife.
"How is lamby-pie?" asked Jed.
Kittie glared. "He'll be mighty angry at you! Hell get back at you!"
"Thanks for the warning, sweet," he said. Russell was coming out of his daze. Jed added, devilishly, "And thanks for the wonderful afternoon, Kittie darling. We must do it again soon." He kissed her on the cheek, his hand casually caressing one of the full breasts.
Russell groaned in reviving anger. "You-louse. You-double-dealing-damned-louse."
"Get out!" said Kittie, righteously.
"Until the next time, baby," said Jed, and strolled out, humming. He felt very good.
It had been a most satisfactory revenge. And he had learned several most interesting facts, in addition.
He whistled blithely as he walked to his car. He felt fine, very fine indeed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Not surprisingly, Jed was rather weary that night and on Saturday. His cheek had a raw bruise on it that needed some medical attention. The rest of his system recovered more naturally from the strain he had put upon it.
He grinned every time he thought of Russell's surprised outrage as Jed had opened the door. Ah, revenge is sweet, very sweet, Jed decided gleefully, especially a revenge so carefully calculated to prick the balloon of Russell's ego. To seduce his new young wife, and then to lick Russell in a fight right in front of said wife-that was very neat. He congratulated himself.
And Kittie had been a nice conquest, unexpectedly good. A bonus, one might say. Sherry with the dinner. Or a glass of stout red wine, one might suggest more appropriately. Yes, that analogy was better. Stout red wine, flushing the cheeks, and heating the body.
Whereas Edythe-Jed's eyes grew wistful and dreamy. Edythe was more like a vintage wine, a champagne of the rarest quality.
By Saturday night he was quite recovered from his bout with Kittie. She had been interesting for the moment, but now that he had satisfied his desire for revenge on Russell he felt little more curiosity to see Kittie again. She was, after all, obvious.
His thoughts turned more definitely to Edythe. He closed his eyes, picturing her in the blue dress, the lights on her blonde hair, her dark blue eyes wary as he questioned her. He pictured her, smiling, as she had lain on the bed, vulnerable, passionate, her unexpected responses inflaming him further. Yes, Edythe was the kind of girl who lingered on in his mind.
If only he knew how to reach her. Jed had tried the telephone company, various friends and enemies. No one would admit knowing how to reach Edythe Westfall. He could have asked his fiance, Andrea Searle, but even if Andrea did know she probably would not tell him. He grimaced. He hadn't thought of Andrea for a while, and now that he had, the memories of her pouting and anger were more vivid than any other memories of her.
He put Andrea out of his mind, deliberately. He did not want to see her now. If only he could reach Edythe. He knew how to entice her to him. If only he could reach her.
He spent Sunday longing for her, thinking of her lithe, slim body twisting in his arms as he built them both up to ecstasy. He had to have her again.
On Monday morning, he phoned her office. She was not in. He was stunned with the keen disappointment. He left a message for her to call, then was on edge all day waiting.
She called at four-ten. When Bess told Jed that Edythe was on the line, he grabbed for the phone like a parachutist pulling the ripcord.
"Edythe!" he said. "Where have you been?"
"Jed? Is something wrong? Has anything happened to Larry?" Her voice sounded scared.
He realized he had sounded too urgent. He tried to smooth his voice and manner. Bess glared at him suspiciously before twitching her hips and strolling back to her desk in the other room.
He lowered his voice and turned his back to the door. "Why, no, Edythe," he said, more calmly. "I was thinking about you last weekend. Some things have come up. Nothing urgent, but I must talk to you soon."
"Talk to me? The way you talked when I came to your apartment?" Her voice was sweetly sarcastic.
He grinned. "I thought you enjoyed our-talk," he said, significantly. "We seemed to have a great deal in common."
Pause. He didn't want her to hang up. He went on hastily.
"But it is about Larry. I've heard a couple more things I want to discuss with you. I didn't realize how deeply involved-" He stopped, deliberately. "Well, we can't talk on the phone. If you won't come up to my apartment, let's meet for dinner somewhere."
"No, No, I can't do that."
"Your apartment then?"
"No! I-I mean, no, that's impossible. I-I guess I'd better come up to your place." Her tone was cold, chill. But he grinned like a satyr about to pounce on an unsuspecting nymph.
"Fine," he said cheerfully. "How about this evening at eight?"
She hesitated. He did not intend to give her time to have sober second thoughts.
"I-I don't know-"
"I'm not free again until Friday, I'm afraid," he lied, deliberately. He would have broken a dozen dates to meet her, but the fact was he didn't have dates made.
"Well-all right." Her tone was sullen. "I'll come up. About eight. But I can only stay a short time!"
"Whatever you say," he said jubilantly.
He hung up, thought a minute, then decided to leave the office for the day so she could not call off the date. He walked out, patted Bess on the shoulder as he went. He hadn't made love to Bess for a while, but she had started being possessive. Just as well to let her fume for a while, and worry.
He occupied himself with buying more champagne, searching for the right flowers. He bought some hothouse violets, several orchids, a dozen roses, and had the girl arrange two vases for him to carry back to the apartment.
The flowers and champagne required two trips up in the elevator, but all was set by a quarter to eight. Jed hummed happily as he changed to his silk dressing gown. Flowers, champagne, warmth, sympathy, and Edythe would be his for another glorious night.
Edythe arrived promptly at eight. As he opened the door to her, she tried to look stern and severe and haughty.
"Edythe! It's wonderful to see you!" he exclaimed exuberantly.
She came in, slowly, as though timid and unsure of herself. He closed and locked the door. He put his hands on her shoulders to take the thin jacket she wore over the rose-colored cotton print dress. She slipped out of the jacket, away from his hands, and walked over to the windows.
As the evenings had grown longer these May weeks, he liked to leave the curtains open to see the brilliant sky reflecting the sunset and afterglow. She stood entranced as the lights of the city flicked on beneath and beyond them. He came up behind her and looked also.
"My favorite view," he said.
"Oh, it's lovely. You're very lucky to have this place. Mine is so dark-" She stopped abruptly.
"Where do you live?" he asked, as though casually. "I was trying to reach you on Sunday, but no luck. What's your home phone number?"
"I don't give it out," she said curtly. "I don't like being disturbed at home." She turned from the windows, went over toward a chair, then paused at the vase of orchids and violets. Her blonde head bent, she sniffed deeply at the violets. "Oh-heavenly. I love violets," she murmured.
He stored up that bit of information for future reference.
She continued to a straight chair and sat down primly, knees straight, feet planted firmly. Only her hands betrayed nervousness, fluttering to straighten her full skirt, to touch her belt, to move the cuff of a sleeve.
"You said-about Larry-" she reminded him.
"Oh, yes." He drew the curtains deliberately, and the heavy red drapes swung shut to close them in together in the intimate warmth. "I learned something the other day. When was it?"
Her hands twisted as he paused to reflect.
"Oh, yes, it was Friday," he went on. "Excuse me a minute. I'll get something to drink."
"I don't care for anything, thank you," she interposed quickly.
"Champagne? I got some good stuff today. I enjoy champagne. Such a civilized drink." He went on out to the kitchen, brought in the bucket of ice, bottle, and glasses.
The pop of the cork made her jerk. She was nervous. But she did not refuse the glass when he offered it. The wine was pale yellow, bubbly, prickling the nostrils, faintly chilled.
He lifted his glass. "To-you, and whatever you want most," he said lightly.
She smiled, sipped. "Urn. Good. I wonder why wine, especially champagne, inspires one to offer a toast? Traditon?"
"I don't know. Champagne, any good wine, always seems like a celebration to me. Perhaps that's it." He sat down on the couch, the champagne bucket near enough to reach without getting up. If he managed this right, within a few minutes, half an hour at most, she would be in his arms. He was amused that his hand was shaking slightly. The excitement of the chase was delightful.
She finished her glass at the same moment he finished his. He filled their glasses again, glad he had a second bottle casually under the coffee table in reserve. He could switch the bottle quickly and inconspicuously.
"You said that on Friday you learned something," she prodded finally.
"Ah, yes. It was then I learned that Russell Thorpe and Kittie spent their honeymoon in Florida last February."
Her face changed expression to a taut alertness. Russell's name had the power to make her wary and anxious.
"So?"
"And Larry was in Florida at the same time."
Her red tongue licked her lips. He watched it eagerly. In a few minutes, those lips might be responding to his, that tongue caressing his. At the same time, he was curious about her reactions.
"Florida is a big state," she said, her blue eyes lowered, the lashes fringing her pink cheeks. "And Larry is a business rival of Russell Thorpe. Are you suggesting they might have made a deal?"
"Russell made some deals. I don't know what Larry had to do with them." He studied her. The news would be out soon if it wasn't already. "At a stockholders' meeting of our firm last Thursday, Thorpe sprang a surprise. He had bought the stock of several small owners and had the proxies of several others."
Her blue eyes opened wide. She gazed straight at him. She was shocked, surprised, and, yes, afraid.
"Does-does he get control then?"
"Not yet. With luck I can keep some control," he said grimly. He did not tell her he was fighting to get proxies or to buy the shares of all the rest of the stockholders that Thorpe had not bought out. "But it was revealed to me that Russell met several of our stockholders in Florida, held business meetings, and talked often with Larry."
"That must have been quite a honeymoon," she said drily.
"Yeah. But that's not for me. When I make love to a woman, I like to give her my undivided attention."
She ignored the remark, though her cheeks turned a deeper pink.
"And Larry was there," she said.
"Yeah. And I doubt if he was playing poker. I understand that he had very little money to spend."
"He has a very good income," she said sharply, as though Jed had attacked her. "I don't know why he's always short of funds."
"But he is?"
She nodded. He took the glass from her, filled it again. She had not noticed a lock of blonde hair that had fallen down across her forehead. She was getting tipsy, looking like a beautiful bacchante. He smiled at her tenderly.
"I never know what he's up to. He won't tell me. He won't confide in me any more. We used to be very close."
"He's in trouble. He doesn't want to get you in trouble," Jed suggested.
She nodded, then shook her head vehemently. "No, no, that's not it." She pushed the lock of hair back, but it bobbed down again. "He's not in trouble. He wants to save me-save-" She stopped, shook her head, muttered something, then drank the rest of the champagne in the glass.
"Save you from what?" urged Jed, too eagerly. She glared at him doubtfully.
"No. No. Larry's a good boy. We're both mixed up, that's all. Both starved. Want love so much, get all mixed up-wrong guys-all mixed up-" She leaned forward, set down the glass, stood up carefully. "I-have to-leave now-" she said, enunciating each word with precision. "I-have to-go home."
"So soon? I thought we'd dance a while. The music is good." He hastened to turn it up. She had almost revealed something, but had caught herself from talking too much. He came back to her where she swayed, took her in his arms.
"I love to dance," she said, her fluid body yielding to his arm. "Father thought-silly waste of time. Love to dance."
"He thought everything but business was a waste of time," said Jed, moving her slowly around the coffee table to a stretch of bare floor. He was feeling the champagne, too. He felt light and bubbly, full of heat and excitement. But part of that feeling came from the pressure of Edythe's hand in his, the pressure of her light body when it touched his.
"That's-right. Love-waste of time." She laughed, bitterly. "So Larry and I-all mixed up. The craving for love-has betrayed me-before this, Jed. Oh, before this. You aren't the first man in my life, you know that."
"I know," he said, next to her ear.
"Betrayed-" she muttered. "Genius for asking-to be betrayed-craving for love-understand that?"
"I can understand, yes," he said.
He was storing away all these little remarks, these revelations. Some day he would be able to put them together like a Chinese puzzle, and they would make a design he would recognize.
"You-understand women. All kinds of women. Easy for you-to make love. Find out what makes a girl tick, then set her swinging like-like a pen-pendulum-tick-tock, tick-tock-"
"That sounds good." He pressed his cheek against her hair, dancing her closer to the bedroom door.
"You're too attractive. Black curly hair, blue eyes-" She leaned back to stare at him. "They're sort of smoky blue. Tall, dark, and handsome. Aren't we women fools, to keep falling for an attractive man?"
"It doesn't seem foolish to me," he said. "It seems very nice. Very natural. The attraction of opposites. You're tall and blonde and a very attractive woman." He swung her inside the bedroom door.
"You like women-too much. Can't trust," she muttered. She must have realized about then that he was directing her toward the bed. She stiffened, jerked away. "Oh, no! I'm not going to-not again-"
"Come on, Edythe," he coaxed, catching hold of her waist. "We had fun last time. You enjoyed it, too."
She shook her blonde head obstinately, pulling rigidly when he tried to draw her to the bed.
"No. No. I won't. I'm leaving."
He caught her closer, pushed her against the wall, used arms and legs and body to hold her as she struggled. She was trying to pull away. But she was tipsy, not in control of herself. And she was weakening, responding to the masculinity of his attack.
"Edythe, Edythe," he murmured, near her ear. He kissed the ear, the flushed cheek, trailed kisses down to her throat. "You want me as much as I want you. Don't fight me."
She flared up in sudden anger. "You do this on purpose. You get me up here to talk about Larry-then you seduce me all over again. Damn you!"
She really fought for a minute, anger making her strong. He held her fiercely tight, wanting her more than ever. She was not just fighting him. She was fighting her own strong and conflicting hungers.
He held on, through the struggle, as she fought to get free of his arms, to slip away from his wooing body. Deliberately, he pressed his hips against hers, so she could feel the hard readiness of his body.
"You like me, really you do," he murmured. "You have hungers, too. Why not enjoy one more night? Why not? Won't hurt anybody. Why shouldn't we enjoy each other?"
"I hate being-used!" she panted, struggling to kick at him.
He laughed, deep in his throat. "In bed? I love being used in bed. Come on to bed, Edythe, and use me."
"Oh-you-devil-"
Her body was abruptly pliant. She stopped struggling. He drew her over to the bed, watching warily for signs of new rebellion. But she had given in completely.
He undressed her, swiftly, delighting in her submission. She let him draw off the cotton dress, lay it aside. Then she let him slide off the slip, to reveal her in rose-pink brassiere and panties. Her white flesh glowed in the light of the bedlamp.
He wasted no time in unfastening the brassiere, releasing her full breasts. He wanted to stop and play with her breasts. Instead he kept to the business of stripping her bare of all confining clothes. He slid down the panties, pulled them off, pulled off shoes and stockings. Then she was naked to his gaze. Eagerly he stared at her, holding her gently in his hands, turning her to look at the sleek back, the rounded hips, the long legs.
"Lie down," he said hoarsely. She lay down obediently across the bed. Her fists were clenching and unclenching. She put one hand on her breast as she watched him undress. The dark blue eyes were dazed, half-closed. He saw how she pressed her hand impatiently on her breast. She was eager for him now.
He ripped off his clothes, stripped naked, and lay down beside her. She turned at once to him, lying on her side. One arm slipped under his head. Yes, she was ready, bubbling over with desire.
He drew her closer, pulled her to him as he lay half on his side, half on his back. She raised up to bend over him. The red mouth came to meet his. When they had kissed, tentatively, her mouth approached his again.
He caught one firm breast in his hand and manipulated it till it was swollen. Then he put his hand on the smooth hips and pulled her to him. They clung together, both eager, ready, impatient for this meeting.
He pressed firmly home, close to the silken flesh. She sighed, softly, open-mouthed, and settled against his body, curling herself to receive him. She was holding him tightly with her hands and arms. His hand on her hips guided her, held her. She smiled before him, receiving, silent, desirous.
His hand stroked the rounded hips. Her leg jerked spasmodically. Her breasts were heaving as she drew faster breaths. He put pressure on her, cunningly, and she writhed, her hips grinding.
He held still, motionless. She jerked away, met him again, seeking to build herself to a peak. He helped her with his hand on her hips, back, forward, around and around.
She rested, panting from her efforts. A fine film of perspiration covered her body. Jed took the initiative from her, held her steady, kissed her hard, again, again, again, putting pressure on her.
She cried out, crumpled up. He felt it as her flesh quivered with ecstasy. He went on, compelled by his own desires, until he hit the peak. They kicked off into space, off, far, high, spinning through the sky, on fire with the sweetest, wildest pleasure the Earth could provide. They clung, wet hands slipping on slick bodies, to prolong the frenzied delight, sliding on the bed, falling on each other, wrapped tight, limbs clutching.
She seemed half-conscious when it was done. He laid her down tenderly on her back, and kissed a swollen breast gently.
He wanted to rest also, but there was something he wanted to do while she was limp.
He got up. "I'll get some champagne to revive us," he said.
She smiled faintly, her eyes still closed, her legs jerking spasmodically.
He went out into the other room, found her pocket-book. He searched it, found a wallet. There was an identification card in it, as he had hoped. There was the address and phone number. He memorized it quickly, with a triumphant grin. Now, he could find her when he pleased.
"Jed?" she called.
"Coming."
He put the pocketbook back where he had found it, picked up the champagne and bucket, and their two glasses, and went back to the bedroom. She was sitting up, slowly, her hands brushing back the long blonde hair that had fallen about her shoulders during their struggles.
"I-ought to-leave," she said.
"Not a chance," said Jed. "The night is young, and you are beautiful. I plan to make this a very memorable occasion. There's more champagne in the kitchen." He filled a glass of the chilled wine, handed it to her with a smile.
He filled his glass, sat down beside her on the bed to drink.
"May I offer a toast this time?" asked Edythe. "Help yourself."
"To-a very memorable occasion," she said, a little devilish grin on her lips. He loved the wicked sparkle in her dark blue eyes.
He drank a few swallows, then bent to kiss a provocative breast that swayed near him. She kept on sipping the champagne as he kissed her breasts and waist.
When their glasses were empty, he set them aside on the table. Edythe lay back, her arms behind her head, her lithe body stretching lazily. He put his hand on the hips that wiggled so delightfully as she made herself comfortable. His thumb smoothed the tender flesh. He bent and kissed her passionately near his hand. The legs were firm and warm, and a tender perfume emanated from her throat.
He bent over the welcoming body, eager to know her again, more thoroughly.
She did not resist any more that night. Rather, she helped him eagerly to make it a most memorable occasion. Long after the champagne was gone, and night had wrapped the city in darkness, they explored with each other's bodies the deep delights of caresses, embraces, movements, convulsions. All the world was lost to them, but the tender touch of mouth on mouth, hands seeking and learning, legs twining, bodies twisting to plunge more deeply into an involvement that seemed to last forever.
Jed learned with his lips every fragile sweetness of her skin, every inch of the woman he desired from the top of her blonde head to the toes on her pink feet. He kissed her with passion, with cunning design to rouse her yet again, with hunger that could not be satiated. He finished, to want her at once again and again. And she was not passive under him. Every nerve of her body seemed tuned to a responding passion. He had only to touch her, to whisper her name, and she vibrated with renewed verve.
They made beautiful music that night, inventing harmonies that only they could hear. When morning came, and she left him, Jed lay still to relive the incredible melodies of that night.
He could hardly believe it. Edythe. The woman of his dreams. Had he dreamed her?
Then he grinned, triumphantly, and leaned up on his elbow. On a note pad beside the bed he scribbled the precious information-the address and phone number of Edythe's apartment.
If she would not return to him-he could still find her!
CHAPTER NINE
But Edythe did return to Jed's apartment. She refused to let him come to hers. She would not have dinner with him in public. Yet night after night, twice a week at least, she would come to his apartment.
She came, as though fighting herself, reluctantly, sullenly sometimes. He would woo her all over again, until she turned to molten passion in his arms, and they would go to bed. Eyes closed, body warm, she would give way to the passions that rocked her. He guessed that love had lain dormant in her for too long. She could not resist the fire boiling in her any more than a volcano can keep the pressures inside tightly bottled.
Between sessions, when they lay close, they would talk. She would talk about Italy, or her childhood, or abstract subjects, but never about Larry or her recent life. He became more and more curious about her. But not even when quite tipsy would she forget her reservations about certain subjects. So he learned to relax completely and enjoy the pleasure of her company without trying to find the answer to the many questions he had about her.
It was enough to have her beside him, her head on his arm, to be able to cup her breast in his palm, to tease her with lips and hands until she fired up and came at him fiercely. After an embrace they would lie closely clasped together, sighing, murmuring, reluctant to be apart.
Soon he was living only for the nights when she came to him. He laughed at himself, ruefully. He had never become so enslaved, so completely bewitched by one woman. No matter how much he had enjoyed a woman in the past, he had always been able to forget her and return to business.
Now, business seemed to have little meaning to Jed. The people around him were cardboard characters whom he scarcely bothered to talk to. Only Edythe mattered. He was completely alive only when they were together. It scared him, when she was out of his sight, to think how dependent he was upon her. If she left, if she grew tired of him, it would be unbearable. He could understand now a man who could kill in a furious rage, when a woman left him. If Edythe left-but no, she would not leave him.
Then, on a Friday night in mid-June, Jed was lying awake and sleepless when the telephone rang. He switched on the bed lamp, and peered at the clock. It was midnight. "Hello?"
The voice was husky, excited. He could not understand the whispered words.
"What? Repeat that. Who is this?" he said impatiently.
The whisper came again. "It's Dan Foust. Come to the warehouse!"
"Who-Dan!" Jed sat up in bed. "What's going on?" It had been so long since he had spoken to Dan that he had practically forgotten the matter.
"Someone's in the warehouse, prowling around. Meet me at the entrance from the parking lot."
"Right! I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Okay," Dan whispered hoarsely.
Jed threw on some clothes, black trousers, a black turtleneck sweater, black shoes, and raced out to the warehouse. He parked in a corner far from the warehouse to lessen the chance of betraying his presence, then walked over to the entrance. No lights were on except a couple of night lights. The entrance was pitch black.
He peered uneasily into the darkness. Then a hand grabbed his arm, pulled him to one side.
Dan's voice murmured, "Here, Jed. We'll go in this way, past my office, clear to the back. That's where they are."
"Who are they? Russell-who else?" Jed hissed, but Dan was already moving forward into the blackness.
He crept in Dan's footsteps, moving blindly. Dan knew every inch of the place, as he had known all the back alleys and hiding places of Pomona in the old days. Following Dan, Jed mused about the man, his friend of a lifetime. Dan had never married. Was it because of his missing arm? Was he more sensitive about that than Jed had ever realized? Some girl was losing out on a great guy, never knowing what she missed. He was loyal, tough, intelligent.
Dan stopped abruptly. Jed bumped into him, then peered around him at the scene before them. His eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness. He could make out a figure moving among the boxes.
The man was carrying a small flashlight. He would flick it on, shielded by his hand, peer at a box, flick off the light, move on to another box.
Dan and Jed watched curiously. The man was not big and bulky. He was tall, dressed in black or dark clothes, slender, wiry, quicksilver in his movements.
Dan shrank back, pushed Jed back behind him. Both heard the tramp of feet. The guard walked past slowly, carrying a huge square light that he held at his left side. His right hand was on a gun at his belt. He paced past. Jed studied his face, frowning. The guard was a stranger to him.
After the guard had passed them, Dan whispered, close to Jed's ear, "One of Thorpe's men. He hired three new men for the eleven-to-seven shift. All my men are on days."
Jed scowled in the darkness. He had been letting business details slip past while he was occupied with Edythe. He should have checked on this. And what about the stockholders? His business could go to hell while he was involved with a woman. Though what a woman, he added. She was worth everything. Even business, control of his company? Well, almost, but not quite.
Dan punched him in the ribs. At the same moment there was a yell, the sounds of a scuffle.
"Get him-hold that louse!" a man yelled.
"The guards caught him," Dan whispered. He held Jed back from dashing forward. "No. Let's see what happens. Russell Thorpe was here earlier. But that guy isn't Russell."
They watched the uneven fight for a few minutes. The intruder fought cleverly, punching, dodging, weaving. He was close to escaping when one of the guards caught him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.
"Okay, I got him! Now beat up the louse!"
The second guard flashed his light on the face of the man in black.
Larry Westfall! At sight of the white, bloody face, Jed dashed forward. The second guard whirled to meet him.
"Hey, bud, none of that!" called Dan sharply. "It's me, Foust. And this is the boss."
The guard peered at Jed, flashing the light blindingly in his eyes. "This ain't Thorpe," he said sharply.
"I'm Jed Kingsley," said Jed. "You men go about your business. I'll take care of this."
The guards hesitated.
"Go on, beat it," said Dan. "Larry, we'll go over to my office."
The guards glared suspiciously, glanced at each other. But Jed took Larry's arm and pulled him with him. Dan led the way back to his office.
Dan switched on the lights. Larry's face was pallid. Blood dripped from ine corner of his mouth. He was shaking with nervous tension.
Jed tried to stop the bleeding with his handkerchief, but the cut bled on. There was a darkening bruise near his eye. The sight of the blond-haired boy was knocking Jed for a loop. He looked so much like his sister.
"I'll take him back to my place," he told Dan. "You want to come?"
"No, I think I'll stick around a while," said Dan. He was eyeing Larry with a cool measuring gaze. "I'd like to know first why you're snooping around this warehouse."
Larry glared at him sullenly. He had not spoken a word.
"Okay, take him," said Dan. "I'll talk to you tomorrow, Jed."
"Right. Come on, Larry." Jed pushed the boy gently to the entrance. "My car is over there." He let Larry go first, keeping a wary eye for any possible escape. But the boy seemed to move in a daze. He got into Jed's car obediently, holding the handkerchief against his mouth.
Halfway through town, the boy seemed to come out of his daze.
"Listen. You don't need to worry about me," he said nervously. "Let me out anywhere around here. I'll get home."
"We have some talking to do first," said Jed curtly. He noticed Larry had his hand on the door handle. "And if you hop out and get away, I'll report you to the police for breaking and entering the warehouse."
"Go ahead and report!" Larry flared out.
"And let your sister bail you out, huh? She must have a full-time job, bailing you out of all the trouble you get into!" Jed was disgusted with the kid.
Larry gave him a strange, long look, then settled back in the seat, leaned his head back and waited for them to arrive somewhere.
Jed parked in the apartment garage and opened his door. He watched Larry to see if he would break and run for it, but the boy went with him up to his apartment.
Inside the living room, Larry stood and looked around curiously.
"Come in the kitchen," said Jed. "I'll get something for that bruise. Has the bleeding stopped?"
Larry took away the handkerchief, and the blood dripped to his chin. "No. It's still bleeding."
"I'll get some ice."
Larry followed Jed out to the kitchen. He sat still while Jed fixed an ice pack and clapped it against the bruise. Jed gave him a cold, wet washcloth for the bleeding mouth.
"I'm a mess, huh?" said Larry. The side of his mouth not covered by the cloth twitched in a sort of wry smile. He looked startlingly like his sister, the slim height, the blond hair, the dark blue eyes so watchful and wary.
Jed drew up a chair opposite the boy. "Okay. What were you doing in the warehouse?"
"Snooping," said Larry, his eyes half-closed. "Why?"
"I'm a born snooper."
Jed glared. "This isn't funny! We've had serious shortages of materials at the warehouse. Is this the first time you've been there?"
"I didn't steal anything."
Jed sighed in exasperation. "Then why in hell were you there?"
"Snooping."
"I should have let Thorpe's guards beat you up!"
"Thorpe's guards?"
"Yeah."
"Not yours?"
"He happened to hire them." Jed changed the subject. "You're a member of a rival business firm. We catch you prowling around our warehouse at midnight. Give me one good reason why we shouldn't put you in jail."
The boy shrugged. "I was just looking around. But put me in jail if it makes you feel better." He laughed shortly. "I'm in more trouble with Thorpe than ever, so-" He stopped abruptly.
"So?"
"So nothing matters," Larry finished flatly, his telltale eyes practically shut.
Jed studied his face, deeply troubled. He did not feel that Larry was an enemy now, any more than lovely Edythe "was. They were rivals, but if Edythe was his enemy he could only hope she kept on being such a delightful one. Battles like theirs he could thrive on.
He caught his straying thoughts and considered the matter. If he had Larry jailed, the boy wouldn't talk. If he let Larry go, his sister might-in gratitude-begin to talk.
"How do you feel now?" he finally asked briskly.
The boy shrugged. "I'm all right."
"Where's your car?"
"At the warehouse."
"Oh. I'll take you home, then. You can pick up your car tomorrow." Jed got up, and began to clear the kitchen table of the ice trays, clothes, washbasin.
"No jail?" asked Larry.
"Not this time."
The boy was silent on the way home. Jed was interested to notice that his home was a small apartment building about four blocks from the address in Edythe's pocketbook.
Larry opened the car door, hesitated. Jed waited.
"Say-listen," the boy blurted. "You'd better watch for a stab in the back." He got out of the car, slammed the door, and raced into the building.
The words haunted Jed all night. He didn't get much sleep. He kept having the same nightmare.
In his dreams he was wandering around in pitch blackness. Then a blazing light flashed on, so bright that he blinked. A slim, tall figure in black struggled with a man Jed recognized as Russell Thorpe. Jed tried to stop the fight. The slim figure fell to the ground. The pallid face, closed eyes, and bleeding mouth were clear in the blazing light. It was Edythe, and she was wounded, dying.
Each time he woke in a cold sweat and sat up, cursing softly.
The next day, he tried to reach Edythe at her office, but it was Saturday.
"Miss Westfall is not in the office today," the impersonal voice of the switchboard operator assured him.
He could call her at home, but that would reveal he knew where she lived.
They had made no date for that night. She had been with him on Thursday night. That meant he probably would not see her again until Sunday or Monday.
He had a date with Andrea that evening. They went to her favorite place, the Maplewood Country Club. Andrea busied herself with table-hopping. Jed refused to go along, and that made her angry. They quarreled, left the Club early, and returned to Jed's apartment.
She finally tried to placate his anger.
"Jed, we've grown apart," she said earnestly, fingering the glass he had handed her. "I don't know what's going to happen if we keep on this way."
"I get tired of that crowd," he said roughly. He could scarcely bear to look at Andrea, because it reminded him so vividly of the way Edythe looked as she sat in that very chair. He gulped his drink.
"But they are my friends, my dearest friends. I've known them since childhood!" She was pouting.
"I thought you said the Greens were new in town," he reminded her coldly.
"They are. But the Fabers are introducing them around, and I've known Joan Faber since we were girls in kindergarten."
She went on and on, then sensed he was all the more angry She came over to him, and put her hands on his shoulders.
"Jed, honey, I know what's wrong," she said confidently, smiling down at him.
He started. Had she heard gossip about him and Edythe?
"What is wrong?" he asked harshly.
"You want to make love to me," she murmured. "You're afraid to ask any more. Darling-don't be afraid of me."
She was so far wrong he wanted to laugh. But that would have hurt her feelings. So they made love. It was a failure. Jed no longer loved, desired, or wanted Andrea Searle. She was too cool, too precise, too passionless, too calculating.
No, he thought, bending over her, kissing her throat as she lay naked beside him. It wasn't fair to say it was all Andrea's fault. Jed had lost interest in her. He had found the woman he wanted, full of passion, fire, complexities, mysteries, a woman who absorbed all his energies and thoughts. He didn't feel like bothering to rouse Andrea out of her well-bred cautious nature.
She knew it. After their mutual failure to find release, she railed at him.
"It's all your fault wanting to make love to me before we got married! If we had gotten married first, this wouldn't have happened!"
He was too exasperated to be kind. "If we had gotten married, you mean it would be too late to back out? Now that we are bored with each other?"
"Bored! Oh, Jed!" She wept, daintily, and he felt like a brute. "Mother warned me! She tried to tell me the dangers of loving a man like you, not in our set."
He stiffened, then relaxed. He deserved that. He had tried to crash her social set. Too bad the social set bored him as thoroughly as Andrea did.
"Next time, listen to your mother," he advised. He lay back, arms under his head, scarcely listening as she rebuked him and wept and berated him and got dressed.
"We are through," she said, when she was dressed and ready to go. She took the engagement ring from her finger. "Next time-oh, Jed! You can be so cruel."
"I'm sorry. But it is better to find out before marriage than after," he said.
"You never really loved me," said Andrea. "You never wanted to set a wedding date. You always put it off. I should have known then."
She did not bang the door when she left. Andrea was usually a lady. Nevertheless, he knew that her exit was final. He felt only relief, no regret.
She was quite right. He had kept putting off their wedding. Even in his elation at being engaged to a girl of the highest social rank in Pomona, he had felt serious qualms about what would come later, what price he would have to pay all his life for the privilege of marrying into that set.
He turned over, and thought about Edythe. Where was she tonight? What was she doing? Was she asleep or awake? Did she know about Larry? She never telephoned him on Sundays. He would probably have to wait till Monday to hear from her. Unless anxiety about Larry made her call earlier, or come to him.
"Edythe," he murmured longing. "Edythe. Edythe. Edythe."
If there was anything to mental telepathy, he would have ordered her to come to him at once, tonight, to ease his loneliness, to delight him with her every charming way.
But she did not come.
CHAPTER TEN
Edythe did not phone Jed on Monday. He waited till late in the afternoon, but impatience made it difficult for him to concentrate on his work. When he couldn't stand it any more, he called her office.
"Miss Westfall has not been in the office today," the impersonal voice of the operator informed him. "I'm sorry I was unable to give her your message."
He hung up, frustrated and worried. Why wasn't Edythe at work? What would happen if he tried her home number?
A new and unwelcome thought jarred him. What if he was not the only man in her life? What if she were away somewhere was another lover?
That thought gave him a horrible scare. He tried to calm himself. He would call again on Tuesday. Surely she would be in by that time.
Monday night dragged by. On Tuesday he phoned her office several times. No, Miss Westfall was not in. They were so sorry. Could someone else help him?
No, no one else could help him.
He hung up, on edge, wild with helpless anxiety. What had happened? Where was she? Why didn't she call him?
About four o'clock, Bess told him he had a call. "It's a lady. She didn't give her name."
Jed raced to the nearest phone. His hands were shaking. "Jed Kingsley here!"
Instead of Edythe's voice, it was the voice of Mavis Thorpe. His disappointment was keen and bitter. He could scarcely speak for a few moments.
"Oh, no, Mavis, you're not interrupting," he said, as she apologized. Where in hell was Edythe? If she had a lover, Jed would hunt him down and strangle him with his bare hands.
"I must talk to you, Jed. There's something I must tell you. It's only gossip, but it might help," she said, nervously.
He put Edythe in the back of his mind, to give attention to business once more.
"What is it? Every little piece of information helps," he assured her.
She hesitated. "Could you come over after work? I don't want to discuss it on the phone."
"Sure. But I can't leave until about six tonight. Would six-thirty be all right?"
"Oh, yes, yes, whenever it's convenient. I'll have dinner for you-that is, if you want to come." She ended the invitation with an uncertain inflection.
Russell Thorpe had done a complete job in ruining her self-confidence, Jed decided savagely.
"I'd love to. I'll bring the sherry."
"All right. I'm afraid all I have here is some brandy."
He stopped in a liquor store just before closing and got a couple of bottles of sherry. He mused about the lonely, shaken woman he was to see. Mavis had changed since her divorce. Now she rarely went out, rarely saw people. It was a shame. He wished he could help her.
Mavis welcomed him with a nervous smile that came and went as though she was afraid of being misunderstood.
"Come in, Jed."
"How are you, Mavis?" he said warmly. She was thinner than ever. And the drab gray dress she wore did nothing for her at all.
"Fine, fine. I thought after I called that I was bothering you unnecessarily. I could have written you a letter about it."
He gave her the bottles of sherry. "You mean, you don't want to see me?" he teased. "Maybe you're afraid to have me in your apartment."
"Oh, Jed! Don't be silly." Her pallor left as she blushed richly, her cheeks turning pink.
"People will talk," he called after her, as she went out to the kitchen.
"Don't worry! They know you have better taste than to bother with a woman like me." Her tone was biting, sardonic.
He frowned. He sat down in an easy chair and relaxed. The apartment was beautiful, in serene blues and greens, with unexpected accents in orange and flamingo red. He liked it-it felt comfortable and welcoming. It seemed more like Mavis than she herself did now. That drab gray dress-he'd like to rip it off her back and throw it away. She had always been lovely in blues, greens, bright shocking pinks.
"Here you are." She reappeared with brimming glasses of sherry. "We'll begin with your sherry."
"Thanks." He accepted the glass. She perched nervously on the edge of a straight chair. Even the sherry did not relax her tension. "I'll tell you what, Mavis. I've had a rough day at the office. I'd like to relax, have dinner, get slightly drunk before I hear any bad news. How about it? Let's postpone the talk until later."
"Why-whatever you say, Jed." She seemed surprised, but she too leaned back. Her hand stopped its nervous twitching, pulling at her dress.
They talked, casually, about movies. She evidently went to movies quite a lot, and watched television, and did things alone. She must spend all her time in killing time, alone, and unable to communicate.
They had dinner at a small walnut table beside the windows. The meal was delicious. Jed kept the conversation light, away from business.
Once, he slipped. "Do you live alone?" he asked.
A shadow passed over her face. "Yes, quite alone. I'm like a widow. Only a divorcee is different. A widow can have her pride, her memories. A divorcee has no pride left, and all her memories are sour."
"You ought to forget Russell." he advised, bluntly. "You're still young and attractive. Date-go out. Find another man. Get married. You're too fine a woman to waste your life because one man is cruel."
"Oh, don't-don't advise me, Jed! You don't know how it is." She put a shaking hand over her mouth until she had regained control. "I'm sorry."
He switched the subject, lighting a cigarette for her and then himself. "Want to talk business now?"
"Yes. We might as well. I'll begin by telling you I've heard about Larry Westfall getting into the wan house."
"Who told you?" he asked sharply.
"A woman you don't know. Donna heard it directly from Kittie Thorpe. She must have heard it from Russell."
"Hm." Jed frowned. The guards had reported to Russell. But he would not have told Kittie about it, unless he wanted it gossiped around.
"I hadn't realized that Russell was still involved with the Westfall Company," Mavis went on. "About the time Russell asked me for a divorce, he was seriously considering leaving your company and joining the West-falls. Did you know that?"
"No. I hadn't heard." Jed gazed at her steadily. She would not lie to him, but he was stunned and unbelieving. "So Larry is somehow involved with Russell."
"I don't think it's quite that way, Jed. My impression is that Larry hates Russell."
"Then Russell has some hold on Larry."
Mavis shook her graying blonde head. "No. No, that isn't it. Do you believe in women's intuition?" She smiled faintly.
"Completely," said Jed firmly.
"I've had a feeling. And from what I've heard and seen, just bits and pieces of gossip, I believe that Russell has some hold on Edythe Westfall. She nas changed these past few years, changed completely. I rarely see her, of course. But no one in town in the old crowd sees her, either."
"What-hold?" asked Jed. feeling cold to his spine.
"I don't know. But through Edythe, he has a hold on Larry. And somehow a hold on their company as well. Knowing Russell, I would guess the hold was something tricky and dirty that he has pulled," she ended bitterly.
"So Larry is trying to protect his sister, not himself." Jed's mind was a welter of conjecture and supposition.
"Yes. I think so."
He thought about it. leaning back in his chair, sipping the sherry. Mavis was silent, letting him think. She was a comforting woman, a kind and straightforward woman. Damn Russell!
Jed finally stirred. It would take some more thinking, and probably a tough no-holds-barred session with Edythe to find the right answer.
"I'm grateful, Mavis," he said slowly. "I need some more answers. But now I won't be groping in the dark."
She smiled, in warm, gentle understanding. "I'm glad. I almost didn't call. Then I thought, no, I'd tell you, and let you be the judge of how important it is."
"Thanks. Thanks a million. I wish I could thank you properly."
"You have."
He remembered his wish to help her. If her ego had been blasted, maybe he could help rebuild it. "You know, Mavis, I'm going to say some honest truths to you." He smiled to soften his threat. "I don't know what Russell did to you, but you ought to be shot for taking it lying down. Why don't you get up and fight?"
"Oh, please, Jed. Don't I" She pushed back her chair to rise. He got up also, took her arms in his hands.
"Don't run, Mavis. I'm your friend, in case you forgot you had some friends. Why don't you wipe Russell out of your life? Why don't you go out and start to live? Find a man who has brains enough to appreciate a wonderful woman like you."
Her head moved negatively, her eyes closed. "You don't know. You don't know."
"What did he say to you?" He shook her sharply.
She opened her eyes, the misty blue eyes dimmed with tears. "He said I was no longer a woman. He said I'm no good in bed. He said I have no sex appeal. He said I'm cold, frigid, stupid, old. Old, old, old!" Tears ran down her cheeks.
"Well, that louse is a damned liar," said Jed, fiercely. "You're younger than he is. I have-" He stopped abruptly. He had been close to revealing Kittie's bitter complaint about her unsatisfactory husband.
She shook her head. "No. No. It's true. I'm frigid. I'm finished as a woman. I'm cold. I can't respond."
Deliberately Jed bent his head. He put his mouth against hers. Her mouth was soft, trembling, but unresponsive.
"I've got a hunch that he's dead wrong. Want me to prove it?"
She stared up at him. "Jed, don't be kind. I can't bear it."
"Kind? I'm just a woman-chaser," he kidded. "Let's see if you're a woman worth the chasing."
She winced. "I'm. not. Let me alone. Just let me alone."
"I'll let you alone on one condition."
She fell neatly into his trap. "All right. What is it?"
"Come to bed with me. If I can't prove in a couple of hours that Russell is wrong about you, I'll get up and leave."
She swallowed nervously. "Jed, I'm not in the mood for jokes. Let me alone. Don't try anything silly."
He drew her firmly to the bedroom. "We made a bargain. Come along. Let's see how much of a woman you are."
He made her go through with it. She stood stiffly while he ripped off the gray dress and threw it in a corner.
"Jed-my dress!"
"After tonight, if you wear anything that horrible, I'll beat you and rip the stuff off your back. You look awful in gray."
"Jed, I'm forty-one years old!"
"Then you'd better start to live, woman. Life begins at forty."
She did not smile, and she was taut and shaking as he drew off her other clothes. In bed, she pulled up a sheet, as though she could not bear for a man to see her thin frame.
Jed stripped, aware she was watching him timidly. He turned off all but one light, the bedside light. He enjoyed love, and he enjoyed watching his partner's face as she lost herself in ecstasy.
He lay down beside her. She was trembling. He drew her into his arms. He bent over her, kissed the soft mouth, the thin throat, the bony, slim shoulders. Then he cupped a breast in his hand. It was full, warm. He squeezed it tenderly, played with it. He slid down until he was under the sheet, and began to kiss her all over her slim body. He kissed the breasts until they were swollen, burgeoning in his skillful hands.
For a long time she lay passive. He even worried a little that he might lose his gamble. She stood to lose everything if he failed with her. But he was determined not to fail.
His hands sought the slim waist. His lips followed, wooing, caressing the silken flesh. His hands moved down the slim hips, and then his lips took possession of everything that arrived. He kissed her, caressed, stroked, his hands and lips tireless in their exploration and titillation of her warmth.
And finally her stiffness broke. Her hips moved, her body responded. He felt her readiness, and smiled in satisfaction. He moved to lie closer to her, bending on knees and elbows near her, crouching in loving desire for her. He studied her face in the light of the lamp. Her eyes were closed, her mouth parted. Her head turned back and forth on the pillow, restlessly.
Her breathing was rapid, shallow. Her pulses were quickening to his touch. Gently he pressed on her. She gasped. He pushed farther, his hands under her, holding her, cradling her. He put his head on her breast, kissing the swollen flesh as he moved skillfully.
He built her up and up. He did his best to tantalize her. He held her, letting her feel the full strength of his masculinity. This time, when he moved, he felt her move too, as though she would follow.
He encouraged her.
"Work with me, Mavis. Work with me. That's right, honey."
He drew back. She raised her body, timidly. He caught her in both hands and raised her higher.
Next time she seemed more passionate. Her arms clasped around him more tightly. Her hands fluttered on his back. He watched her face. She was losing control.
A little sigh escaped her lips. He touched her over and over, enjoying the softness and warmth and nearness. He moved faster.
He could not hold out much longer. He could feel himself building up to a peak.
She cried out, clutched at him. Oh, at last. He settled down. They swung off the Earth together, bodies rolling back and forth, lunging off the peak and flying high into an ecstatic swirling heaven of delight. Her thoughts quivered as she clutched him, loosened, clutched again. He finished, feeling the savage primitive satisfaction of the male who has taken his pleasure and given some back in abundance.
He rolled away. They both panted for breath. When Jed had recovered, he leaned up and grinned at her.
"Verdict?" he demanded.
She smiled shyly, her lashes fluttering on her cheeks.
"Oh-Jed," she said dreamily. "Are you a woman?"
"Oh-yes-oh-yes-that was so lovely."
"Don't ever forget it." He leaned over, kissed her breast lightly, then as desire rose in him again he pushed at her roughly.
"Jed, you don't need to stay. You've proved your point," said Mavis, her hand gently caressing the back of his neck as he kissed her. "I'm grateful."
"No more gray dresses?"
She laughed softly. "Tomorrow I'll buy the brightest red silk dress I can find and wear it proudly. Who knows? Maybe I'll find a new husband-a guy like you."
"Before you do-" said Jed, his voice muffled, his head under the sheet.
"Oh-what are you doing?" she asked, in a startled voice, as he caressed her boldly.
"Before you find someone else," said Jed. "I want-more-"
"Oh-J-Jed-oh-oh-" Her hips writhed. He held her still with his hands and delighted in her swift, rising response to him.
He stayed all night. Mavis had remembered she was a woman, and Jed was crazy about the results.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jed had been able to forget his worries about Edythe for the night. But the worries returned the next day. All Wednesday, all Thursday, he wondered why she did not call His calls to her office brought only the cool reply, "Miss Westfall is not in the office today. Would you care to speak with Mr. Larry Westfall?"
His suspicions grew. Edythe, under the chill exterior, was a fiercely passionate woman. It was entirely possible that she had another lover. Or she might have tired of Jed, and decided to drop him abruptly in favor of another temporary lover. This might be the reason for her secrecy, the reason why she refused to give Jed her address and home phone number. She wanted to be able to shake off a lover as soon as she wearied of him.
His jealousy was raging. He pictured Edythe in the arms of another man. She was too beautiful to be ignored by men. Someone else had discovered the fierce volcano of passion that seethed below the snows of her cold manner.
He could not endure another weekend of torment and wondering. Even knowing a bitter truth would be better than uncertainty. When he could not reach her at the office on Friday, he decided to go to the address he had seen in her wallet. At six o'clock on Friday, then, he parked his car near the address and walked to the door.
The building was one of a series of drab, aging, stone apartment buildings in an old section of the city. He had passed the buildings dozens of times, never thinking consciously about them or their occupants.
He walked into the lower hallway, examined the row of mailboxes. Yes. There it was. A neat "E. Westfal!" printed on one of the boxes. It was marked Apt. 4.
There was a self-service elevator at the back of the hallway. He took it to the fourth floor. On the right side of the entrance to the fourth floor was a door marked "A." On the left was a door marked "B."
His heart thumping, he knocked at the door. For a moment he heard nothing. Then footsteps clicked to the door. The door opened a crack. A gold chain barred the way. Edythe looked out at him. Her dark blue eyes grew wide, scared.
"Jed!"
"Hello, Edythe."
"Go away. I don't know how you found me, but go away!" She was angry. Underneath the anger was a real fear. Why was she afraid of him, after all this time? She tried to close the door.
"Edythe, I must talk to you!" He put his foot firmly in the door so she could not close it.
"I'll call you," she said curtly. Now he could see only one blue eye.
"I've waited all week for you to call. Didn't Larry tell you about our finding him in the warehouse last Friday night?"
The door opened one inch wider. "No, he didn't tell me."
"Let me in. I want to talk to you."
"I'll call you later," she said desperately. "Please, Jed! I'll phone. Or I'll come to your place. Really I will."
There was something in the apartment she did not want him to see. Even her anxiety over Larry would not overcome another fear. Jed was all the more determined to come in.
"I'm not going to wait around, only to get a brush-off," he said, with pretended fury. "I'll go to the police and tell them to go ahead and put Larry in jail. You've shielded him long enough. The boy is evidently a thief."
"He isn't! Oh, Jed, he isn't." Edythe hesitated, torn between fears. "Please, let me come over to your place-tomorrow. I'll come tomorrow."
Jed turned away. "Tomorrow is too late. I'm calling the police tonight." He felt mean and nasty, but it worked. As he started toward the elevator, she called after him.
"No! No, Jed! Come back. I'll let you in. Jed!" She unlatched the door and opened it.
He went back at once before she changed her mind.
He entered the apartment. It was done in blues and white and gold, a lovely place. Very quiet and peaceful, he decided. What was she hiding?
She sent a fearful glance toward the back hall of the apartment after she had locked and bolted the door.
"Sit down, Jed. Tell me about Larry." She perched nervously on the edge of the chair.
Then came a voice-loud, wailing, clear-from a back room. "Mama! Mama! Mamaaaa!"
Edythe jumped up, her face pallid. She stared at Jed, who was still standing. Without a word she went out to the back hall, to one of the bedrooms. He followed, numbly.
In the darkened bedroom was a child's crib. A chubby, blond-haired boy was standing up, holding to the rail of the crib, his blue eyes wide as Edythe and Jed came in the room.
Edythe soothed the boy. "It's all right, Greggie. Mama's here." She picked him up, and cuddled him in her arms. The small boy was dressed in white sleepers. He yawned, stared curiously at Jed over his mother's shoulder as she carried him over to a nearby chair.
A huge woman loomed in the doorway as Jed turned. She scowled at Jed.
"It's all right. Pauline," said Edythe quickly. "This is Jed Kingsley."
"I'll take care of Greggie," said the woman gruffly. She went over to the boy.
"Mamaaaa!" demanded the boy. Edythe leaned over him, kissed him, whispered to him.
"Let's go back to the living room," Edythe said then. She led the way back. As Jed left the bedroom, the baby boy twisted his head around to gaze after them. His eyes were exactly like Edythe's.
Jed felt as though he had been punched in the head. He was groggy. Of all the developments, he had never imagined this. Edythe-with a child. He was numb. He couldn't think.
Edythe sat down, leaned her head back with a sigh. Color had returned to her cheeks.
"Greggie was sick this week," she explained. "I didn't want to leave him. I haven't been to the office. He has almost recovered now."
"Greggie is-your child?" asked Jed. Maybe he was Larry's instead. Maybe what he had concluded was wrong.
"Yes, he's mine. I suppose I'll have to tell you now."
"You don't have to," said Jed, rather coldly. He didn't want the lurid details of her affair.
"It's what you've been after me to discover for weeks," she said, with a tired smile. "Greggie is sixteen months old. He is my child-and Russell's-Russell Thorpe."
A cold knife struck Jed in the heart. He could not move or speak. Edythe's head rested on a cushion, and her dark blue eyes studied him dispassionately.
She continued, "About three years ago, I fell crazily in love with a married man. Russell. He told me he wanted to divorce his wife and marry me. He was gentle, kind, sweet. I trusted him completely. I was wildly happy. So-he got his divorce from Mavis Thorpe, and we were married."
Jed began to breathe again. Somehow he had not wanted to believe that Edythe had had an illegitimate child.
"For some reason, he wanted to keep our marriage secret. I never knew why. But that worked out for the best for me." Edythe's lovely mouth twisted. "We had not been married three months before he had taught me to hate him. I discovered that the sweet, kind man was a front-the slick facade of a ruthless and cruel man. He wanted the Westfall Company. He wanted money and power. I walked out. He was furiously angry. But I never let him know I was pregnant. The divorce was final. It cost Larry and me some company stock, though. I've, fought to buy it back, even at double the value, but I can't get him to sell."
The pieces began to fall into place.
"He did the same to Mavis," Jed said. "The cost of her divorce was some of her stock in my company. That must be why he wanted to keep your marriage secret. He might not have been able to extract the stock from Mavis, in spite of his public humiliation of her, if she had known he was about to marry you."
"I see. Yes, that explains. Well, I hid the baby from him. I got this apartment, and Pauline guards Greggie when I'm not here. But somehow Russell found out about my child. He threatens to take him away from me unless I sell him a controlling interest in West-fall. I don't know whether he can get my baby or not. I've been frantic."
"So that's why Larry is so worried. But why was he prowling around the warehouse?"
"I don't know. Larry has tried to protect me and the baby. He has done things for Russell I don't know how much money he has 'lost' to him at poker. The poor boy is always out of funds. I have begged him to let me work it out. But Larry keeps trying to buy Russell off. And Russell gets greedier. I think he is power-mad."
Jed sat silent, thinking over the stunning revelations of the past few minutes. He saw Larry and Edythe in an entirely different light, tormented, worried, scared, naive, trying to protect the baby from a cruel man who happened to be his father. Russell was cold-bloodedly using their protective feelings for the child to further his ambitions.
Edythe left the room again, explaining that she wanted to get the baby's dinner. Jed did not want to leave. He wanted to figure out some answers for Edythe. She seemed to be in a trap she could not escape. Try as he would, he could not think how best to protect her from Russell.
Finally he got up and went out to the kitchen. Pauline was fixing dinner. Edythe was feeding Greggie. He was sitting in a high chair, his right hand pounding the tray in front of him.
"No, no, no!" he was saying sharply.
"What's the matter?" asked Jed.
Edythe smiled. "He wants to feed himself. But he turns the spoon over and all the food goes on the floor. Come on, honey. Take a bite."
The baby stared up at Jed, his attention caught by the stranger. His mouth opened like a bird's to accept the food she offered. Jed leaned against the door frame, studying the child. He saw little resemblance to Russell. The boy was exactly like Edythe and Larry.
When the baby had been fed, Edythe gave him to Pauline to care for.
"How about going out to dinner with me?" Jed invited Edythe. She hesitated.
"You go on," said Pauline unexpectedly. "You haven't been out of the apartment for a week."
"Well-all right," she agreed.
Jed waited while she changed her clothes and kissed Greggie good-bye. Greggie said some words, but no one could translate.
In the car, Jed said casually, "He's a lot like you."
"Yes. Actually I think Russell used to be a different kind of person. Rather nice, in fact. It's a desire for money and power that changed him."
"That could be. I never thought he was after my throat until this spring. I don't think he was in the beginning."
"I wish I knew what to do!" she burst out, her hands clenched tightly. "It's horrible to be afraid all the time."
"Don't be afraid, Edythe. We'll work it out," he reassured her.
"I don't want to drag you into this."
"I'm already in, up to my throat, which Russell is dying to slit," he reminded drily.
She shivered.
During dinner he thought of one solution. But he did not mention it until they were back at his apartment. She had come willingly, he was glad to see.
"I thought of what we can do about Greggie," he said, when they were sitting on the couch.
"Oh, what? Tell me."
"You can marry me. I'll adopt him legally. That will cancel out any efforts of Russell to get him."
She was already shaking her head. "No. No, I can't involve you like this. You don't know Russell, how mean and cruel he can be."
"I'm already involved."
"Not with me. Not with his son. No, I won't listen. We can't even consider this."
She refused to listen, putting her hands over her ears when he tried to persist. She did agree to going to bed with him. He undressed her, touching her with tender hands. He loved her. He knew that now. He was completely bound up with her. Whatever hurt her would hurt him.
In bed, she turned to him, seeking him. He held her carefully, his hand stroking her silken limbs.
"Edythe, I love you," he said, meaning this phrase as he had never meant it before. "I love you. Darling. Darling."
"Oh, Jed. Don't mix me up. I mustn't think about love." Her blonde head cuddled into his shoulder.
"Why else did you keep on coming to me?" he asked huskily.
"The same reason you kept on wanting me." Her low voice was devilish. "Don't you realize a woman has hungers too?"
"And I don't mean anything to you but a satisfactory partner in bed?" His fingers trailed warmly down her spine.
"I didn't say that." She curled closer, her long legs seeking his.
He pretended to be hurt and stiff, holding her off. "You're using me," he accused, "I thought you liked being used-in bed?" She teased him with his own words to her.
Her hands were busy on his body, her skillful fingers tormenting. He couldn't keep up an act much longer.
"If you don't love me-" he began.
"Don't talk about love!" she said, impatiently.
"Why not?"
"People talk about love too much. They use empty words. They don't know what love is. They use the word to deceive."
Then he understood. Edythe no longer believed a man who said he loved her. She believed only in actions, in love-making, in caresses, and even more in gentleness tenderness, consideration.
He gave up trying to talk to her about love and marriage. He showed her with his hands, with his body, that he loved her. He drew them together and held her with loving hands, his kisses nuzzling her throat. One hand cupped a breast, squeezed it and played with the firm flesh. He bent his head over her, kissed, adored, caressed her, until her hands on his back began to urge him.
"Jed, Jed," she murmured. "Jed?"
He bent, explored, found, slid easily against her flesh. His head on her breast, he heard the quickened pounding of her heart as he proceeded slowly.
As he made love to her, he thought of the other times she had come to him. Sometimes he had been rough with her. He felt bad about that. If he had only realized, only known her doubts and fears, and had wooed her instead of taking her by force. But then again, if he had been gentle the first time, she would have left his apartment and he would never have known what he had missed.
Women were strange complex creatures, he decided, especially women like Edythe.
Her breathing was hard. She panted open-mouthed as he moved over her. "Jed, Jed, darling. Jed-Jed-oh, my darling."
He paused deliberately. He held up, and she clung to him, building up her passion. He smiled down at the intent face, the half-closed blue eyes, as she drove herself in a delighted frenzy.
When she tired, he moved again, a single stroke to drive them up to take-off point. She cried out, her fingernails digging in his back. Then they were rolling iver and back across the bed, dizzy with desire, Earth swept away, sky open for them, like flying, free-falling through the air. Jed saw stars behind his tight-closed eyes, stars and flashes of light as the delicious convulsions swept him through a timeless atmosphere of pure joy.
When he came back to Earth, he found Earth was a beautiful heaving breast on which his head rested. One arm was under her, one hand on her hips, and his legs still sprawled. He rolled away to let her catch her breath. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted as she struggled to remain in the paradise they had visited all too briefly.
He leaned up to look at her. She was more beautiful every time, he thought. Her blonde hair was tousled on the pillow, her lovely oval face flushed pink with exertion, her breasts taut and pointed, and her white skin dewy with perspiration. He studied the slim waist that twisted and curved when they had their loving battles. The long sleek arms that received him so graciously. The long legs, stirred, a knee bent languidly as she came back to full consciousness.
When he looked again at her face, her eyes were open.
"Hello," he said. "Hello, darling."
"Hello," she said. She reached up her arms and he bent over to receive her kiss. It was better than all the protestations of love he had ever heard from any other woman, this kiss of parted lips, aftermath of passion, promise of more passion to come.
The kiss led naturally to further intimacies. He turned her over on her stomach so he could kiss and explore the slender back. She lay quietly for a while until he had stirred her beyond waiting. Then she flung around and pulled him down to her.
There was no need for words. They met with frank hunger, and made sure each was satisfied, using each other, helping each other to end the hunger.
He slept sometime in the night. When he wakened he reached out for her in the darkness, fearful that she was gone, that she had left him before when he slept.
This time she was there, beside him under the single sheet, sleeping next to him, her breathing slow and calm. He put his head on the pillow beside hers, and exulted in the strange feeling he had.
He did not need to wake her and make her respond to him. He knew, deep in his inner being, that now they belonged to each other. She did love him-she proved it with each embrace.
He vowed he would make her marry him soon. He wanted to marry her, to have the right to protect and cherish, her. And her son, he thought. He smiled as he thought of the wide-eyed boy. He wanted to adopt the boy, and to have other children. Edythe would be a wonderful wife and mother. He had been seeking all his adult life for a woman like her.
Yes, they would marry. Build a house-a big house, big enough for a large family. And they wouldn't care about how often they got to the country club, or what anyone thought of them.
Edythe, he thought, full of incredulous delight. He had almost missed knowing her. But the fates had been kind, and she was here beside him.
He touched her shoulder lightly. She wakened, murmured drowsily, "What time is it?"
"Time for more love," he murmured, bending over her.
Her sleepy laugh was smothered in kisses.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After Edythe left, early on Saturday morning, Jed felt very lonely and impatient. He never liked waiting for things to happen. He wanted to rush Edythe off to get married, defy Russell, and end the worries that plagued both Edythe and Larry. Now that he knew what the true situation was, he wanted to act.
But he could not do anything without Edythe's consent. So he had to wait and be patient. He had never had a large store of patience-quite the contrary.
Sunday dragged. He was glad to be back at work on Monday. It was something to do. He was able to complete the deal to buy stock from two of the smaller stockholders in the Crown Company. That gave him 36 per cent control, and he was happy about that. If he could get 15 per cent more, Russell Thorpe could not harm him.
On Monday afternoon about 4:30, Bess brought in an office memo and laid it on his desk in front of him. From the suppressed excitement in her face, he realized the memo was important.
He read it, read it through once more.
"Thorpe is calling a special meeting of the stockholders tomorrow afternoon," he said aloud, so he could hear the words, "Why in hell is he-"
"I don't know. And he handed the memo to me personally and said to give it to you at once. Then he walked out of the building. He won't be back till one o'clock tomorrow afternoon, the time of the stockholders' meeting. I bet he's got some dynamite up his sleeve!"
Jed frowned. He looked at the memo again. "How can he get all the stockholders together so fast? Three of the men are still out of the city. Maybe he has then-proxies."
"All I know is he told me to set six chairs around the table, including the one for me," Bess offered, her eyes sparkling.
"Six," Jed muttered. "Six. I wonder who's back."
He phoned all the homes, but only Mavis Thorpe answered at her apartment. She had been notified by phone of the meeting.
"What's going on, Jed? What is Russell up to?" She sounded alarmed.
"I wish I knew."
At least the waiting would end, he thought, as he hung up. Whatever Russell had been maneuvering for must be within his grasp. This was not, could not be, a routine meeting.
Jed now had 36 per cent of the control. Mavis had 12 per cent and would probably vote with Jed. That was 48 per cent. Thorpe owned or had proxies for 40 per cent, unless-Jed winced. Unless Thorpe had managed to buy more, or get control over more.
Jed had just arrived at his apartment that night when the telephone rang. He went to get it, pitching his hat toward the couch.
"Hello? Jed Kingsley here."
"Oh, Jed! This is Edythe. Oh, Jed, what is he doing?" She sounded scared and panicky, her voice trembling, not like her usual controlled self.
"Russell Thorpe, you mean?"
"Yes. He phoned. He wants Larry and me to attend a stockholders' meeting of the Crown Company tomorrow at one. Why, Jed, why?"
Jed sank slowly into the chair beside the phone. "Wait-wait a minute, honey. Let that sink in. He wants you and Larry to come-"
"Yes. Yes! Why should we appear at your stockholders' meeting? What do you have on the agenda?" She was beginning to calm down and sound more business-like, but Jed was beginning to get panicky.
"Are you the only stockholders in the Westfall Company, you and Larry?" he asked.
"Oh, no. There's Russell. He owns about 10 per cent. And there are-let me see-five others who own some."
"Hmm. Evidently they weren't asked. I don't know, Edythe. I don't know why the meeting was called. Russell called an unusual and hurried meeting. Several of our stockholders are out of town, so it can't be anything tremendous. We would have to have more advance notice, proxies must be gathered-" All the time he was reassuring her, frightening pictures formed in his own mind. Russell would not move prematurely. He must be sure of his ground. What in hell was he doing?
"Well, that makes me feel better," Edythe said at last, her voice calm and controlled once more. "I do own 56 per cent of our stock, and Larry owns 22 per cent Russell certainly can't outvote us, no matter what he has up his sleeve."
"That's good news," said Jed. "We don't have to let him stampede us into any rash decisions either. I think Mavis Thorpe will vote with me-with our side. The rest of our stockholders are out of town."
She sighed deeply. "I just wish I knew what he was maneuvering for."
"We'll find out tomorrow. How is Greg?"
"Oh-he's about over his cold." Her voice was suddenly reserved, shy. "What did you think of him?"
"He's a great guy. Looks just like you. I'd like to adopt him."
"Oh, Jed. Now don't start-"
"You started it, when you came to my apartment the first time," he teased. "When are you going to marry me?"
"Jed, I'll hang up!"
"Come on over," he urged. "We could-talk some more." His tone deepened suggestively.
"No, absolutely not. After one of our talks, I'm completely exhausted. I would never make it to the meeting."
He bad thought his teasing would help her forget the meeting. But the worry of what Russell might spring on them was uppermost in their minds.
They talked a little longer. He reassured her, and she sounded more cheerful when she hung up. However, he was not reassured himself. Russell was power-crazy, and he had become tricky as the devil.
If Jed had only known that Russell Thorpe was going to become like this, he would never have gone into business with him. The trading stamp business was a difficult, arduous field, and if he couldn't trust his associates it would become impossible.
Jed paced the floor until his legs were tired. Then he drank some wine to relax him and make him sleepy, and went to bed. Tomorrow, he had a hunch, would be very rough.
On Tuesday afternoon, shortly before one o'clock, Edythe Westfall and her brother Larry came to Jed's office. Both were visibly nervous. Edythe looked very attractive in a blue silk sheath dress, appropriate to the warm June weather. Her blonde hair was in a severe upsweep and she looked like the businesswoman she was.
Larry looked like he had been up all night for too many nights. He smiled sheepishly at Jed, though, and shook hands.
"I guess I didn't ever thank you for the rescue at the warehouse. I'm grateful," he said.
"I'd still like to know what you were doing there," Jed hinted.
Larry clammed up. "Just snooping," he said defiantly.
Edythe looked at him with troubled dark blue eyes.
Jed glanced at his watch. "About time. Shall we go?"
Edythe swallowed nervously. "All right. I'm ready." Her back seemed to stiffen as she straightened her shoulders.
Mavis Thorpe was in the board room when they entered. She was standing at one of the windows. She turned. Her face showed surprise as she saw Edythe and Larry.
Jed introduced them formally.
Edythe smiled and said, "We have known each other for some time, though I haven't seen you recently."
"Yes, that's right," said Mavis. She was looking lovelier than she had recently in a rose linen suit accented with darker rose hat and gloves. The gray in her hair was evident, but her hair had been waved in soft precise waves close to her head, and she looked younger and happier than she had.
"Shall we sit down?" Jed suggested.
Bess came in, followed by Russell Thorpe, as Jed was seating Mavis and Edythe.
"If you don't mind, Jed," said Russell, brusquely, excitement blazing in his eyes, "I'll take the head of the table."
"The devil you will," said Jed. "Just because you have proxies-"
Russell laughed, and sat down at the head of the table. "Oh, better than that," he sneered. "I bought out all the stockholders but you and Mavis. I own 52 per cent of Crown Company!"
Jed stared at him. He heard Mavis gasp, whisper, "Oh, no," in a frightened Little voice.
So this was what Russell had been doing. But how had he persuaded the stockholders to sell? And why had he invited the Westfalls to come? Jed sat down slowly beside Edythe on one side of the table. Russell was flanked by each of his former wives, as Mavis sat at his right with Larry beside her, and Edythe was at his left with Jed beside her. Bess was seated at the small table near Russell, ready to take notes on the meeting.
Russell whipped through the reading of the minutes of the last meeting and the old business. He was grinning, confident, his stocky body seeming to sway back and forth in the sturdy leather chair. He was really excited, thought Jed, watching the reddened face of the middle-aged man he had trusted for several years.
Russell leaned back for the reading of a motion, swayed forward for the vote. Edythe and Larry watched him with hypnotized fascination. They were both afraid of him, scared half to death, Jed realized.
Jed was still stunned at the revelation that Russell had controlling interest. The way Russell was going, Jed would have little say from now on. About the only thing he could do was to sell out and hope to start all over again somewhere else. It was finished, ended, for Jed, in this company and probably' in this city. Russell had what he wanted-power. And he had taken over after Jed had built the company to what it was with his own hard work.
Jed was numb through the early part of the meeting.
Then they came to the new business. Russell waved aside the efforts Bess made to proceed in orderly fashion. "There's only one piece of new business I'm interested in," he boomed. "And that is-I'm proposing a merger of the Crown Company with the Westfall Golden Stamps Company."
There was a long pause. Silence, as the other five people in the room stared at the grinning, jubilant man.
Jed stirred from his numb trance. "How can you pull that off, Russell?" he asked angrily. "You don't own controlling interest in Westfall."
Edythe said, in a cool emotionless voice, "I own 52 per cent, Russell. You have not consulted my brother and me. We have not agreed to this." She sounded calm enough, but Jed saw her hands were clasped in her lap, the fingers so tightly clenched that the knuckles were white.
Russell smiled directly at Edythe, his eyes glowing, significant. "Oh, you will agree, my dear. You will agree. We must discuss this at length, privately. I know we can reach a-settlement."
This would be his price to let Greggie alone, Jed realized. From Edythe's white face, she must realize it also. Russell had let Larry and Edythe dangle in uncertainty all this time. Now they knew the worst.
"There are other stockholders," said Larry, remotely, as though realizing it would not help.
"There were other stockholders," said Russell, triumphantly. "I have bought them out. I have 22 per cent of Westfall, just as much as you do, Larry boy. I have 22 per cent of Westfall and 52 per cent of Crown. And I make a motion we merge the two companies. I, naturally, will assume the presidency."
"Not yet," said Jed, coldly. His hand gripped Edythe's arm. "We won't vote today. There are matters to be checked. For instance, we have only your word that you own 52 per cent stock in Crown. I want proof, in writing, before any voting is done."
"Listen, you louse, I'll get that proof right now! We'll vote right now on merging!" Russell leaped to his feet, furiously angry, his face beet red.
"Not yet. Not until we have legal proof," said Jed. "You're not going to stampede us into anything. I'll fight you to the wall before I give up everything I've worked for all these years." He glared back at Russell.
Russell shouted incoherently, shaking his fist at Jed. Edythe shrank back against Jed. Russell turned on her.
"You'll vote for merger! We'll have a meeting of the Westfall Company and we'll vote-"
Her back stiffened. "I'll vote against it if you force the vote," she said in her clear calm voice. "So you had better give us time to think about it."
"Don't you cross me!" he threatened. "Don't you cross me! You'll be dead sorry-I'll take-"
Jed jumped up, interposed himself between Russell and Edythe. "No threats, Russell. We won't vote today. We're going to think this over."
"You damned louse," Russell turned on Jed, his fist raised.
Jed smiled mirthlessly. "Want to punch me, Russell?" he mocked. "I've licked you before. Remember?"
Russell glared, muttered, and stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. On his departure, there was a visible relaxing from tension.
"Jed, what shall we do?" Edythe asked. Her face under her light make-up was a chalky white.
"What can we do?" Larry burst out bitterly. "He's got us over a barrel."
"Why?" asked Mavis curiously. "You hold 52 per cent. Why does he scare you so much?"
Jed looked at Edythe.
"Because...." said Edythe, slowly, "I was foolish enough to marry him after you divorced him. I have a son, Greggie. Russell threatens to take him away from me.
Bess and Mavis stared at her, wide-eyed.
"I suppose I might as well sell out to him," said Larry wearily. He rubbed the back of his neck. "He's been after me and after me, trying to get hold of my stock. Those phony poker games-at least I won't have to play with that louse after this."
Mavis rose to her feet. "I suppose I might as well sell out, too. Jed, if you want my stock, you have first choice. Let me know." She smiled. "I think I'll be leaving town anyway. I may go to New York and try for a job somewhere. Something different."
"Okay, Mavis. I'll let you know soon about the stock. Thanks." Jed lifted his hand as she nodded farewell and left the room. Mavis would be all right. She had recovered from the disease of Russell's callous treatment.
"Should I type up these minutes, Jed?" Bess asked, uncertainly. "Was there a motion about the merger?"
"Type up the minutes, but stop at the merger point," Jed advised. "Just end it by saying the meeting will be continued at a later date."
She nodded and left also.
"Now will you tell me, Larry?" said Jed. "What were you doing in our warehouse?"
"Oh, that," said Larry, rather indifferently. "I was looking at the labels on the boxes to see if they matched all the new stuff in our warehouses. They do. There's a lot of stuff in our warehouses, big crates of stuff that aren't included on our inventory sheets."
"Oh, Larry!" gasped Edythe. "Was he stealing-"
"That's it," said Jed grimly. "I think we'll find he was storing stuff in your warehouses so it would look bad for you if it was accidentally found. Larry or you would be blamed for theft. Meantime, he got our stockholders to sell out to him by showing lack of profit this past year. The loss of the stock was enough to pull down our profit sheets to a very poor figure."
"He's slick," said Larry, without admiration. "He's had me on the ropes for a year. He made me play poker with him and his buddies. When I lost he wanted pieces of my stock. I kept paying cash, sold everything I had. But one or two more games and I wouldn't have had a choice but to give him stock to cover my losses."
"Because you would have given in and made a deal with him. And I kept hoping for a miracle to get him off our backs."
"A miracle. I sure could use one right now," muttered Jed.
Larry looked at him. "It's your move. Do you want to fight or quit?"
"Don't know yet. Right now I want to think."
Larry grinned boyishly. "That's my weak spot. I'm no good at thinking. Edythe, I'll do whatever you and Jed decide. Okay if I go out and get drunk?"
"Oh, Larry, do you feel so bad," she began.
"Nope. I feel great. It's out in the open. I hate mysteries," said Larry. "I want to get drunk and relax and have some fun. If you don't care, I can't help you in the thinking department anyway."
Edythe held his shoulders tightly, reached up and kissed his cheek. "You go ahead. Enjoy yourself. We'll let you know what we decide."
"Okay." He glanced at Jed. "Take care of yourself in the clinches." He went out.
"Well-what now?" asked Edythe. "Where do we start?"
"Let's go back to my place," said Jed, absently.
"And-talk?" asked Edythe, smiling.
"For a while," he said. "For a little while, we'll talk." He cupped her elbow in his hand, and they walked out together.
He felt somewhat like Larry, relieved that it was out in the open. Now he knew what he was fighting. But he didn't seem to have a good weapon left to fight with. Russell had taken them craftily out of Jed's hand, to stab him in the back.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Jed and Edythe went back to his apartment, after he had picked up some books and records from the office.
"What are you going to do with those, Jed?" Edythe asked curiously, in the car.
"I have to figure out some way to lick Russell. I can't take this lying down. I've worked for years to build up the company and he isn't going to take over without a big bloody fight from me," said Jed grimly. "But what can you do?"
"That inventory business is one angle. I'll have to see my lawyer and find out if it's criminal to switch inventory items from one company's warehouse to another, even if a person owns stock in both." He sighed and rubbed his forehead as he waited for a light to change.
"I'm sorry, Jed," said Edythe. "I can't help feeling this is all my fault. I shouldn't have become involved with you at all. Now Russell really hates you. And if I were a better businesswoman, I would have known what was going on at the warehouse."
"Don't blame yourself. I don't believe Russell knows about us, how we feel. That could be a weapon. And don't change. I love you the way you are," he told her. He put his hand briefly on her knee. "We'll work it out. Don't fret."
She moved closer to him in the car, and let the length of her leg rest against his. Heat seemed to bubble up between them.
"Maybe we could sell out, and go nway somewhere. Start over," she suggested.
"Maybe. But that's our last move. Well fight first." He grinned down at her. "I've fought Russell before, and won. He fights dirty, but he can be licked."
Up in his apartment, he spread out his books and papers on a card table. Edythe sat on the couch, her feet tucked up, shoes kicked off.
"Tell me what I can do to help," she said.
"In a few minutes." He looked through some records, pondered. The inventory business was a tricky thing. Maybe there was another way to approach this. "Here, honey." He handed Edythe a pad of paper and a pencil. "Do you remember the assets of the company well enough to write them down?"
She gave him an odd, offended look. "Of course," she said, rather coldly. "I do know that much about my work, as president of the company!"
"Sorry. You're so pretty I keep forgetting you're smart, too," he told her, cheerfully.
She stuck out a red tongue at him, then bent over her work.
Jed made a list of his company's assets, then worked out the monetary value of one per cent of the stock. Thorpe now owned 52 per cent, Jed owned 36 per cent, and Mavis still held 12 per cent. But Mavis would sell to Jed, which would give him 48 per cent.
Edythe handed him the pages she had worked out, the assets listed in neat figures. He took it, figured the value of one per cent of their stock.
"Hmm. That's interesting. One per cent of your stock is just a fraction over one per cent of ours," he announced.
She padded over to his chair on stockinged feet, and looked at the figures. "Ah ha" she said. "Westfall is worth a bit more than Crown Company!"
He kissed the tempting cheek so close to his mouth. "Maybe I'll marry you for your money," he teased.
She looked down at him soberly. "Jed, I wish you wouldn't talk about marriage. I am not going to marry you until-"
"It may be the best solution you can get. However-let's talk business. Sit down over there, so I won't be tempted to kiss you. You are a very distracting person," he told her sternly.
She sat down across from him. They discussed profits, inventory, assets tied up in stock, prospective campaigns, possible clients. He found she had a sharp and detailed knowledge of her company, and had new respect for her. She hadn't been able to fight Russell for personal reasons, but aside from that she had done a good job of carrying on her father's business.
When everything was added and balanced, Jed worked on more figures.
"It looks like with everything considered, one per cent of your company is still worth approximately one per cent of ours. So if I sold my stock to Russell, or rather traded it for yours-" He scribbled it out. "Let's see-36 minus 22 equals 14. Plus Mavis' share of 12 per cent. I'd still have a 26 per cent share in Crown and he'd be out of Westfall."
"Would he be willing to trade? He would be out of Westfall, where he still hopes to gain control over me and Larry."
"Maybe not, but it would be a thing to try." Jed took a clean page and listed the figures.
Crown
Westfall
Thorpe
52%
22%
Kingsley
36%
none
Edythe W.
none
56%
Larry W.
none
22%
Mavis T.
12%
none
100%
100%
"Maybe if I bought out Mavis and gave up all my Crown plus Mavis's stock-let's see-48 per cent-in exchange for Thorpe's 22 per cent in Westfall," he mused.
She was quick to object. "Oh, no, Jed! That's not fair. You would lose too much. I won't let you sacrifice all that."
"I don't know how else to do this, unless we take it to court. And that can be expensive as hell."
"I could trade with Thorpe," she said, then. "Look, Jed. I own 56 per cent, he owns 52 per cent. We could trade. That would be more fair. Then Larry could sell out, and leave him with Westfall."
"And your father would turn over in his grave. No, honey. I don't want to give Russell the game. Let's think it over. There has to be a way to lick him."
He stood up, yawned. Edythe was still brooding over the scattered papers, her chin on her fists, elbows on the table. The lights in the room glowed in her golden hair and made a halo about her lovely face. He was stirred with such love and adoration for her that he could scarcely speak. She was so beautiful, so fine, so intelligent and wonderful in every way. How had he suddenly had the marvelous luck to find her?
"Jed, if-" She looked up to meet his eyes, stammered, fell silent.
"If what?"
"I forgot what I was going to say," she confessed, blushing.
He laughed, came around behind her to kiss her cheek, to put his hands on her breasts. She leaned back against him.
"I love you," he said.
She moved her head negatively. "Love. Love. Talk."
"Want me to say it in bed, another way?" His fingers manipulated her breasts through the silk fabric of her blue dress.
"Not now. I'm hungry," she said frankly. "In fact, I'm starved. I haven't eaten since yesterday noon.
Russell had me too scared to eat."
He didn't have a thing' in his apartment to eat except cheese and crackers. So they decided to go out to a restaurant that was quiet and nearby. There was a fairly good combo playing, and they danced for a while. He held her close, his cheek against her hair, and almost forgot their problems.
If only he could think of something. That rat Thorpe shouldn't be allowed to get away with everything. Plenty of rats did. Jed knew several companies that had been built up over years of time by the devoted attentions of a few men, only to have the companies slide out of their hands into the greedy hands of men more clever and ruthless than their original owners. It made Jed furious to think Thorpe might do the very same thing to him.
Edythe's left hand tightened on his shoulder, and her right thumb rubbed on his thumb. Her body pressed closer to his in their dancing. Jed's attention came back to her, his exciting beautiful enemy. No, no longer his enemy, but his love. His beautiful love, his loving lovely love.
He spoke into her ear. "My dear Miss Westfall, I would like to take you back to my apartment and seduce you. Would you care to come quietly, or must I drag you back screaming?"
"I do hate public scenes," she murmured demurely, her dark eyes sparkling with mischief. "Couldn't we postpone our fight until we can be private about it?"
They left the restaurant and drove back to the apartment. On the way, Edythe teased him by sitting close to him and running her fingers from his knee up to his leg and back again.
"We could crash. You know that," he said, driving into the basement garage.
"Darling, don't you have any control? Are you a slave of your emotions?" Her hand touched him boldly, flashed away again.
"We'll see about that slave bit upstairs," he threatened. "Someone's going to be a slave of emotions, or I've lost my technique."
She laughed softly. "Threats. Big talk. I want action."
He waited till they were upstairs, in his apartment with the door locked. Then he grabbed her and wrestled her over against the wall. He held her arms so she couldn't fight, pushed at her with his body.
"J-Jed!"
"Who's a slave? Who?" He ground his body on her deliberately, and his head nuzzled at her throat, kissing the soft, warm flesh. "Who is?"
"J-Jed! Let me go! I won't be forced!" He got her dress up to her waist, managed to yank down the thin girdle. She really fought him then. He had to hold her with hard force, laughing, teasing, as desire rose up hotly in him.
"Jed, you let me go! Let go!"
"Who's a slave?"
He could feel her weakening as her own desires boiled up. He got his knees against the long, slim legs, forced his way to her. He felt the warm flesh, pressed it hard.
She sighed in her throat, and stopped fighting him. Her head was back, her slim throat arched. He was shaking, wanting her so badly it hurt. He held her against the wall. He was using her, wanting her, loving her, all tenderness in eclipse.
He finished and drew away, still holding her with his body and arms. She was limp, lax. She sighed as he drew back a little and let her breathe.
"Oh-you-devil-"
"Who's a slave?"
"I-guess-I am. Oh, Jed. Take me to bed. I need you."
He took her to bed, and undressed her swiftly. She lay back across the bed, waiting for him, one hand on her full breast, her eyes half-closed. He stripped off his own clothes, went to her. Her arms closed around him convulsively, and her legs moved. They embraced each other for several moments, full of passion.
He rolled slightly with her, holding her tight, moving sideways to increase the pleasure. They circled, swayed, her back arched, her hands gripping. Her eyes were tight shut. Perspiration filmed her flesh and it glowed in the soft light.
He watched her face as ecstasy gripped her. Her lovely body shook with fulfillment. Her face was taut, her lips open. She cried out, "Jed, darling. Jed! Jed!"
His answer shot them both to the peak. They rolled back and forth on the wide bed, arms and legs grasping, slipping, grabbing again. Behind his closed lids he saw sparks and stars and fireworks as he pressed her soft body against his.
While they were recovering, he found himself wondering about this woman. Why did she satisfy him so much, yet intensify his desire again in only a few minutes? He had tired easily of other women. Edythe was different.
He watched her as she sat up, stretched, her full breasts bobbing like ripe apples about to fall into his hands. He reached up lazily, caught one in his palm. She turned easily, sitting cross-legged, bending slightly toward him.
Her position, her long slim legs twined, inspired him. He sat up also, back against the headboard, and drew her to him. She sat with her back cuddled against his chest, and let him embrace her and touch her waist and run his hands over her thighs and legs. He unfastened her hair, that was already half unfastened from their previous bouts, and let it ripple in blonde waves to her shoulders.
Presently he lifted her, placed her carefully. She shifted to a comfortable position, leaning on him, her arms up to clasp around his neck. Her lithe legs increased the pleasure of their contacts. He contented himself with holding a ripe breast in each hand, flattening his hand to press the swollen flesh.
"Jed-darling-" she whispered, her body moving. He held her strongly, delighting in her struggles to fulfillment, and presently they were both riding high on the waves of ecstatic delight.
Sometime that night they slept. He no longer feared losing her, even in his dreams, but he kept an arm around her just in case.
In the early morning he awakened, blinking in the sunlight. Edythe was asleep beside him, her face burrowed into a pillow, her blonde hair mussed. He had awakened slowly. Figures were marching through his brain, not women's figures, not Edythe's beautiful figure, but mathematical figures.
He tried to work out something he had been dreaming. "Fifty-two plus twenty-two equals seventy-four. Divided by two equals thirty-seven. Only 37 per cent for Thorpe. Where's the rest? Jed, Edythe, Larry, Mavis. Everyone else is bought out. But that can't be right. Can it?"
He turned over, tried to go back to sleep. But the figures kept tormenting him. Something was there, something he had missed. Finally he got out of bed, put on a robe, and walked barefoot out to the living room. The papers were still there, scattered over the card table. He searched till he found the one he wanted, the page with the percentages of control in Crown and in Westfall.
He was still sleepy. He yawned, sat down, found a fresh page. In the center he wrote the word "merger." Then he copied the figures from the other page on the right and on the left. In the center he added each person's holdings divided by two. He blinked at the results in growing excitement.
Crown
Merger
Westfall
Thorpe
52%
37%
22%
Kingsley
36%
18%
none
Edythe
none
28%
56%
Larry
none
11%
22%
Mavis
12%
6%
none
100%
100%
100%
Neither Jed nor Edythe alone had more control than Thorpe. But together they could beat him. If Mavis sold her shares to Jed, and Edythe, Larry and Jed voted together, they had Thorpe easily outvoted in a merged company.
He took the paper back to the bedroom, took off his robe and got in beside Edythe. He sat up, beaming at the miraculous little piece of paper. There it was, the miracle Larry had wanted. And Thorpe had handed it to him. Separately, Edythe and Jed could not lick him. Merged, they could. They would use his own merger plan to beat the pants off Thorpe!
Edythe was sleeping soundly, but Jed could not keep the news to himself. He bent over, kissed her bare shoulder.
"Honey?" he whispered. "Honey, lovely Edythe, darling?"
"Hm?" she murmured, turning over. She opened dazed, sleep-washed eyes, blue as the sea. "Jed?"
"Morning, darling."
"Oh-morning? I'd better go."
"No. We have good news to celebrate."
"What?" She sat up, the sheet sliding to her waist. He saluted her beauty with a kiss on the nearest breast. "What news, Jed?" Her hand cupped his head tenderly holding it against her breast.
He told her. She was incredulous at first.
"You don't mean-if we merge we can beat him?"
"If you and Larry work with me on it."
"Oh, Jed. Oh, Jed! And I was so scared!"
"So was I, honey. So was I."
Tears spilled over from her eyes, but he kissed the tears away, and presently they celebrated in a mutually satisfactory way.
Later they planned the campaign, and Jed began putting it in action. He phoned Bess and asked her to call the stockholders for a meeting on Thursday afternoon.
He told Edythe, "That will give us time to warn Mavis and Larry. We must all seem resigned and unhappy that Russell is getting his way. If he suspects we want the merger, he'll call it off and investigate. We'll have to put it through fast before he starts counting."
"Even if he counted it out the way you have, I don't think he'll suspect," Edythe said thoughtfully. "He doesn't know about you and me. He is counting on Larry's and my votes to outvote you. He thinks he has us under his thumb."
"We'll let him keep on thinking so, for the time being," said Jed. "Then-pow-we'll give it to him straight and hard, right on the chin."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
On Thursday afternoon, the special meeting was held. Russell Thorpe conducted the meeting from the chair at the head of the table. He was puzzled and suspicious at their early submission.
But Jed had told him brusquely, angrily, that he had talked it over with the others and they had decided to give in.
"You've got me over a barrel. i may sell out," said Jed. "I can't afford a long court fight. We'll merge the companies, get that out of the way, then I'll decide what to do. I may go to California."
"Yeah?" said Russell warily. "You can feel free to stay on, Jed, old boy. We can use you as manager. I don't care much for the detail work of the company.
I may take to the road and spend my time looking for new clients."
His chest expanded. He was seeing himself already as the pompous president of the firm, issuing orders and letting others scurry around to carry out the menial "detail work." Jed wanted to punch him in the nose. He restrained himself. That would come later.
At the meeting, Jed forced himself to sit back and maintain a sullen silence. He wanted to convince Russell he was an unwilling participant in the negotiations. There were several members present of the law firms that handled the business of Crown and Westfall. Mavis was there, Larry and Edythe Westfall, Jed, Russell and Kittie, who was intensely bored.
Mavis looked calm and unconcerned. She had secretly agreed to sell to Jed, but Russell of course thought she would sell to him.
Edythe was pale, and seemed very nervous. Jed thought at first that she was putting on an act for Russell's benefit. Presently he realized it was not an act. She was genuinely upset and dubious about the move. She feared Russell and his tricky ways.
Larry was pale too, and weary. Why weary? Jed wondered about that, too.
Russell presented the merger issue in a detailed speech. Kittie examined her long red fingernails and yawned in the warm air of the board room.
The lawyers took over then. One of them explained the details of the merger plan and the steps that would have to be taken.
Jed listened alertly to this presentation. They confirmed what he and Edythe had already figured-that the stocks were approximately equal in value.
Then came the vote. It was unanimously for the merger. The lawyers beamed. They liked the cordial good will of the two firms, they said.
Jed glared at Russell. Russell looked suspiciously at Edythe and Larry.
They agreed on the steps to be taken, and that the merger should be finalized within the next few weeks.
"It is a little unusual to move so rapidly in an operation of this sort," said one of the lawyers. "However, since all are agreed-"
The meeting broke up. Jed, Mavis, Edythe and Larry went to Jed's apartment to talk more privately. He got out some champagne he had bought for the occasion. But his guests were gloomy.
"Drink up," Jed urged. "You were all great actors this afternoon. The merger is going along fine. Russell doesn't suspect a thing."
Mavis sipped pensively at the chilled glass. "I can't help worrying. Russell is so damned smart. What if he comes up with some legal maneuver and takes over everything?"
Edythe shuddered, turning chalky white.
"He won't. I've checked and double-checked," Jed reassured her. "And besides that, Edythe and I are going to see a lawyer ourselves about Greg. Yes, we are Edythe! I'm sure Russell can't take Greg. A man who has been married three times, who is now married to a .girl less than half his age? The courts are not going to take him away from a devoted mother to award Russell the custody of a child. But I'll let a lawyer tell you that. You should have seen one long ago instead of letting Russell blackmail you and Larry."
"Oh, Jed, I'm afraid. If I stir up trouble-" said Edythe. "If he takes Greg away from me-"
She was really scared, and that wasn't good, Jed decided. He forced her to go to a lawyer with him the next day, and they talked over the whole matter. The lawyer was reassuring, but Edythe was still not convinced.
"What if Miss Westfall and I got married, and I adopted the child legally?" Jed asked brusquely.
Edythe interposed. "Jed, we are not going to get married!"
"What if?" Jed repeated.
The lawyer wiped away a smile. "I think that would end the matter. Mr. Thorpe would then have no legal basis at all for claiming the child. Not unless you should become involved in criminal activities or-Well, we need not go into those aspects, I'm sure."
Jed told the lawyer to keep it all quiet and not do anything until the merger was completed. He promised.
After they left the office, Edythe stormed at Jed, "I told you I would not consider marriage! I'm not ready to get married again. If I ever marry, I want to think it over first, for a long, long time."
"Honey," he said calmly. "If you put ne off, if you make me postpone my plans, I'll treat you worse than I ever have. I'll take you up to my place, lock you in, make you stay there until you give in. I'm going to marry you, and you're not going to stop me."
"I have a mind of my own! I won't be forced into things!"
"But honey, you enjoy things so much after you've been forced into them." His mischievous eyes gazed into hers. Her lashes dropped, and her cheeks flushed a deep red. He had one weapon over her that she could not resist.
During the end of June and the first part of July, the lawyers drew up papers, held conferences, obtained auditor's statements on finances, and followed all the procedures they had outlined. Mavis Thorpe and Jed secretly completed a deal whereby he bought out all her stock in Crown Company. She said she would stay on in town until after the merger, so that Russell would not suspect anything.
Jed almost went wild, waiting nervously for all the papers to be signed, the negotiations completed. If Russell figured out the answers, and made counter-moves, he would be sunk.
Edythe would not come up to Jed's apartment during those weeks. She did not want Russell to guess anything about their relationship. She did tell Jed that Russell was after Larry night and day to buy his stock from the boy. That was why Larry was so pale and tired. He was involved in all-night drinking sessions with Russell, trying to jolly him along, to keep him from learning the true situation.
Finally toward the end of July the papers were ready for final signature, the lawyers ready for a final formal meeting to merge the two companies.
"We certainly did that fast," one of them said proudly.
Jed felt like saying it was the slowest, most agonizing operation in history. He refrained.
It was a hot July afternoon when they all gathered in the board room at the Crown Company. The air conditioners were on. Edythe was shivering as she sat down at the table. Jed seated himself next to her, and touched her hand. It was ice-cold.
He wanted to reassure her, but he was feeling rather shaky himself. What if something went wrong? What if Russell pulled a switch and they all fell neatly into a trap, like a scene from one of the silent movies? All kinds of horrible possibilities flashed through Jed's mind as the meeting began.
It took a couple of hours-the reading of papers, the announcement that the merger had been filed in court, the long legal proceedings that made it official. The merger was finally concluded. The lawyers congratulated all parties of the new Golden Crown Trading Stamps Company, and then the Westfall Golden Stamp Company and the Crown Trading Stamps Company went out of business permanently.
Jed's shoulders felt stiff as he stood up to shake hands with the lawyers. He had been under tension for weeks. Now it was over.
The lawyers filed out.
Mavis Thorpe arose nervously. "I might as well leave, also," she said, picking up her gloves.
"Wait, Mavis," said Russell, leaning back in the chair at the head of the table. "Why don't you sell out to me now? We might as well clear up all the little details." He was smiling blandly, confidently.
Mavis looked at Jed questioningly.
"I believe I have a couple of announcements to make first," said Jed. He relaxed, grinned, and leaned against the back of a chair to observe Russell's suspicious face.
"You want to sell out, too?" asked Russell. "I may not be able to pay you much, but I could offer about half-price."
"Nope," said Jed. Larry was staring at the table. Edythe's hands were clasped tightly together. Mavis was standing beside her chair, her breath coming quickly. "In the first place, Mavis Thorpe has sold all her shares to me."
"What? You double-dealing witch! I ought to beat you up." Russell's face turned crimson as he glared threateningly at Mavis.
Larry said, gently, but effectively, "Shut up, Russell. Your bullying days are over." All of a sudden, the boy sounded like a man.
Russell glared at Larry incredulously. He could not have been more surprised if Kittie had turned on him and had bitten him.
"And in the second place, congratulations are in order. Edythe Westfall has consented to marry me. We plan to be married in August."
"What?" Russell bellowed. His face was so red, his eyes so bulging that Jed feared a stroke. "You don't know her-Edythe, damn you! I told you what I'd do if you don't do what I tell you!"
"You probably mean taking Greg away from her." Jed walked over to Edythe and put his hands firmly on her trembling shoulders. "We have engaged a lawyer. I shall adopt Greg as soon as Edythe and I are married. No court would award a child to a man like you, three times married, now married to a young woman less than half your age. So kindly don't bother my fiancee with your threats any longer. Or you'll have to deal with me."
Russell's face turned from crimson to purple He stuttered with rage. "I'll see-we-we'll see about-You witch! You double-damned w-witch!"
"Shut up, or I'll punch you!" cried Larry, jumping up.
"That won't be necessary, Larry," said Jed, coldly furious. "I think he will see reason. Edythe, Larry and I hold 63 per cent of the stock in Golden Crown Company. If Russell wants to sell out at a decent price to us, he had better be-decent." He gazed mockingly at the crumpled figure of the stocky man who had come so close to mastering them all. Russell was a pricked balloon. All his dreams had escaped like gas and vanished in the air.
"I didn't know ... when did you get to know Edythe?" Russell finally asked.
"Oh, that's a long story. And no affair of yours," said Jed. "But you're finished here, Russell. I won't stay in business with you. I'll buy you out now for a fair price. Every week's delay will bring the price down. What do you say-are you going to sell out to me?"
Russell heaved himself out of the chair. He was so dazed, so humiliated, he scarcely seemed to know what he was doing. "I'll let you know," he mumbled. "Got to see ... my lawyer...."
He went out. Jed drew a deep sigh and let go of Edythe's shoulders. Mavis was crumpling her gloves.
"It's over," said Mavis. "It's over. He's finished now."
"Unless he has more tricks up his sleeve," said Edythe anxiously. She turned to Jed. "Are you sure he can't take Greg-"
"I'm sure. I told you."
"And the company," said Larry. "Gosh. I wish Dad could have been here today. He would have been proud."
Edythe smiled at Larry. "Yes, the company is saved from him, anyway. Thank goodness."
"Congratulations to you both," said Mavis sincerely. "On the wedding, I mean. I think that's wonderful. May you both be very happy."
"Thank you," said Jed quickly, before Edythe could deny anything. "And thanks for all you've done. Selling me the stock, and everything."
Their eyes met, and a swift message passed between Mavis and Jed. He knew what she was thinking, that she was grateful to him for restoring her confidence and licking the man who had tried to destroy her.
"I'll be leaving town," Mavis said. "So I won't be here for the wedding. Best wishes, love to you both, and success with the company. Keep it in the family."
"We'll do that," said Jed.
Larry held the door for Mavis as she left. "Do you want me for anything else?" he asked, adding rather wistfully, "I'd like to get some sleep, without Russell calling me and asking me to do the town with him."
"Run along. Take a vacation," said Jed, generously. "Go somewhere for a few weeks and grab some rest. Then you can take over while Edythe and I are honeymooning."
"Oh-say-great. When is the wedding?" Jed put his hand firmly over Edythe's opening mouth. "August twentieth. Be back for it."
"Okay. Fine." Larry grinned and walked out.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
As soon as Larry had closed the door, Jed took his hand off Edythe's mouth.
"Jed. how could you? We are not engaged! We are not going to be married in August! And where did you get that date! August twentieth! I'm not going to marry you on August twentieth or thirtieth or fortieth or-"
"Want to bet?" said Jed. "It sounds like a nice date, easy to remember. I pulled it out of the air. Let's go home and talk about it."
"I am not going to talk about it," she stormed. "You take too much for granted! I don't like being bossed! And I plan to buy some of Russell's stock! You can't have it all! If you think you can get a majority of the stock and run everything your own way, you're mistaken! I may not know everything about the trading stamp business, but I'm learning!"
So was Jed learning. This was no pliant, gentle sweetheart, willing to let her man decide everything for her. Edythe was an adult, well-schooled in a bitter post-graduate school of experience. Her father had tried to dominate her and bend her to his will. An Italian lover had used her and deceived her. Russell Thorpe had charmed her, then ripped off his mask to disclose a frightening, ruthless bully.
Edythe was willing to fight it out then and there. Jed had other plans.
"I would prefer not to quarrel where we can be overheard," he said stiffly. "Shall we go somewhere-your apartment, perhaps? We have a lot to discuss."
She paused in her tirade, the flush dying in her cheeks. "Oh ... No, Greggie would be upset. I suppose it would be better...." she hesitated.
"To go to my place? Okay," he agreed, concealing his delight. "I stocked up on food, so we won't starve-in case you stay for dinner," he hastened to add.
"I don't plan to stay," she said sternly. "We must discuss several business matters, then I'm going to leave. We can't go on and on with an affair-"
"Do you want the whole office to hear you?" he interrupted. "Architects don't build thick walls much any more, you know."
"Oh, very well! Let's go." She stalked out ahead of him. She insisted on driving her own car over to his apartment, so she would be able to leave whenever she was ready.
Evidently the weeks that they had been apart had hardened her resolution to go her own way. But remembering the hidden passions in Edythe, Jed did not anticipate a great deal of trouble in persuading her to stay all night. The problem would come in persuading her to marry him.
Going up the elevator from the garage to his apartment, he studied the cool profile of the woman he loved. To look at Edythe one would not guess she was so ardent a lover as he had discovered. And she could be as stubborn as she was fiery. He would have his hands full managing her.
In the apartment, Edythe sat down to talk. Jed went to the kitchen.
"No wine for me!" she called after him. "And I won't stay long!"
He grinned to himself wickedly, and got out the ice bucket, the bottles of champagne and two glasses. When he brought them back to the living room, Edythe frowned.
"I said I don't want anything!"
"I don't know about you, but I feel like celebrating," said Jed. He popped the cork. "I've been worried for months about what Russell Thorpe was going to do to me. Now that we've licked him, I'm celebrating."
He poured a glass slowly. The cool champagne bubbled, frosting the glass. He saw her watching, fascinated, wanting some, yet dreading the effects that wine had on her inhibitions.
"Just a sip?" he suggested, holding out the glass.
She hesitated, then accepted it. "Well-all right. One glass, no more!"
"Don't worry. I could drink the whole bottle." He began to laugh. "When I think of the look on Russell's face as he finally realized we had fooled him! All his fine schemes bursting like balloons! He turned purple, completely purple."
"I thought he would have a stroke," Edythe shuddered. "Oh, I'm glad that's over. Right up to the last minute,-I was afraid he'd pull something horrible."
Jed raised his glass. "To our victory!" he toasted themselves.
She smiled. "To our victory." She sipped, added meditatively, "It was really your victory, Jed. Russell had Larry and me hypnotized like a bunny rabbit before a snake."
"What would you have done if we had merged, with Russell in full control?" He added more champagne to her glass, then filled his, and sat down on the couch beside her.
"I suppose I would have stuck around for a while, then sold out at the best price I could get. And Russell would have had the works, at a very cheap cost to himself."
"I'll talk to the company lawyers again tomorrow and make sure Russell doesn't issue any orders before they find out Russell no longer is in control."
"Can he do anything more, Jed?" She gulped the rest of the drink. He filled the glass, and she did not protest. "It still scares me, the way he came so close to taking everything."
"From now on, I'll be on my guard. And I'll follow the advice Mavis gave us-we'll keep things in the family. No more little stockholders from outside. They don't care enough and know enough about the business.
Another Russell Thorpe could fool them."
"That reminds me. Our warehouses have barrels and boxes of your merchandise." Edythe made a final attempt to be business-like, though she was lolling back on the couch and the skirt of her sheath dress was riding up on her sleek legs.
"Dan Foust can go over and figure things out. I'll speak to him tomorrow." He was feeling a little woozy himself, from the hot July day, the excitement, the cool champagne, and Edythe within his reach for the first time in weeks. He refilled the glasses.
"You're ... getting me ... drunk," she accused, her dark blue eyes trying to focus on him.
"We deserve to celebrate," said Jed. "After all those weeks of fighting and waiting. Waiting was the worst. I kept expecting the roof to fall in on me. Weren't you worried while you waited?"
He put his arm around her with seeming casualness. She stiffened, then relaxed and put her blonde head on his shoulder.
"Horribly worried. I hate waiting. Sitting around, wondering what he was up to, if he would discover ... about us ... and figure out ... we were ... together." She yawned the last words, and nestled against his side.
He moved his hand coaxingly up and down her side, pausing at the leg, pausing at the soft breast. "When we were together," he murmured, "it never seemed so bad. But when we were apart, the hours crawled, the weeks were years." He kissed the top of her head.
"Oh, Jed. Don't try ... to boss me," she said, "I hate ... being pushed around...."
"I don't want to push you around, honey," he said, his hand stroking slowly over her leg. "I just want us to be happy ... together ... always together...."
"Afraid of marriage. Men change," she said, cuddling closer. Her skirt rode up farther above her knees.
He set down his glass and devoted himself to arousing her sensual desires. His left hand slid over her smooth knees, back and forth, against the sleek flesh. His right hand went to her breast and cupped it, as his right arm held her tightly. Her breathing was faster. His left hand moved daringly.
"Don't-"
"You want me, too," he said. "You want me. All your lovely, long length of body wants me. All your sleek, soft, silky body wants me." His hand sought, coaxed, commanded.
Presently he was able to press her back on the couch. His hands slid up the hem of her sheath dress to her waist, then eagerly pulled down the sheer panties. She was bare to the waist, lying lax and sleepy-eyed on the couch cushions.
He stood up, pulled off his trousers. Then he lay down beside her, his body reaching greedily for hers. She shifted to lie flat against him. He fitted himself smoothly to her and moved hungrily.
She was warm and ready, loosened by the champagne and her strong desires. All her being seemed to expand to embrace him.
"Oh-Jed-oh-Jed-Jed-" Her soft refrain was beginning. He looked at her face, smiled with satisfaction at the tightly closed eyes, the open red lips. Her red tongue licked her lips. Her head turned sharply to one side, then the other, as he went on.
He twisted his hips, swung them slowly, tantalizingly. A cry burst from her. She was eager, as eager as he was.
He held her and worked fast, brought them both to the peak of pleasure. Then, suddenly, the storm broke over the mountain. Lightning ripped through them, they shuddered in the ecstasy of the heat waves thrilling their bodies, and then the soft warm rain flooded them.
He lay beside her, holding her, thinking how he had won again. Edythe simply could not resist his direct appeal to her flesh. That they were in the same work, loved the same music, danced perfectly together, and wanted children-those were extra added attractions right now, as far as Jed was concerned. This came first, the way they reacted to each other's flesh, the way ecstasy was built between them in a few minutes.
Edythe's voice came to him as a shock. "Jed, you're a devil," she said angrily. She tried to get up. He held her, his arms tightening around her in the limited space of his couch.
"Why? Didn't you like it?" he reproached. "I thought it was perfect."
"Let me get up! Jed, you just use me! You boss me around as much-as much as any man ever did! Just because you're charming and subtle doesn't hide the fact. You-you manipulate me!"
"Is this what you mean by manipulation?" Jed teased, his hand on her body. She tried to push his hand away, tried to wiggle away, but failed.
"No-I mean-Jed, stop that! I mean you try to get your own way-Jed! I won't let you! You want to be president of the company and you'll do anything to-Jed!"
He closed her mouth with kisses. Later on tonight, after she was tamed and tired, he would explain his position and what he wanted. And much later, when they were married, she would gradually find out that he intended to run the company with Larry's help. He had another position in mind for Edythe, as wife and mother. He fully intended for that to be a full-time job for her.
But he had his hands full. And he would always have his hands full with her, he realized, as he tried to coax her to make love. It took more champagne and more kisses and more manipulations before she went with him.
However, it was worth it, he decided, stripping off his clothes, eyeing Edythe's willing body stretched before him on the bed. The future looked exciting, promising.
Life with Edythe would not be dull. She would battle him sometimes. But as long as they could meet each other this way and make up all their differences, he would be satisfied.
