Destiny Unknown Read online

  "Glad I gave you some amusement."

  She didn't sound glad, and the sight he'd encountered when he'd stepped into that bedroom hadn't been fun or amusing. Seeing Bernadette on the bed and Drew Bartlett over her had raised his protective instincts and more. Maybe nothing could come of a relationship between them, but that didn't stop him from wanting her or from thinking of her as his.

  Thor came in from the kitchen and curled up beside him, laying his head on his lap. Absently, Cody scratched between the dog's ears, hoping Thor didn't grace them with one of his late night gifts. "Lights low," Cody commanded, and the lights dimmed, the room taking on a dusky glow. "Okay, I've told you about my family. Now it's your turn to tell me about yours."

  "There's not a lot to tell." She moved down to sit beside him. "I have one sister, Effie, who's two years my junior, and is a clown—literally. She's now married to Parker Morgan, who she's loved since she was in her teens. You lost a father. We lost a mother. She died when I was seven and Effie was five. From that time on, we were raised by our grandparents. We see our father usually two or three times a year, otherwise he's over in Egypt digging up old bones and broken pieces of pottery or traveling around the world, giving lectures."

  "He's an archeologist?"

  "Uh-huh." She reached over to where she'd set her purse. "I have a recent picture of him at one of the digs. He gave it to me when he was here for Effie's wedding."

  Cody looked at the snapshot. It showed a man kneeling in front of an assortment of pottery fragments. Lean and tanned from the sun, his face was wrinkled and his hair was mostly gray, with just a tinge of red. Cody glanced up at Bernadette. "I see a little resemblance, but not much."

  "My sister resembles his side of the family. Everyone says I look like my mother."

  "Are you close to him?"

  "How close can you get to a man you rarely see, who drops in and out of your life?"

  Her wistful expression touched Cody, and he found it ironic. "You'd like to be closer to your father; I'm glad to be far away from my stepfather." He handed back the picture. "Actually, we have a lot in common. We both lost a parent, grandparents played a part in our childhood, and the one remaining parent has more or less deserted us, yours for artifacts and mine for a man who will give her the lifestyle she most desires."

  Bernadette stared at the picture of her father. "So why do we care?"

  "Good question." And one he didn't have an answer for, so he changed the subject. "What were your grandparents like?"

  Again, she looked back, a smile replacing her melancholy. "Nice. Loving. Kind of old fashioned, and not very cultured." The smile became a grin. "That I've had to teach myself."

  "And how do you teach yourself culture?"

  "By going to concerts and plays . . . the ballet. When I was in college, I attended anything and everything I could afford to buy a ticket to or could talk someone into taking me to."

  He wasn't sure if she realized what she was doing, but she'd reached over and was running a fingertip across the top of Thor's head. When she slid her fingers down the side of the dog's head and into the ruff around Thor's neck, it wasn't just the dog she was stroking. Immediately, there was a tightening in his crotch, a jolt of desire shooting through Cody's loins. He held his breath, afraid to move. Saying nothing, he swallowed hard.

  Bernadette went on talking, either not realizing what she was doing or more audacious than he'd suspected. "I remember trying to get Parker to like opera," she said and laughed softly. "That was a losing proposition. And he absolutely refused to go to the ballet with me. Did you know I went with Parker when I was a teenager?"

  Cody shook his head, afraid to talk.

  She nodded and went back to stroking Thor's head and neck. "Parker and I went together for three years. Broke up the year I graduated from high school. Now my sister's married to him. It's kind of crazy, really."

  He made a sound that he hoped she took as agreement. He would call it a groan. Crazy pretty well described how she was making him feel.

  "So what about you?" she asked, again looking at him. "Do you like opera? Plays? The ballet?"

  He knew she expected a negative answer. He wasn't sure he could even talk. "Depends."

  Cocking her head, she frowned. "Are you all right? You sound funny."

  He glanced down at his lap, where the nearness of her hand was driving him crazy. She also looked, and he knew the moment she understood the problem. Jerking back her hand, she began to move away. "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

  He caught her wrist before she could escape. "Don't run off."

  She tried to pull her fingers free from his grasp. "I didn't realize I was—I mean, I don't even like dogs."

  Thor moved, getting up and padding across the room to another throw rug. Cody held on to Bernadette. "Now you've insulted him. Are you going to also insult me and tell me you don't like me?"

  "I—" She hesitated. "Actually, I'm discovering you're a very nice person. It's just that—"

  He understood. "We're too different."

  "Totally."

  "And every time I see you, I want to make love with you."

  "And I—" She stared at him, shaking her head the moment she understood what he'd said. "No, you can't . . . We can't . . . It wouldn't work."

  "Oh, I'm sure we could make love. Considering how you respond to a kiss, I think the parts would work."

  "You know what I mean."

  He knew. Just as he knew he needed to let go of her hand before he did something very foolish.

  She rubbed her fingers over her wrist and stared at him, but she didn't move. Slowly, he reached forward, touching her cheek. She didn't look away, and he slid his fingers along the side of her face, cursing himself but unable to stop.

  Skin as smooth and pale as polished beechnut and warm from the fire met his touch. Wide-eyed, she watched him, her breathing shallow. As shallow as his.

  "Kiss me," he whispered.

  Bernadette knew she had to leave. She had to get away from him. Far, far away.

  Tentatively, she reached out and touched his chest. His shirt was soft, the linen giving beneath her fingertips. Leaning forward, she obeyed his command.

  The blending of his mouth with hers was becoming a familiar experience, and she ran the tip of her tongue over his lips, catching the taste of chocolate. Chocolate was addicting. Cody was addicting.

  His hands on her sides stabilized her, and then she was falling, being carried with him to the thick depth of the rug. A twist and a turn, and he'd molded his body to hers, just as their lips were molded. Molded, yet moving.

  Sensations spiraling through her took her breath away. Control was an illusion she couldn't hang onto, a delusion she shouldn't have trusted. That she liked what was happening scared her. The situation was all wrong.

  The man was wrong.

  "Oh Bernadette." He sighed her name close to her ear, the warmth of the words carrying her deeper into an abyss of pleasure.

  Only a couple hours before, another man's hands had touched her in much the same way that Cody was touching her. Yet nothing about Cody's touch was the same. She wanted to hold on to him, not escape. She wanted more, not less.

  The molten need pouring through her begged for relief, and his hips against hers were hard evidence that he shared her desire. Pins fell from her hair and it flowed around her face, his fingers combing through it. The twisting and turning of their bodies had her dress to her hips, her legs free to wrap around his. Her nipples hardened, then radiated pleasure as his palms stroked across them.

  She heard the groans and knew they were hers. Knew the sighs and the whimpering all came from a wanting she hadn't realized she possessed. A touch, ever so light between her legs, brought a gasp of pleasure. He leaned back, looking down at her.

  His gaze was deep chocolate, tempting her on. His voice was rough whiskey. "Either stop me now, or I'm going to make love with you."

  Chapter Six

  "We have to stop." Bernadette hop
ed she'd said the words aloud. Her entire being was fighting the idea, urging her to go on. "Physically, she wanted Cody. Emotionally, she needed protection. "I—I shouldn't have let things go this far."

  His breathing erratic, Cody laughed at the irony. " 'Things' haven't gone far enough."

  "You know what I mean."

  "We both know."

  Bernadette searched for the control she'd always had in the past. Finding it wasn't easy. Leave, her mind cried. Leave before you're hurt, before he leaves you.

  How many years had she been doing that, protecting herself whenever she started to care?

  Since Parker had left her?

  Probably. Up until then, she'd still had hope that no matter how many times her father left, she wasn't the one at fault. Now being the first one to end a relationship was a way of life for her. Her sister even made jokes about it. And maybe Effie was right. Maybe she was always looking for a flaw in the men she dated. Why not find their flaws before they discovered hers?

  Slowly she drew away. Cody said nothing, but his eyes held a plea. She looked to the side, afraid she might give in.

  Normally she wouldn't object to the idea of making love. Not that she jumped into bed with every man who asked, but she wasn't a virgin, and Cody wasn't a complete stranger. Normally she'd look at a night of love-making as a way to ease the tensions. With the right man, sex wasn't bad. It was one more aspect in a relationship that she could control.

  Tonight, though, that wasn't true. Kissing Cody, lying with him in front of his fireplace, had been a volatile experience, explosive, and uncontrollable. Kissing had led to wanting more, and she certainly wasn't relaxed. She rose to her feet, her entire body wound tight as a spring.

  "Thank you for showing me around." She straightened her dress, barely glancing his way. He'd pushed himself up to a sitting position, and his gaze was on her, but he said nothing, his silence worse than words.

  "And thanks for the hot chocolate." She'd barely touched hers, but she wasn't going to stay to finish it.

  Her hand shaking, she reached for her purse. Cody's fingers touched hers, and the knot in her stomach tightened, her breath catching in her lungs.

  "I'll walk you to your car," he said, and stood.

  From the fireplace to the front door neither said a word. What more could be said? Bernadette wondered. She did thank him when he helped her on with her coat, and she repeated that she like his "shack." Thor came out with them, trotting off on his own. At her car Cody opened her door, brushed a kiss across her forehead, and said good night. There were no more requests for her to stay, yet she knew he was asking. Even after her car door was closed and he stepped back, she saw the question in his eyes.

  Bernadette drove off like a thief fleeing the scene of a crime, and for the rest of the weekend she kept waiting for Cody to show up. Her fear wasn't of him, but of what she might do. She'd said no, had asked him to stop, but could she do it again?

  * * *

  By Monday, Bernadette felt she had her life back under control. Cody hadn't called or come to see her, and she'd made a series of resolutions. First and foremost, she wouldn't see him again. Second, if by chance she did see him, she wouldn't kiss him. She knew enough not to play with fire. And third, she was going to start getting out more.

  In Chicago she'd dated many men. Since moving to Grand Rapids, however, she hadn't had time. She hadn't thought it was a problem, but it was the only answer she could come up with as to why she was attracted to a man so clearly wrong for her.

  Monday also gave her other things to think about. She had weekly reports from the department managers to review and a planning meeting to attend. Advertising copy had to be okayed, inventory and accounting sheets analyzed, and contractors called. Getting the renovations started was taking longer than she'd expected.

  By mid-afternoon it was Morgan's Department Stores, not Cody Taylor, that dominated her thoughts. That was, until Anne Closson knocked on her open door, a smile on her face. "You have a package."

  Bernadette looked up from the papers on her desk. "A package?"

  Still smiling, Anne entered Bern's office. "It arrived in an interesting way. Sherri in Cosmetics said she got it from her boyfriend, who got it from his boss, who said you left something at his place Friday night that he wanted to return."

  Cody, Bernadette thought, but said nothing. Cautiously she took the package from Anne. The box was roughly the size of a shirt box, but as far as she knew, she hadn't left any clothing at Cody's. Her dress had stayed on, though just barely. Besides, whatever was in the box weighed more than a shirt or a dress.

  She gave it a shake.

  Anne stood where she was, watching. Bernadette shrugged. Shaking the box had given no clue to its contents, and she had no intention of opening the package in front of Anne. Maybe the woman was old enough to be her mother and had been a tremendous help in supplying information about the day-to-day management of Morgan's, but Bernadette wasn't about to tell her where she'd been Friday night . . . or what she'd done. She merely gave a nod. "Thank you."

  A lift of her eyebrows expressed Anne's unspoken question, and she didn't move. Bern set the package on her desk. "I'll open it later."

  She looked back down at the columns of figures in the report on her desk, trying to sound busy and distracted. "When you go out, could you close the door, please. I've got to get through these accounting figures before two."

  "Certainly." Anne's formal tone of voice expressed her disappointment. She left, pulling the door closed behind her. As soon as Bernadette was sure it was safe, she reached for the package.

  The crumpled newspapers inside the box had kept things from moving around. The paper surrounded a letter, the snapshot of her father that she'd shown Cody, and a box of Godiva chocolates.

  I love Godiva chocolates, she remembered saying. He'd sent her some.

  He'd sent her candy, returned her picture, and what else? A love letter?

  Cautiously she unfolded the sheet of paper. Opened, the letter revealed a ticket to a ballet performance that was being held Friday night.

  Bern frowned and read the letter, which had been written with a hurried scrawl.

  She was still frowning when she crunched the paper into a ball and tossed it into her wastebasket. It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd done a lot of thinking over the weekend. She'd decided not to see him again. He'd decided to fly out to California to visit his sister's grave. It would be a quick visit, according to his note. He'd be back Friday. In time for the ballet. See you there, he'd written.

  The man was out of his mind.

  She stared at the single ticket and shook her head. Although she would love to see the performance, and the seat was excellent—orchestra, third row center—she certainly wasn't going to meet him there. Nor was she about to accept gifts from him, especially a gift of candy.

  The picture of her father went back into her purse, and she carried the ticket and box of chocolates out of her office. Anne was at her desk, and Loren was talking to her. Bernadette knew immediately what she was going to do. "I have something for each of you," she said as she approached the two. "You like chocolates, don't you?" She handed the box to Anne. "And how would you like a ticket to the ballet?" she asked Loren.

  He cocked an eyebrow, and she smiled, picturing Cody's reaction Friday night. "It's only one ticket," she said. "There will be a man joining you." Her smile grew wider. "I met him last week, and I think you'll like him. You'll recognize him right away. He has brown hair, chestnut colored, that waves a little and hangs to his collar, and earrings—three of them. Hoops. And he always wears a gold chain around his neck. He's a bit unconventional."

  "Unconventional?" Loren repeated, the eyebrow rising higher.

  "That's what I said." She'd let him interpret the word any way he liked.

  "And you were going to go out with him?"

  "No." She shook her head, grinning. "He's not my type."

  * * *

  Friday night, as
the hour neared eight, Bernadette wished she could see what was going on at DeVos Hall. What would happen when Loren sat down next to Cody? Loren wasn't shy, nor was he hesitant to let others know his sexual preferences.

  Things could get interesting.

  All evening Bernadette kept watching the clock. She made sure her lights were out and her door locked by ten-thirty, when she figured the ballet would be over. If Cody came by, he would think she was out or asleep. If he knocked, she wouldn't go to the door. When he called—and she was sure he would—she would tell him she didn't want to see him.

  It was the only way to handle the situation. To be in the same room with him was too dangerous. He had a way of making her forget the tidy plans she'd made for her life.

  * * *

  Saturday morning Bern woke with an uneasy feeling. Cody hadn't called. It had been after midnight before she'd dropped off to sleep, and even then, it hadn't been a good, deep sleep. Every sound in her apartment had been magnified, every creak an imagined step in the hallway. Though her windows had been closed against the winter cold, she'd heard car doors opening and closing, and each time, her breath had caught in her throat as she'd waited for Cody to arrive at her door.

  In a way, his absence was a disappointment. "Why can't you act like other men?" she grumbled, as she pulled on her coat.

  Mopsy danced at her feet, and Bernadette grumbled again. She never should have promised to take care of her sister's dog for six weeks. Oh, Mopsy was cute, and it was nice to have a dog around at night, but Mopsy wanted to go out at the most inconvenient times. It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning, but the way Mopsy was whining and prancing, Bernadette knew if she took time to put on her makeup or pull her hair back into a twist, she was going to be changing papers again. Of course, by her standards, she was going out half-dressed.

  Her only consolation was that none of her neighbors ever got up this early on Saturdays, so there was little chance she'd run into anyone. A hat on her head and gloves on her hands, she took Mopsy out and waited in front of the apartment building as the dog sniffed one patch of grass after another. "Come on," she finally begged, the cold air getting to her. "For someone who had to get out here right away, you're taking long enough."