Harte's Desire Part 15

"You're all set," she confirmed, hanging up the phone and giving Libby a worried look. "Is everything OK with you, honey? You know, if you ever need someone to talk to, I hope you feel you can trust me."

"Thanks for the offer, Edwina, but this is nothing I can't handle myself." Libby tried hard to inject confidence into her voice, but felt she'd failed miserably. Being in Harte's Desire again was slowly eroding her ability to think clearly.

"Well, I'll only be here another couple of weeks helping Mr. Fulbright, the new supervisor, get adjusted. But you can always call me in Philadelphia if you need me."

Edwina leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I know Mr. D. can be difficult at times, honey, but he's got a caring streak in him a mile wide. He has a hard time trusting people, but once he does there's not a thing he wouldn't do to help them. I'm not so old I can't see the sparks that fly between the two of you. You both light up like the sky on the Fourth of July. Believe me, Libby. I know he feels something for you."

That was then and this is now, Libby thought ruefully. And Chris would never trust her again after she confronted him with the truth. She wanted him out of her life, and thoughts, once and for all.

"I'll keep that in mind," was all Libby could answer.

"If Mr. Fulbright was around, I'd introduce you, but he's not in today. Next time you're here, remind me, OK? I know you'll be making the final preparations for the big event. If you need my help, just let me know."

Edwina paused. "Oh, yes, Chris wanted me to tell you the entrance hall will be off limits for the next few weeks. The ceiling by the staircase finally came down over the weekend. You remember, that area where the bathroom above it was leaking? Well thank goodness no one was here when it fell. Made quite a mess, too. Mr. D. had me block it off until it could be patched up. He knew you'd want to use the hall for the fundraiser."

"No wonder I couldn't get in the front door," Libby chuckled. "I'm sure the last thing he wanted was to spend money on a place he's going to tear down weeks later."

"I can tell you he was very concerned about it, but he said the repairs should be finished in time."

"That's kind of him, isn't it?" Libby said, relieved to know she wouldn't have to scramble to rearrange the circulation plans. "Can I take a peek at the damage?"

"Sorry, but I've got strict orders not to let anyone near there. Insurance and liability reasons, Mr. D. says. He even had me board up all the doorways in case more plaster comes down before it can be fixed. You'll just have to settle for using the kitchen door like the rest of us 'servants'!" Edwina laughed at her own joke.

"I get the hint," Libby replied, then added, "I meant to tell you that the historical society wants to invite you and your husband to the dinner dance as our guests. We'll also be sending Chris two tickets and I'd better include two for Mr. Fulbright as well. Just a small token of our appreciation for all the trouble we've caused."

"No trouble at all, Libby, and you don't have to mail a thing. Mr. D. already bought a table of ten tickets so I'm definitely coming."

Libby looked at Edwina incredulously. "He bought ten tickets?"

"Sure did. Told me I had to come. Of course, I was coming even if I had to pay my own way, but I didn't tell him that!"

Libby swallowed hard. "D-do you think he plans on attending?"

"I can't say for sure. Why don't you ask him when you see him next week?"

"Yes, I'll do that." And Libby would, because if Chris was going to be there, she'd much rather stay home and read a good book. The thought of seeing him with a date, or even without one, made her blood boil. Maybe she'd even go away for the weekend. Anything so she wouldn't have to be in Harte's Desire with him again.

"Well, I'm going to go cut some roses and head back to my office," Libby stated. "Do you think Chris would mind if I dug up a few of the bushes to put in my own garden? I'd hate to see all of them get bulldozed."

"I'll ask him next time he calls, but I doubt he'll object." Edwina looked at Libby warily. "What do you want me to tell him when he asks why you're not returning his calls?"

"You can tell him the truth," Libby countered as she prepared to leave. "Tell him I don't have anything to say to him until next Tuesday."

She watched Edwina digest the meaning of her tersely delivered message, sorry that the kindly woman had to be caught in the middle of their personal warfare.

"OK, Elizabeth, I'll take care of it," Edwina offered, turning back to her keyboard. "Remember, I'm here if you need me," she called to Libby's departing figure.

Chapter Twenty-Five.

Libby squinted under the harsh glare of light reflected by the mirrored windows of the skysc.r.a.per in front of her. She gazed up at the ultra-modern, forty-story structure of polished metal and gla.s.s, noting dryly how much it looked like every other building Christopher Darnell erected.

As the revolving door spit out an interesting variety of secretaries, business men and women, and delivery personnel, she gathered the courage to go inside. Although she'd been busy the past week, the days had ticked by too slowly to suit her. But now that she was literally at his doorstep, she wanted another week--no, another month--to prepare for their confrontation.

Libby took a deep breath then resolved it was best for all concerned to get this over with today. Here. Now. So she could get on with her life. A life without Christopher Darnell.

The revolving door whooshed behind Libby as she stepped into a three-story lobby drenched in bright sun streaming from several skylights overhead, giving the large s.p.a.ce the feel of an atrium. The lobby's stark angles and lines were softened by potted plants, comfortable-looking upholstered chairs and sofas, and plush area rugs. A uniformed doorman directed her to the elevators and instructed her to get off at the top floor.

Two minutes later, Libby emerged from the elevator and found herself in the corporate offices of Darnell Development. Directly in front of her was a bank of floor to ceiling windows which overlooked picturesque Rittenhouse Square and a good portion of downtown Philadelphia including the wharves along Dock Street. The waiting area was businesslike but surprisingly cozy, with red leather wing chairs grouped around a rich navy and red Persian rug.

Libby approached a pretty, young receptionist who was beautifully dressed in a tailored suit and announced herself. The receptionist led Libby down a long hallway to what had to be Chris's office located at its far end. His secretary sat at an expensive-looking cherry desk which matched the cherry paneled walls of a waiting area decorated in the same navy and red as the other outside the elevator. A ma.s.sive, raised panel door bore a bra.s.s plaque handsomely engraved with "Christopher Darnell, President."

Libby's imagination, and heartbeat, s.h.i.+fted into high gear as she pictured Chris behind the tightly closed door, seated at a ma.s.sive desk, radiating confidence and strength. Restraining herself from barging into his office to be done with the unpleasantness ahead, Libby pasted a bright smile on her face and approached the secretary.

"h.e.l.lo," she said, with all the self-a.s.surance she could muster. "I have a two o'clock appointment with Mr. Darnell. Would you please announce me as 'Libby Chatham' ? I'm afraid when Mrs. McElroy made the appointment she got me confused with someone else."

The secretary, who until now had barely acknowledged Libby's presence, glanced up sharply. The shock of recognizing Libby's name was clearly conveyed by the startled look on her face.

"You're Libby Chatham?" she asked, her eyes widening.

Libby merely nodded in a.s.sent.

"Are you sure you want to meet with Mr. Darnell?" the secretary confirmed with disbelief.

Libby suddenly had the sinking realization that her reputation within Darnell Development was much worse than she'd ever suspected. So much the better she decided with renewed determination.

"I'm positive." She wasn't going to back down now.

"I'll tell him you're here. Why don't you wait over there," she directed, pointing to an overstuffed chair near a gla.s.s-topped coffee table covered with neatly arranged magazines.

Too nervous to read, Libby sat down as instructed and watched the steady stream of employees who dropped off stacks of papers and blueprints with Chris's secretary. They spoke in hushed tones, acting as though the boss was having a bad day and they had no desire to further add to his troubles.

After ten minutes, the door to Chris's office opened and a very frazzled-looking young executive stepped out, closing the door so quickly behind him that Libby never got a glimpse inside. Pulling a wrinkled handkerchief from his pants pocket, he nervously mopped his sweat-beaded brow.

"The boss is sure loaded for bear today, Cheryl," he complained to Chris's secretary, his voice loud enough for Libby to hear every word. "I feel glad to be alive after that meeting."

"Yeah, he's in rare form, alright," Cheryl agreed. "I'm not sure why, though. He told me his London deal went off without a hitch."

"Well, you wouldn't know it by the black mood he's in," he said, shaking his head.

Cheryl's voice dropped a full octave, so Libby couldn't hear the rest of the conversation, but as the young man kept repeatedly glancing back at Libby with undisguised curiosity, Libby decided they were talking about her. She was about to escape their attention by walking over to the windows when the man strode purposely toward her.

"Ms. Chatham?" he addressed her tentatively.

"Yes?" Libby replied, wondering what he could possibly want with her.

"h.e.l.lo. I'm Henry Tremont," he said, extending his right hand.

Libby endured his vigorous handshake while questioning his intentions.

"I had to come over and introduce myself. You're a legend around here and I just had to meet the woman who's brought the boss down, so to speak, so many times." Henry continued to pump Libby's hand excitedly until she finally broke free from his grip.

"I'm, ah,...it's, ah, nice to meet you Mr. Tremont," Libby managed to utter, not knowing what else to say.

"Likewise," Henry replied. "You know, we had an office pool going a few months ago to see how long it would take you to get wind of the boss' purchase of that old mansion in New Jersey. We were sure you'd fight him over that one, too. In fact, a couple of us were so convinced that we bet $100 each you'd win again. Why did we lose, Miss Chatham? What happened to you?" He looked at Libby apprehensively, waiting her reply.

"It's a long story, Henry." Libby's throat constricted and tears p.r.i.c.ked her eyes as memories of her mother rushed in. "But I'm flattered to know that I have a small, but loyal, band of followers in the enemy's camp," she said, regaining a tight grip on her emotions.

"Henry! Didn't I just a.s.sign enough work to keep you busy from now until Christmas? Or do I need to double your load?" Chris's deep voice boomed from the doorway to his office. He glared at Henry, who stared down at the floor sheepishly, acting very much like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yes sir, Mr. Darnell. I'm going back to my desk now," Henry said apologetically, still avoiding Chris's eyes. "Nice to meet you, Ms. Chatham," he called out as he scurried down the hallway.

"Why don't you come in, Ms. Chatham?" Chris suggested politely, placing a not-so-subtle emphasis on her last name as he held the door open for her.

Libby glanced down the hall after Henry's retreating figure only to see several employees cautiously poking their heads out of their offices, apparently curious about the activity in front of Chris's office. Knowing she was providing fodder for a whole week's worth of gossip, Libby straightened her shoulders and marched past Chris through the open doorway.

Closing the door softly behind him, Chris gestured for Libby to sit in one of the leather-covered arm chairs placed before his desk. Moving with the grace of a panther stalking its prey, Chris strode across the room and sat down in the ma.s.sive upholstered chair from which he conducted business. His gla.s.s-topped desk, supported by two verdigris columns, was uncluttered except for a pen stand, a pad of paper, and a single, thick manila file folder placed to the side.

Libby's heart did an unbidden flip-flop as Chris trained his sharp blue-green eyes on her while she sat down opposite him. Fighting to maintain her composure despite the mounting attraction she always felt in his presence, Libby returned his gaze with cool defiance.

Chris looked as handsome and masculine as ever. A crisp, pale blue, b.u.t.ton down s.h.i.+rt accented the strong lines of his face and his s.h.i.+rt sleeves were rolled up, as they usually were, exposing strong, muscular forearms. He wore a dark gray, three-piece suit although the jacket was carefully hung on a coat rack in the corner.

Libby watched him select a gold pen from the holder in front of him, and blushed at the unwanted memory of the pa.s.sion those very fingers had incited in her. Swallowing hard, Libby hoped he couldn't detect the trail her thoughts had taken. She met his gaze, waiting for the explosion that would surely come now that he knew who she was.

With each silent second that pa.s.sed by, the tension between them climbed another notch.

Chris finally spoke first, his voice surprisingly soft and gentle.

"You've been avoiding me. Why?"

Libby gaped at him incredulously. Where were the harsh words of derision? The hatred-filled epithets? The torment and anguish of betrayal revealed? His unexpected response stunned her into momentary silence.

Unsure of what to say, she tore her gaze from him to flick an imagined speck of lint off her skirt. She looked back up to find Chris studying her intently, motionless and patiently waiting to hear her explanation. His tranquil composure was making her angry.

She wanted a tiger and got a lamb.

"I didn't think because we spent one night together I had to answer to you, or anyone, Mr. Darnell. Heck, even Edwina gave me the third degree last week," Libby exclaimed. "But all this is beside the point, anyway." She stopped briefly to take a deep breath before plunging into the heart of the matter. "The name Libby Chatham is reason enough, isn't it?"

"I've known who you were since the day I hired you to doc.u.ment Harte's Desire," Chris stated calmly.

The reality of the situation hit Libby with full force, tearing at her heart like a knife jab between the ribs. He'd known all along!

She'd played right into his hands, falling in love with him as he carried out what had to be a cleverly conceived plan for revenge. Here she was thinking to have the last laugh. Clearly, the joke was on her. The only emotion he'd ever felt for her was hatred for besting him in some of his real estate schemes. As if getting her to do the report wasn't enough, he snaked his way into her heart and then into her bed!

She glowered at him, her eyes flas.h.i.+ng with the loathing and betrayal she'd hoped to see in his.

"I've been a fool, Chris. A complete, utter fool, haven't I? Oh, this is rich! You finally got back at me, didn't you? Finally got even for all those times I stood in the way of your precious plans."

Libby bolted out of the chair, heading for the door. "Well, I've had enough of these games between us to last a lifetime. I'm leaving before you can find another way to hurt me."

"Libby, wait..." Chris called to her.

She spun around, tossing her blonde mane angrily behind her. "I only got what I deserved, didn't I? You probably won't believe me, but I didn't want to lie to you; I just wanted to get your permission to use Harte's Desire and I doubted you'd agree if you knew it was Libby Chatham doing the asking. I was right, wasn't I?"

"Libby, let me..."

Libby cut him off sharply, her chest heaving with fury as she saw the silent a.s.sent in his eyes. "I'll bet your ego was bruised once again, wasn't it, when you found out that I'd beaten you one more time? So you concocted this grand scheme to get back at me, didn't you? Hiring me to write that report for the State Office was really very clever, Chris. I even remember you asking if I had experience doing that sort of thing. Hah! You knew darn well by then I did, and plenty of it. But that wasn't enough, was it? You had to worm your way into my personal life, too. All that tender consolation as I grieved for my mother. The words of praise and thanks at the Orphanage. It was an act, wasn't it?"

"Libby, you've got this all..." Chris tried in vain to interrupt, but she wouldn't let him.

"No," she commanded, throwing up her hands to stop him. "Let me finish what I have to say so I can get out of your office, and your life, forever."

"I apologize for deceiving you in the beginning. I was wrong to do that, and I admit it. But you carried out this plan for revenge too far." She raised her eyes to his and forced back the tears welling there.

"I fell in love with you, d.a.m.n it!" Libby's voice shook with emotion. "It's one thing to get back at me professionally, Chris. That I can understand. But to attack me personally is unforgivable, and making love to me was the final insult."

She sucked in a deep breath. "I hate you."

Libby glared at him, her heart pounding. Chris was a frozen statue behind the desk, his expression carefully s.h.i.+elded as Libby vented her anger and frustration.

"You win," she hissed. "I surrender." She shook her head in disgust. "And feel free to use one of those ten tickets you so generously purchased for the fundraiser. You can bet that I wouldn't be caught dead in any building that you owned. Historic or otherwise!"

Libby turned on her heels and headed unerringly for the door.

"Libby, hear me out!"

Ignoring him, she gave the k.n.o.b a half turn then swung around angrily to face him for the final time.

"I have one last question, Chris. Why wouldn't you let me take some of the rose bushes from the garden at Harte's Desire's? What interest in them could you possibly have?"

Chris studied her with measured concentration. "I have my reasons, Miss Reed. And if you would care to come back in here and sit down, we could discuss them-and us-calmly and rationally, like two adults."

For a brief moment Libby was tempted. Was there a chance they could salvage something from this charade they'd both played? His eyes bored into her very soul and she felt herself succ.u.mbing to his calm logic. G.o.d knows she should hate him for what he'd done to her, and yet, somehow, she still loved him. Still wished there was a way to overcome the lies and deception denying them the chance for a true relations.h.i.+p.

But right now she hated herself more. This mess was really her fault. If she'd never deceived him or if she had at least come clean before accepting the a.s.signment, she wouldn't be in this predicament now. How he must loathe her to undertake such a soul-wrenching plan for retaliation. Maybe she deserved it, but she didn't have to stay here a minute longer and let him gloat any further over his sweet victory.

"As far as I'm concerned, Mr. Darnell, we have nothing else to discuss." She jerked the door open and scowled at him. "Have a good day."

Closing the door with a loud slam, Libby emerged into the hallway, shaken but relieved. It was over. They were over.

Cheryl looked at her contritely. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

Libby ignored her remark and headed back down the long hallway, shoulders squared and chin held high.