A Kiss Too Late

Jen gritted her teeth, but managed a polite smile. It seemed she was always too old for the lead. “I’m just looking for work,” Jen said. “Any work.”

The red-haired woman gave her another bored look. “The aunt’s part is a possibility. The spinster aunt. Here’s the script–start at scene two. George will read with you.”

Now Jen’s anticipation turned to apprehension. She climbed the steps to the stage and sat down on a folding metal chair. George turned out to be a grizzled man who mumbled his lines so that Jen could hardly tell what he was saying. She stared at the script in front of her, trying to conjure up some idea of the proper emotions for a spinster aunt. But all that came to her were vague feelings of bitter resignation.

Then George mumbled her cue and Jen responded automatically. Her voice sounded tinny and unconvincing even to her own ears. She couldn’t help wondering what Adam would say if he saw her here. He’d probably be incredulous–damn him. He’d probably laugh. His thirty-two-year-old ex-wife actually thinking she could break into a field brutal enough to girls ten years her junior. Adam would probably tell Jen to wake up and forget her dreams.

Somehow Jen got through the rest of the audition, knowing it was a miserable failure. Of course, the fake redhead had hardly seemed to be paying attention. She thanked Jen perfunctorily and went back to her conversation. Jen walked slowly from the theater and out to the bustling street.

She’d never botched an audition this badly before, not even during her first days in New York. Last night Adam Prescott had come back into her life. She’d allowed him to take her into his arms–and she’d allowed him to shake her confidence, as well.

She couldn’t allow it to happen again.

CHAPTER TWO

J EN STARED out the window of the bus, already certain she was making a mistake. She didn’t want to return to Newport. She wasn’t ready yet. But here she was, traveling up from New York, regretting every mile that rumbled under the wheels of the bus, regretting every mile that brought her closer to home.

She knew she’d see Adam again, of course. He’d be here for her mother’s wedding; he was practically an adopted son of the Hillard family. But it had been only a week since the tumultuous night Jen had spent with him. Her face heated just at the memory.

A book lay in her lap, open but unread. She slapped it shut and stuffed it into her carryall. The bus was now traveling through the narrow streets of Newport, Rhode Island, and she tried to resist the quaint beauty of the town: the old wooden houses standing cheek by jowl, the vines trailing from window boxes, the showy rhododendrons sprouting everywhere like colorful balloons.

When the bus pulled up at the station, Jen had to force herself to get off with the rest of the passengers. She felt tense as she made her way into the station with her carryall and one small suitcase. She tried to reassure herself that she wouldn’t be staying long in Newport. A few days–would it really be so bad? Afterward she’d return to New York and to the life that truly mattered to her.

“Hello, Jen,” said a voice behind her, the unmistakable voice of Adam Prescott. Jen drew in her breath. She’d expected to have a little more time to prepare herself. What was he doing here, anyway?

She couldn’t turn to face him–she just couldn’t! Not after that impetuous night they’d spent together. Jen remained frozen where she was, her back turned to Adam. Unfortunately, even though she wasn’t looking at him, she felt his presence like an overwhelming force. Her nerves seemed to tingle uncomfortably, just because she knew he was there….

At last Adam came around in front of her, and she actually had to look at him. She struggled to present an aloof facade, but she didn’t think she was very successful.

“Hello, Adam,” she said stiffly. “It’s…a surprise to see you. I thought you’d still be in Boston.”

He gave a faint, skeptical smile. “You don’t have to be polite with me, Jen.”

She gazed at him. Adam had always been much too direct for her liking. And he was much too attractive and too self-assured. His dark brown hair with distinctive hints of gray waved back from his forehead. Prematurely gray hair was a Prescott family trait, and Adam had started to show the first silvery streaks when he was in his early twenties. He was forty now, and the Prescott trademark had worn well on him. Everything wore well on the man, including that dark luxuriant mustache of his. If possible, he looked even better than he had a week ago….

He was indulging in a perusal of his own. “I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye the other day,” he said quietly.

“Still, you managed to leave your message.” She rummaged inside her carryall, found an envelope and thrust it at him. “There. I’m returning your money. I hardly expected payment for…services rendered.” She was furious, but somehow she kept her voice cool.

Adam stared at the envelope. “I think you know that wasn’t my intention. I was worried about you, Jen. After seeing how you live, it doesn’t make sense…”

Jen sighed. “Let’s drop it, all right? Everything. What happened in New York was a mistake for both of us.”

He pocketed the envelope, regarding her with a dissatisfied expression. Jen gazed into his dark brown eyes a trifle too long. He was unsettling her all over again. Why did he affect her this way? Somehow she managed a shrug.

“I expected the chauffeur to come for me. I can’t imagine you tearing yourself away from your newspaper. Did my mother bribe you?”

“I arranged to take a few days off. And I volunteered to pick you up. I thought we could finally clear the air about a few things.”

“We’ve done enough damage already,” she said tightly, but Adam had taken her suitcase and was leading the way out of the station as if he expected her to follow automatically. Hadn’t it always been like that, Adam leading, Jen expected to follow?

She stood in the middle of the station, watching Adam’s broad-shouldered back retreat. No matter that his shoulders looked wonderful in that dark, silk-woven jacket. Surely after all this time she knew how to resist his appeal.

She’d never been good at resisting him, that was the problem. Even during those painful times of their marriage, she’d longed for him, ached to have him near. With Adam, she’d always been like tinder waiting for the touch of flame. In the end, there’d been only one solution. Her one hope of making a life for herself had been to leave Adam.

Now he reached the door and turned to glance back at her, waiting. She was tempted to let him wait, but she couldn’t ignore practicalities. She’d have to go with him, or walk–and if he had something he wanted to say to her, he’d stick around until he’d said it. She knew him well enough to know that. With another sigh, Jen went to the door and out to the parking lot with Adam.

He tossed her suitcase into the trunk of a tasteful sedan that managed to convey a hint of recklessness in its lines, as if at heart the vehicle was actually a race car. Adam himself was rather like that, his appearance subtly polished but suggesting reckless energy underneath.

Jen slid into the passenger seat, and a few seconds later Adam wheeled the car out of the lot. Pressing a button on his side, he lowered Jen’s window. Feeling contrary, she found the button on her side and raised the glass. But soon the car became too hot, and with a grumble she lowered the window again.

“You used to do that a lot,” Adam said. “Even before we were married, remember? We’d go out to dinner, and you’d insist on being the one to pay the tab. You’d argue with my opinion about a concert or a play or a book. You’d argue with me about anything.”

Jen found herself tensing again. She’d been so young when she’d fallen in love with Adam. Young, in love and at the same time needing desperately to declare her independence. From the beginning, Adam’s powerful personality had inspired both fascination and rebellion in her. It had made for a volatile combination.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” she murmured. “But you never understood–”

“I knew what was going on. I’m not dense, Jenny.”

Jenny. It had been his own private name for her, a name that no one else had ever used. It seemed to have slipped out just now almost against his will. He stared straight ahead, not saying anything more. Jen stared straight ahead, too. The silence was potent, filled with all the unspoken recriminations and misunderstandings between them.

Jen made an effort to concentrate on the scenery. After a short while they left the crowded downtown streets behind and began driving along the ocean. A few people were out with their fishing poles, and gulls sunned themselves on the rocks. Out on the water, sailboats skimmed easily along. Jen wished she could enjoy the relaxed view, but she was only growing more keyed up in Adam’s company. And clearly he was determined to have his say. He pulled off the road and onto a point that overlooked the water. Waves surged against the rocks below, the ocean restless. Adam seemed restless, as well. He swung out of the car as if too impatient to sit still any longer.

Jen climbed out, too, and went to stand a short distance from him. Offshore, a tall ship rode the swells. It was a big, four-masted schooner at full sail, a ship that could have materialized straight from the nineteenth century–the past merging into the present on this lazy summer afternoon.

At last Jen glanced over at Adam. “If you’re going to talk about the other night, please don’t. We both had too much to drink, that’s all. We got carried away.”

The breeze ruffled Adam’s hair until it was no longer so impeccably groomed. His voice was gruff when he spoke.

“I had a lot more I wanted to tell you that night. I didn’t get a chance. The fact is, you’ve been trying to avoid me this past year, Jen. And you’ve also been avoiding your family. That isn’t right. They need you, and you can’t go on letting them down.”

Jen stared at him. “That’s what you wanted to tell me? You wanted to give me a lecture on my family? I suppose I should’ve known.” She kicked a small stone. “And I’m not hiding out in New York, trying to avoid you. I’m simply leading my own life. A good, happy life, by the way.” She stopped. Why did she feel so defensive around Adam? Why was she trying to justify herself to him?

His features were set in the hard, uncompromising lines so familiar to her. “A good life?” he echoed skeptically. “Don’t forget, Jen, I’ve seen your apartment. I don’t know what the hell you’re doing in New York, but that’s not the point. New York’s only a couple of hours away. You’ve been acting like it’s in another country, always making excuses why you can’t come home. And that is hurting your family. All I’m trying to tell you is–don’t do it on my account. You can start coming home again.”

She made an attempt at laughter. “Now you’re giving me permission to return. I guess you never really understood me or why I left you. And obviously you still don’t understand.”

“Explain it to me, then. Let’s straighten this out once and for all.”

Anger churned inside her. This was typical Adam Prescott–behaving as if she was someone he had to bring into line.

“I tried to explain it to you, Adam. A hundred times I tried. But you never listened.”

They stood facing each other on the rocky outcropping, the waves splashing unheeded below. Adam jammed his hands into his pockets.

“This is about the newspaper,” he said, “isn’t it? You always resented how much time I put into it.”

She made a gesture of futility. They’d been apart all this time, and still it seemed their arguments were destined to follow the same path.