C.J.'s Fate C.J.'s Fate C.J.'s Fate Read online

  “Make your calls,” she countered unfeelingly. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

  Very softly, he murmured, “‘In my life there was a picture, she that clasped my neck had flown; I was left within the shadow sitting on the wreck alone.’” When she looked puzzled, he added casually, “Tennyson.”

  Staring at the solemn Indian face she loved so much and knew so well, C.J. felt a lump rise in her throat. She wanted to fling herself into his arms. To hell with her stupid, elusive fears. What other woman would hesitate to accept the wonders Fate offered? Not many…unless they were totally insane.

  Like she was.

  But C.J. knew rationally that she had to be sure. She had to be able to give all of herself, the way Fate did.

  “See you later,” she managed at last. But his voice stopped her at the door.

  “There’s another quotation.”

  She stopped and turned slowly to face him. “What is it?”

  “Shakespeare. ‘That I should love a bright, particular star and think to wed it.’ Marry me, pixie.”

  It was quiet, almost a plea, and C.J. couldn’t summon a light response. He was sitting up in bed now, looking absurdly endearing with his mussed hair and morning stubble. The covers had fallen to disclose his bare chest, and one uncovered—and muscular—thigh hinted at the bare rest of him. And her throat ached with love for him. Her voice would emerge only in a whisper.

  “I’d like to marry you,” she said honestly, but held up a hand when he would have slid from the bed. “I want to marry you. But I have to straighten out a few things in my own mind. Can we—can we talk about it when I get back?”

  He nodded, saying huskily, “I’ll even settle for a definite possibility of a firm maybe.”

  She laughed shakily. “Oh, you have that already.”

  His purple eyes were glowing. “It’s a start.” Then he added roughly, “Get out of here before you get attacked.”

  She turned back to the door, unlocked and opened it, then glanced back over her shoulder one last time. “I’d miss that if you stopped. Attacking me, I mean.”

  “No fear of that, love. When the world ends, I might stop. Then again…I doubt it.”

  The image of him sitting there in her bed remained with C.J. all the way down the hall to the elevator. And even when she pushed it from her mind, similar images took its place. A solemn face with dark eyes narrowed à la Valentino. A naked troubadour strumming a guitar and singing love songs. A gentle lover; a ravishing Indian brave; a humorous companion.

  It was Thursday; tomorrow afternoon, she was due to board a plane to Boston. Her home was there, and her job, and her studies. And her friends were there.

  And Fate’s life and work were in Denver. What, she wondered wryly, were they supposed to do—pick a halfway point at which to live? Peoria, for instance. Halfway between Denver and Boston. They could both commute on weekends.

  Great…just great. A weekend marriage. Oh, she could afford to fly back and forth every day, but what kind of marriage would they have? And her accountant would certainly do more than wince at the yearly bill.

  Would Fate leave Denver for Boston? C.J. wasn’t sure. He was a partner in a law firm, and heaven knew partnerships didn’t grow on trees. However, her shrewd business sense told her realistically that it would be a hell of a lot easier to move one lawyer to Boston than to uproot an entire corporation and head westward.

  It was a major problem, but it touched C.J.’s mind only lightly and briefly. She had complete faith in their ability to work out a concrete, soluble problem such as that.

  It was the little elusive ones that bothered her.

  “C.J.?”

  Stepping out of the elevator in the lobby, C.J. automatically shrugged into her jacket and looked toward the entrance to the dining room in surprise. Jan was coming toward her.

  “Hi, stranger,” her friend sang out wryly as she neared.

  “Morning.” C.J. shoved her hands into her pockets and stopped where she was. “You’re up early.”

  “And you’re up—amazing. We were beginning to think that you two had gone into permanent hibernation. Where’s your Fate, by the way? Or is that an indelicate question?”

  “He’s upstairs,” C.J. answered noncommittally.

  “Mmmm. Is he heading back to Boston with us, or are you planning on Denver?” Jan’s question was casual, but her blue eyes were intent on C.J.’s face.

  C.J. shrugged. “We…haven’t made any firm plans.”

  “Leaving it a little late, aren’t you? I know you don’t have to be back at work until the middle of next week, but—”

  Shaking her head, C.J. cut her off. “There’s a board meeting at the company Monday afternoon; I have to be there.”

  “You missed the last board meeting,” Jan pointed out.

  “I can’t miss this one. The board’s talking merger, and I won’t have all the facts until I talk to them. Steve’ll probably be there to represent Siri’s interests since the doctor doesn’t want her to travel during the last month of her pregnancy. He’ll side with me, I know, since it’s what Siri wants. If I decide against the merger, we’ll have to pool our family stock to veto it.”

  “It’s a pity Fate isn’t a corporate lawyer,” Jan said ruefully. “He could advise you. Does he know about the company, by the way?”

  C.J. shook her head, smiling slightly.

  “Well, isn’t it about time you told him? I mean, I don’t know of many men who’d balk at marrying a woman who virtually owns one of the largest companies on the East Coast, but it’s not exactly something you want to whisper into his ear on the way to the bridal suite!”

  “True.” C.J. sighed softly. “And heaven only knows how he’ll react. Talk about a dark horse! He’s never the same twice out of the gate. I think he’s part leprechaun and part chameleon.” She reflected for a moment, then added, “And part troubadour.”

  “Troubadour?” Jan asked quizzically.

  “Private joke.” C.J. moved restlessly. “I’m going for a walk, Jan. I’ll see you later.” She turned and headed for the door, but Jan’s voice halted her only a few steps away.

  “C.J.? There’s no problem is there? Between you and Fate? You look a little upset.”

  Turning back, C.J. hesitated for a moment. The lobby was empty; even the desk was deserted. And weren’t friends supposed to help when one was unsure? “Jan…were you afraid—before you married Brian?”

  Apparently realizing that the question was a very serious one, Jan answered quietly. “Of course I was afraid; I was marrying a policeman. Not the safest job in the world.”

  “But that’s understandable—that’s a concrete fear. I mean, were you ever afraid without knowing the reason for it?”

  Jan was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I was giving up a part of myself to someone else, and that was scary. I didn’t know what that meant for a long time, but when I finally understood, it wasn’t scary anymore.”

  “And what does it mean?” C.J. was unaware of just how forlorn she sounded, how young and uncertain.

  Her friend smiled. “It means that you get back more than you give—much more. It means that there’s always someone beside you, propping you up when necessary. You’re never alone, even when you’re by yourself. There are words you never have to say, thoughts you never have to voice aloud. It means that someone sees you in a very special way, a way no one else sees you.” Jan’s smile widened. “It’s nothing to be afraid of, C.J.”

  C.J. let her friend’s words sink in for a moment, then nodded as if to herself and made her way out the door of the lodge. Once outside, she zipped her jacket, casting an absent glance up at the heavy gray sky. She started walking, paying no particular attention to where her steps led her.

  Was she afraid of giving up a part of herself to Fate? C.J. thought about that for a while, realizing almost immediately that it wasn’t that she was afraid of. As wonderfully open as Fate was, she wasn’t the least bit afraid that she w
ould give only to remain empty.

  Tangled thoughts and questions chased one another through her mind. She was afraid. What was she afraid of? She wasn’t afraid of love. Marriage didn’t frighten her, since the examples before her all her life had been happy and content ones. She trusted Fate, completely certain that he would never deliberately hurt her. She wasn’t afraid of losing her independence, or becoming a possession.

  Apparently, there were a lot of things she didn’t fear. Which was terrific. But why, then, couldn’t she tell Fate that she loved him and would willingly—gladly—marry him?

  “Because you’re an idiot, my girl,” she said to herself, watching as another early-morning riser crossed her path shouldering a pair of skis. She flipped a mental coin, then turned in the direction of the ski shop. Exercise—that’s what she needed. Exercise and fresh air. To clear the cobwebs away.

  Moments later, she left the ski shop, poles and skis in hand. She had only half heard the talk inside about a prediction of uncertain weather due to hit today. Continuing to brood, she took the lift to the highest slopes, flipped another mental coin, and finally set off in a direction she hadn’t previously explored.

  C.J. paid little attention to where she was going, other than to avoid obstacles such as trees that were directly in her path. She wasn’t worried about becoming lost; an excellent sense of direction had always stood her in good stead. Nor was she aware of the passing time. It was only when the rumbling of her empty stomach became too uncomfortable to ignore that she stopped long enough to look at her watch. And surprise kept her still.

  Four hours! Well, no wonder she was both tired and hungry! She glanced back in the direction she’d come from, and felt suddenly very alone in the stark emptiness of the white, still landscape. Idiot! You’re miles from the lodge, and didn’t even bring a candy bar! And she had told Fate that she’d be back in an hour….

  She sighed and looked around absently, her gaze picking up what looked like a tiny cabin tucked away in the woods about a hundred yards away from her. It looked deserted. Incurably curious, C.J. headed in that direction.

  Five more minutes wouldn’t matter, she reasoned. Besides—she wanted to sit down for a little while.

  The cabin was indeed small, though apparently well-built, and most certainly deserted. The snow around it was pristine, no footprints—or hoof-prints, or paw-prints—marring its beauty. And when C.J. tried the door hesitantly, she found it unlocked. Offering mental apologies to whoever owned it, she opened the door and stepped inside after removing her skis.

  Two unshuttered windows on either side of the door allowed the single large room to be flooded with light. A wooden table with two chairs occupied the center of the room. One wall boasted a stone fireplace, three generous-sized logs stacked neatly on the grate. A second wall was lined with a narrow counter with cabinets overhead. What appeared to be a portable kerosene stove sat on the counter.

  And the third wall, surprisingly, was mostly taken up with a wide, somewhat tarnished, brass bed. From the sway in the bright quilt covering it, C.J. deduced that the springs sagged decidedly in the middle. In spite of that, she hastily squashed an impulse to lie down and take a nap.

  A slightly dusty appearance convinced her that if someone lived here, they’d been absent for a while. Yet the place seemed to have been left conveniently ready for stray, slightly weary travelers. A kerosene lamp and a box of matches sat on the table, firewood was stacked in one corner, and there were handy pegs on the wall by the door on which to hang one’s coat.

  C.J. glanced at her watch and bit her lip, undecided. But the lure of that fireplace was finally too strong to resist. She could build a fire and rest for an hour or so, she thought. It would be an easy matter to put out the fire—with snow, or something. Then she’d be rested and ready for the trip back to the lodge.

  Feeling suddenly very, very tired, C.J. brought her skis inside and closed the door, going immediately to the fireplace. Within moments, she had a cheery fire blazing, and the cabin was beginning to warm up. Leaving her jacket on for the time being, she explored the cabinets, surprised by the amount of foodstuffs stored there.

  What was this place, she wondered, a gift from the patron saint of tired skiers? There were first-aid supplies, a supply of kerosene for the lamp and stove, every possible kind of canned goods—and two dusty bottles of wine. C.J. checked the label on one, and raised a silent, appreciative eyebrow. Well! The patron saint was a generous soul; this stuff was older than she was.

  Putting the bottle back, she continued her exploration. Pots, pans, other cooking utensils, and—two of each—plates, cups, forks, spoons, knives, and wine glasses. C.J. blew the dust off one of the goblets and shook her head with a smile.

  From the looks of it, she’d stumbled on a lovers’ rendezvous. Fancifully, her romantic mind wove a story of star-crossed love and secret meetings. She peopled the story with villainous parents and a noble pair of lovers, mentally pitting them against one another and casting every possible obstacle in the path of true love.

  Giggling to herself, she located a jar of instant coffee—a bit stale—and made several trips outside the front door before melting enough snow over the kerosene stove to make coffee. When it was ready, she poured some in one of the cups and sat down at the table, lifting her cup in a toast.

  “Here’s to you, kids,” she murmured to the silent room and her noble couple. “And I certainly hope you haven’t planned an assignation for today—or there’s apt to be a bit of a crowd!”

  Her amusement faded as she sipped her coffee and stared into the crackling fire. Absently, she removed her jacket and draped it over the other chair, her mind turning from the mythical troubles of her noble couple to the very real troubles of herself.

  She was being, she decided, an utter fool. There was no earthly reason why she shouldn’t marry Fate and live happily ever after. He was everything she’d ever looked for in a man.

  Looked for?

  C.J. smiled wryly as she remembered all the years of matchmaking. Oh, yes…she’d been looking even then. Even through the veil of disinterest, the layer of abstraction. Searching for her perfect mate. And didn’t all women do that, even if only subconsciously? In spite of independent proclamations, and assertions of self-sufficiency, and don’t-give-a-damn aloneness…

  She had watched her friends go through it. How complaisant they had been at eighteen, how confident and certain of what they meant to do with their lives! And how raw. None—with the possible exception of Ann—had thought of love or marriage or children. They were going to shake the world, they were. Rock it back on its heels and make it take notice.

  Instead…Five weddings floated lazily through C.J.’s mind. Five women who had grown up and fallen in love. Five men who seemed quite happy to have married, not world-shakers, but women.

  So the world had not been shaken—did that matter? No. It mattered only that five women had found their ideals, and were happy. They had fought their way through the thoughts and ideas of a fierce generation, and emerged triumphant.

  And C.J.?

  Not vehement like Jan and Kathy, merry like Tami, regal like Susan, or serene like Ann. C.J. had watched and listened, moving from one challenge to another, indifferent outwardly and restless inside. Shrewd in business, but not intrigued by it. Fascinated by history because there was so much of it, so much to learn.

  And searching…always searching. History had fed her curious soul. Business had briefly and occasionally stirred her lively mind. One sport after another had engaged her interest for a time before passing unheeded and unregretted from her consciousness.

  Feeling suddenly excited, C.J. realized that she was getting very close to her fear. Think! Tie it all together. She got up to put another log on the fire and refill her coffee cup, then returned to her chair.

  All right. Use the examples she knew—the magic circle.

  Jan. What had she needed most in the man she would marry? She needed someone who would take c
are of her. “Little Mother” Jan, who had watched over them all for years. And Brian filled that need; he was protective, calm, dependable.

  Kathy. Fierce, sarcastic Kathy. She had needed a calming influence in her life, a sensibility to check her impetuosity, a cheerfulness to temper her sarcasm, a gentleness to soften her sharpness. And she had found each quality in Patrick.

  Tami. Laughing, merry Tami, who could find something funny in everything. Always the clown, the court jester. She had needed a man who would see the more serious, gentle side of her nature. A man who would not be satisfied only with the quips, the one-liners, the jokes. And John had fallen in love with the woman beneath the laughter.

  Susan. Beautiful, regal Susan. With her queenly air and striking, impossible beauty. She had needed to be seen beneath the mask of classical beauty. Hers had been, perhaps, the most difficult task. For a man to see beneath her mask, she had been forced to open herself up, and that had not come easily to cool, restrained Susan. But Chris had been patient, and his reward had been a woman who knew that she was loved for her inner beauty.

  Ann. Gentle, loving Ann. She had withdrawn into frozen despair after the tragic loss of her first love. What Ann had needed, more than anything else, had been security. She had been afraid to love again, terrified of giving her heart only to lose it. But Keith had become her last and strongest love. He had given her the roots she had craved, loving her with a deep and enduring love. He was her shelter, her prop, her anchor in the wind. And she adored him.

  And C.J.?

  Ruthlessly, C.J. placed herself in the objective light under which she had examined her friends.

  C.J. Something of an introvert. Accustomed to observing rather than participating. Inwardly restless, inwardly hungry. Always looking, searching. Needing a challenge, something to spark her mind and catch her attention. Easily bored.

  And she needed…

  Easily bored. Challenge.

  Fate. Unconventional, paradoxical. Fate, who was ten men rolled into one. Intelligent, quick-witted, perceptive. He could delight her with verbal fencing, move her with tender wooing, excite her with lusty passion. He could have her in stitches with his pillow talk one moment, and then reach down deep inside her and touch places she didn’t know existed. Not afraid or ashamed to be everything that a man could be: tender, humorous, passionate, silly, lusty, gentle, comical, cheerful, serious, absurd and endearing…