When he could talk again he perused her with an insufferable grin on his face. 'The last time I made you that mad was when we were about thirteen years old and I asked you if you'd started your period yet and you slapped my face and told me to grow up, then went off bawling and said you hated me and would hate me to my dying day. And it wasn't a year later I was kissing you crazy, and you loved every minute of it.'
Rachel stood outraged, watching him turn and slog toward the steps, blissfully unconcerned about his expensive clothes.
'You're a despicable, crude… yokel!'
she shouted at his back, ramming her hands onto her hips, shaking with anger.
He only tipped his head back and laughed again while mounting the steps, then turned and pointed at her cheeks. 'Your mascara's running, Rachel.'
Angrier than ever, she shouted, 'You're exactly what they call you, you hellion! And I can't for the life of me see what all those stupid women find to chase after!'
He took one warning step back into the pool, grinning wickedly. 'You want me to show you, Rachel?'
'You just stay away from me, you egomaniac!'
He gave her an assessing glance and shrugged uninterestedly. 'No, I guess I won't. But maybe if you'd put a little meat on those bones I might give it some thought.'
'And maybe if you took a little meat off yours, I'd let you!' she retaliated.
His expression soured. He crossed the patio, then leaned sideways from the waist with practiced nonchalance, plucked up his billfold, extracted some bills and dropped them on the patio table. 'Twenty-five
dollars, you say? Here, have your hair 219 done again. It was worth every cent.'
Then Tommy Lee calmly picked up his shoes and disappeared, leaving a sputtering Rachel behind to pound the surface of the water and promise herself she'd never speak to him again.
Rachel was so incensed that tears of frustration stung her eyes. She stormed into the house mopping her ruined hair and vehemently denying all the tender thoughts she'd had in Dallas.
Of all the nerve! Were there actually women who put up with treatment like that and came back for more? And he hadn't been content to tip her into the pool, he'd implied that she was skinny… skinny! She stepped before a mirror, scrutinized her reflection… and burst into tears. Lord, she was so mixed up about him. He had been trying to apologize, and the least she could have done was accept his apology gracefully. She thought about his anger, the names he had flung at her. All right, so she was a… a smug, supercilious socialite. But she couldn't help it. She'd been raised to believe that one's public image was important. Did he think she should blithely open her door to him one day, then ring up his
hot-pink earrings the next?
On Monday a package arrived for her at Panache. She opened it to find an electric blow dryer and a note: 'Learn to fix your hair yourself so you can be prepared for the unexpected.'
She raged inwardly and swore she'd have him put under lock and key if he kept pestering her this way. Then she wrapped the hair dryer and mailed it back to him with a note saying, 'You'll need this to dry your suits when you stumble into the next woman's pool.'
The following week Rachel got home one day to find an enormous bouquet of white roses and leather-leaf fern on the dining room table. The card read, 'I'm sorry, Rachel. I found out you were in Dallas. And you're not too skinny. Please have dinner with me Friday night at my house. We'll be well chaperoned this time.'
So what was he doing now, going around town asking people questions about her comings and goings?
Callie Mae watched Rachel's face closely as she read the message. She noted the scowl, then the dismissing look Rachel gave the flowers before tossing the card down and never looking
at it again. 221
'Mighty pretty flowers,' Callie Mae remarked. 'Expensive, too.' But her curiosity was not to be satisfied. Neither Rachel nor the card gave any clue as to who they were from.
Tommy Lee waited several days for her to answer his invitation but soon realized she wasn't going to.
He tried to run the disappointment out of his system. By now he could jog to the end of the driveway and back with no trouble at all, and as the days passed he worked himself up to four miles a day. He ran to the beat of her name-Rachel, Rachel, Rachel. Every day he swam, too, and worked with the weights and did sit-ups. His muscles tautened, his stomach began to flatten, and even his chin grew firmer. The exercise, coupled with Georgine's parsimonious cooking, soon gave his skin a healthy elasticity that seemed to dissolve the webs from about his eyes.
But it mattered little, for Rachel had neither answered his invitation nor thanked him for the flowers. Weeks passed and he stopped driving past Panache, hoping it would help evict her from his
thoughts. But nothing helped. Nothing.
There were times when he grew righteously angry, thinking, The world is full of women, why do I waste my time mooning over one who keeps saying no? There are plenty of nice women in the world, and how do I know one of them wouldn't please me just as much as Rachel? Hell, I haven't been with a really decent woman in years!
He was in precisely such a mood one day as he stepped to the doorway between his office and Liz's, glancing up to ask her about an invoice he was holding. But she was on the phone so he stood for a moment, waiting for her to finish the conversation.
She had a pleasant way about her when doing business on the phone. She never got upset or impatient, and she laughed readily, as she did now, at something being said on the other end of the line. She lifted her eyes to Tommy Lee and gave him an I'll-be-done-in-a-minute signal.
He stood listening and watching while she concluded the conversation, realizing once again how attractive she was. Her blond hair was shorter now for the summer and she wore a fresh butter-yellow suit as tasteful and attractive
as anything Rachel might wear. Come 223 to think of it, she was a lot like Rachel. She was nice, decent, and infinitely respectable. She dressed and acted like a lady at all times, was poised, efficient, and friendly. No matter what his own mood, hers remained cheerful-and he realized he'd been grouchy more often than not lately.
Liz hung up the phone and said, 'Sorry. What can I do for you?'
And out of the clear blue sky, Tommy Lee answered, 'You can go out to dinner with me tonight.'
Liz's eyebrows rose in surprise. 'To dinner!'
'Well, it's about time, isn't it? You've worked for me six years and I've never even treated you to a night out. And you deserve it. I've been a regular bear lately. I don't know how you put up with me.'
She laughed and replied, 'Come to think of it, you have.'
'Does that mean yes?'
'I'm sorry. The boys will be home and I probably can't find a baby-sitter on such short notice.'
'How about your parents?' He saw her waver momentarily and pushed his advantage. 'Come on. Help me celebrate-I've lost over half the weight I've set out to lose.'
'And you want to celebrate by putting some of it back on? A real friend would say absolutely not.'
'I'll pick you up at seven-what do you say?' She chuckled and was already turning toward her typewriter as she gave in. 'Oh, all right, but if you don't let me get back to work I'll still be here at seven.'
They had a delightful meal at a Mexican restaurant in Florence, and afterward talked all the way back to Russellville. Their years of working closely with each other put them very much at ease, and they found themselves readily able to converse on a variety of subjects, laughing at Liz's amusing anecdotes about her boys, discussing the personalities of various people Tommy Lee did business with, and reaching back into their ample store of high school and college stories to come up with the most outrageous pranks they had pulled in their youth.
When they reached Liz's house he walked her
to the door, their spirit still bright, feeling 225 relaxed and easy with each other.
'Thank you so much, Mr. Gentry. The dinner was delicious and I had a wonderful time.'
'That goes double for me, but you could drop the formalities and call me Tommy Lee.'
'It wouldn't seem right to call my boss Tommy Lee.'
'But tonight I'm not your boss… just a friend, okay?'
'Well, in any case, good night, and thank you again.' She was already turning away toward the door when he captured her arm and swung her back to face him.
'Hey, not so fast there.'
'Tomorrow's a workday and I wouldn't want to be late,' she replied perkily. 'The boss might get upset.'
