Don't be so damned sanctimonious about this.'
'First it's temperamental, now it's sanctimonious,' he muttered disgustedly. 'I suppose what it comes down to is we look at this little…venture from two different perspectives.'
Brooke felt a light flutter of fear inside her breast.
'I told you,' she said quietly, 'that it would be difficult.' His eyes came back to her, recognizing the shield she was already prepared to bring down. Parks ran a finger down her cheek. 'And I told you it would be fun.' Leaning closer, he brushed his lips over hers. 'We're both right. I have some things to do. Can I meet you back here later?''
Relaxing, Brooke told herself she had imagined the fear. 'If you like. I'll probably be tied up until around five.'
''Fine. You can cook me that dinner you promised me last night.'
Brooke lifted her chin. 'I never promised to cook you dinner,' she corrected. 'But perhaps I will.'
'I'll buy the wine.' Parks sent her a grin before he turned away.
'Wait.' After a moment, Brooke went after him. 'You don't have your car.'
Parks shrugged. 'I'll take a cab.' He saw her hesitate then struggle with a decision.
'No,' she said abruptly, digging in her bag. 'You can use mine.'
Parks took the keys, and her hand. He knew enough about her to realize offering the use of her car, or anything else important to her, wasn't a casual gesture. 'Thank you.'
Her color rose-the first truly self-conscious thing he had noticed about her. 'You're welcome.'
Quickly, she drew her hand from his and turned away. 'See you at five,' she called over her shoulder without stopping.
Brooke felt a bit foolish as she rode the elevator to Claire's office. How could she have blushed over a simple thank-you for the loan of a car? She glanced up at the numbers flashing over the elevator door. Oh, he knew her too well, she realized, knew her too well when she'd hardly told him anything.
He didn't know she still had the copy of Little Women her second foster mother had given her. He didn't know that she had adored those temporary parents and had been devastated when a broken marriage had caused her to be placed in another foster home. He didn't know about the horrid little girl she had shared a room with during what she still considered the worst year of her life. Or the Richardsons, who had treated her more like a hired hand than a foster child. Or Clark.
With a sigh, Brooke rubbed her fingers over her forehead. She didn't like to remember-didn't like knowing that her growing feelings for Parks seemed to force her to face the past again. Oh, the hell with it, Brooke thought with a shake of her head. It was the past. And she was going to have enough trouble dealing with the present to dwell on it.
Steadier, she stepped out into the wide, carpeted corridor of Claire's floor. The receptionist, a pretty girl with lots of large healthy teeth, straightened in her chair at Brooke's approach. She'd worked on the top floor for over two years and was still more in awe of Brooke than of Claire.
'Good afternoon, Ms. Gordon.'
'Hello, Sheila. Ms. Thorton's expecting me.'
'Yes, ma'am.' Sheila wouldn't have contradicted her if her life had depended on it.
Unaware of the impression she made, Brooke strode easily down the corridor and through a set of wide glass doors. Here, two secretaries, known as the twins only because of identical desks, labored away on word processors. The outer office was huge, scrupulously modern and cathedral quiet.
'Ms. Gordon.' The first twin beamed a smile while a second one reached for the button on her intercom. 'She's expecting me,' Brooke said simply and breezed by them into Claire's office. The door opened silently. Brooke was halfway across the pewter colored carpet before she realized Claire was sound asleep at her desk. Totally stunned, Brooke stopped dead in her tracks and stared.
The chair Claire sat in was high-backed pale-gray leather. Her desk was ebony, gleaming beneath stacks of neat papers. The glasses Claire wore for reading were held loosely in her hand. A Chinese 'literary painting' in color wash and ink hung on the wall to her right, while behind her L.A. sunshine poured through a plate-glass window. Unsure what to do, Brooke considered leaving as quietly as she had come, then decided it was best to stay. Walking to the squashy leather chair facing the desk, she sat, then gently cleared her throat. Claire's eyes snapped open. 'Morning,' Brooke said brightly and grinned at Claire's uncharacteristic confusion. 'You'd do better on the sofa if you want a nap.'
'Just resting my eyes.'
'Mm-hmm.'
Ignoring the comment, Claire reached for the papers she had been reading before fatigue had won. 'I wanted you to have a look at the script for the next de Marco spot.'
'Okay.' Brooke accepted the script automatically. 'Claire, are you all right?'
'Don't I look all right?'
Deciding to take her literally, Brooke studied her. Except for the heavy eyes, she decided, Claire looked better than ever. Almost, Brooke mused, glowing. 'You look marvelous.'
'Well then.' Claire smoothed her hair before she folded her hands.
'Didn't you sleep well last night?' Brooke persisted.
'As it happens, I was out late. Now the script.'
'With Lee Dutton?' The thought went through her mind and out her lips before she could stop it. Claire gave her a tolerant smile.
'As a matter of fact, yes.'
Brooke set the script back on the desk. 'Claire,' she began, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.
'Your lunch, Ms. Thorton.' A tray was wheeled in by twin number one.
The scent of hot roast beef had Brooke rising. 'Claire, I misjudged you.' Lifting the cover from a hot plate, she inhaled. 'Forgive me.'
'Did you think I'd let you go hungry?' With a chuckle, Claire stood to move to the sofa. 'Brooke, dear, I've known you too long. Bring me my salad and coffee like a good girl.'
Nibbling on a potato wedge, Brooke obeyed.
''Claire, I really want to talk with you about Lee Dutton.' 'Of course.' Claire speared a radish slice. 'Sit down and eat, Brooke, pacing's bad for my digestion.' Plate in hand, Brooke approached the couch. She set it on the low coffee table, picked up half a roast beef sandwich and began. 'Claire, are you actually dating Lee Dutton?'
''Does dating seem inappropriate to you for someone of my age, Brooke? Pass me that salt.'
'No!' Flustered, Brooke looked down at Claire's outstretched hand. She gave her the salt shaker then took a defiant; bite of her sandwich. 'Don't be ridiculous,' she muttered over it. 'I can see you dating all manner of fabulous men. I have trouble seeing you out on the town with Lee Dutton.'
'Why?'
Brooke shifted her shoulders uncomfortably. This wasn't how she had intended it to go. 'Well, he's nice enough, and certainly sharp, but he seems sort of…well.' Brooke sighed and tried again. 'Let's put it this way: I can see Lee Dutton in the neighborhood bowling alley. I can't picture you there.'
'No…' Claire pursed her lips in thought. 'We haven't tried that yet.'
'Claire!' Exasperated, Brooke rose and began to pace again. 'I'm not getting through to you. Look, I don't want to interfere with your life-'
'No?' The mild smile had Brooke flopping back down on the couch.
'You matter to me.'
Claire reached over to squeeze her hand. 'I appreciate that, Brooke, I've been taking care of myself for a long time. I've even handled a few men.'
A bit reassured, Brooke began to eat again. 'I suppose if I thought you were really getting involved…'
'What makes you think I'm not?' At Brooke's gaping stare, Claire laughed.
'Claire, are you-are you…' She gestured, not quite certain she should put her thoughts into words. 'Sleeping with him?' Claire finished in her calm, cultured voice. 'Not yet.'
'Not yet,' Brooke echoed numbly.
'Well, he hasn't asked me to.' Claire took another bite of salad and chewed thoughtfully. ''I thought he would
