style="font-size:15px;"> “To tell the truth, it was caviar or vodka, unless I wanted to drag two fur coats home. Not a lot to choose from.”
“I’m not complaining,” Judson said. “Is this dry ice?”
“Yeah. Be careful not to let it burn you.”
Adelle came downstairs after having changed into a red jersey dress that advertised her assets. The four of them sat in the den, which was cozier than the thirty-by-twenty-foot living room with cathedral ceilings.
She saw the caviar on the coffee table and slowly licked the rim of her lips with her tongue, tracing the outline of her mouth in what would have been a great Marilyn Monroe imitation. “Mmm, caviar! This is the kind of delicacy that can make you forget who you are,” she said.
“In that case,” Scott said, “I would avoid it.”
Heather’s face was flush with embarrassment. She dashed into the kitchen, and quickly returned. “Dinner’s ready. Come with me,” she said hastily.
Judson said grace—a habit he’d adopted from the Harringtons—and then the housekeeper, Rosa, began serving the meal, which included broiled grapefruit as an appetizer, prime roast beef, parsleyed potatoes, asparagus and artichoke hearts. A wedge of Stilton cheese, followed by lemon meringue pie, completed the dinner.
“Rosa, you and women like you are the reason why I’m so happy to be back home,” said Scott, as Rosa served the pie. Judson dropped his fork on the dessert plate, and began coughing to avoid choking as he tried to suppress his amusement.
“Mr. Ambassador, you just made my day,” said Rosa, soaking up the praise. “I love to cook, and it makes me happy when I know my people enjoy what I serve them. Thank you, sir.”
Scott had hoped that he’d sent the right message—that he liked simple things, and in his choice of women, he preferred the girl next door. “I just tell it like it is, Rosa. You’re a wonderful cook.”
“What a lovely evening for a walk,” Adelle said, looking at Scott.
“Judson’s cousins and their wives will be over in a few minutes,” Heather said, “and the only reason they’re coming is to see Scott. Maybe you can go for a walk later,” she continued. Minutes later, Drake Harrington, the youngest of the three Harrington brothers, and his wife, Pamela, joined them.
“Damn!” Scott said, looking at Drake when he walked into the room. “I forgot how much alike you and Judson are. Your grandfather had some powerful genes.”
“It’s our private joke,” Drake said, pulling out Pamela’s chair and making himself comfortable. “It’s a good thing we have a sense of humor, ’cause we confuse a lot of people.”
“Right,” Judson added, “and we’re lucky that our wives have become very good friends and don’t mind the resemblance.”
“The first time I saw Judson, I nearly went into shock,” Pamela said. “It took some getting used to.”
Scott observed Adelle surreptitiously. He could have sworn she seemed to salivate, but whether it was because of him or Drake Harrington, he wasn’t sure. Telford Harrington and his brother Russ arrived together, along with their wives, Alexis and Velma, who were sisters. Immediately Velma began entertaining them with her stories, and Scott leaned back in his chair, sipping piña coladas, listening to the various conversations and enjoying the good company. Like a long-lost son, Scott felt that he had come home to surroundings of warmth and love. Adelle Smith was out of her element, and her obvious discomfort showed it.
By ten-thirty, Scott felt a bit jet-lagged. He told his hosts he was tired and went to his room. He would have preferred to continue the conversation, which he had greatly enjoyed, but he reasoned that Adelle wouldn’t have the nerve to follow him up the stairs in such an obvious ploy. He locked the door, and thought to himself, Safe for at least one night.
The next morning, he called Judson on his cell phone. “Say, man, what time is breakfast and who’s up?”
Laughter seemed to roar out of Judson’s mouth. “I had almost forgotten that you were so blunt. The reason for running off last night was obvious. But if you’re hungry, why give a damn who’s up?”
“Why, indeed? I like my breakfast in peace. I don’t know, though. Something tells me that if Drake’s around, I won’t have a problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Her mouth looked like it was watering once he arrived.”
He didn’t need the phone to hear Judson’s laughter. “Come on downstairs, man. Rosa made a fantastic breakfast.”
Scott dressed for dinner that evening, since he assumed he’d be expected to drive Adelle home to Baltimore. It would also give him the opportunity to let her know in no uncertain terms that he was not interested in her.
“If you give me the keys to your Mercedes, I’ll drive Adelle back to Baltimore,” Scott said to Judson, in a quiet moment away from the rest of the guests, when they gathered for predinner drinks.
Judson’s eyebrows shot up. “You sure you want to do that?”
“It’s the best chance to disabuse her of any notion she has about me. It’ll take me no longer than the half hour or so that it takes me to drive there and back.”
A grin flashed across Judson’s face. “That time as a bigwig didn’t change you one bit. Glad to see it.” He reached into his trouser pockets, took out two sets of keys and handed the smaller one to Scott. “This is the house key and this is the car key.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
After dinner, he tired of waiting for Adelle to announce that she was leaving, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. “Adelle, if you’re going to Baltimore tonight, I’ll be glad to drive you, but we’ll need to leave now.” He felt the tiniest inkling of guilt when he saw her face break out in the warmest smile he’d witnessed, but he quickly shook it off.
He managed to avoid saying anything personal during the drive to Baltimore. The conversation had been amicable by the time they arrived at her condominium, in what was obviously an upscale neighborhood.
“Aren’t you coming in?” she asked him, when he opened the car door for her. He stood back and extended his hand for a handshake, leaving her clearly aghast.
He shook his head. “To do that would send you the wrong message. I’m not interested, Adelle, and I do not mislead women. Good night.” He left her standing in front of her apartment building, walked back to the driver’s side of the car and got in. When she didn’t move, he started the car to let her know that he wasn’t joking. Only then did she turn and enter the building. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t think of being that rude, but he hadn’t met many women like Adelle. He hoped that Pamela Harrington was an observant woman, and that she’d noticed the look in Adelle’s eyes as she ogled Pamela’s husband, Drake.
“We’re having a barbecue this afternoon,” Heather told Scott at breakfast the next morning, “and all the Harringtons will be here.”
“What about Tara? And Henry? Is he coming?”
“Indeed,
