Reckless Moon Read online

  “Such response,” he murmured, his lips against her neck. “You turn to me like a flower seeking the sun.”

  Beth swayed in his arms as the room spun around her.

  “Don’t fight it,” Bram urged, his mouth creating a stream of heat all along her throat. “Give in. Give in to what you feel for me.”

  “I can’t,” Beth moaned, and at the same instant she heard Jason’s voice behind them.

  “Check in the rest room,” he was saying to someone with him. “She should have returned by now.”

  Beth pulled away from Bram. “I have to get back,” she said breathlessly. “Jason is looking for me.”

  “Let him look,” Bram replied, reaching for her again.

  “No,” Beth said firmly, backing up to the wall. “It isn’t fair. I’m his date, and I’m out here with you...”

  “Where you prefer to be,” Bram finished for her.

  “Get out of my way,” Beth ordered.

  Bram folded his arms, unmoving.

  “I mean it,” Beth said implacably.

  “Oh, all right,” Bram said furiously. “Run away. Go back to your dim, safe boyfriend and pretend that he’s me.”

  Beth stared back at him, her lower lip trembling.

  “I said go!” Bram repeated, his angry face belying his low tone. “Run away like a scared little mouse and hide from your feelings.”

  “How dare you say that to me?” Beth demanded, fighting back the threat of tears. “You’ve been hiding from your feelings all your life.”

  Bram’s eyes widened incredulously. “What?”

  “You heard me. You couldn’t face what you felt for me the first night we were together so you headed off in the other direction as far as you could get. You bolted for the merchant marine rather than deal with the responsibility of a relationship with a young and innocent girl. You’re the coward, Bram, not me.”

  Bram’s face became as hard as granite, his gaze unflinching.

  “I needed you to love me,” Beth continued unsteadily, “but you turned your back because it was easier and safer. But that’s part of your pattern, isn’t it? You did the same thing to your father. He needed you, his only son, to stay with him and help him, but you left him when you had some petty disagreements with his wife. He’s sick now, and I don’t doubt that your abandonment of a lonely old man had a lot to do with that. Do you blame yourself? You should. Don’t lecture me about running away, Bram Curtis; you’re a master at it.”

  Bram had gone pale beneath his tan, and his hands were balled into fists at his sides. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he said between his teeth.

  Beth squared her shoulders. “I think I do,” she said quietly. “Despite your macho seafarer act, you’re the least courageous person I know. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to my escort.” She brushed past Bram as he remained rooted to the ground.

  Jason saw her in the doorway of the room and hurried over to greet her. “I’ve got everybody looking for you,” he said. “Where did you go?”

  “I’m not feeling very well,” Beth answered. It was the truth. “Do we have to stay for dessert? I think I’d rather go home, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” Jason said, in an understanding tone that only made Beth feel worse. “Just wait here. I’ll make our excuses and get your shawl.”

  It seemed an eternity before he returned, but it was only a few minutes. Bram seemed to have vanished; Beth didn’t see him anywhere as they made their way outside and the attendant brought Jason’s car.

  Beth was silent during the trip back to her house, leaning her head back against the rest, emotionally drained. Jason sensed her mood and didn’t press to come in with her; he walked her to the door and then said good night, adding that he would call her during the week.

  Beth let herself in and walked slowly to the kitchen, running the water in the sink, and then filling a large tumbler and drinking it down. The scene with Bram had been terrible, and she also felt that she had taken advantage of Jason in some vague, undefined way. All in all, it had been a horrible evening, and she wanted only to get into bed and block it all out through the oblivion of sleep.

  Marion’s door opened as Beth walked past it. She emerged in a cotton nightgown, pushing her hair out of her eyes.

  “How did it go?” she asked.

  “Not well,” Beth sighed, taking off the shawl she was wearing and handing it to her sister. “Not well at all.”

  Marion yawned. “What happened?”

  “I had a fight with Bram.”

  Marion rolled her eyes. “Now how did I know you were going to say that? I must be psychic.”

  “Unzip me, please,” Beth said. “I can’t wait to get out of this dress.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Marion asked, obeying.

  “No. That won’t change anything.”

  Marion nodded. “Good. My alarm is set for four A.M.; I have to drive down to Oceanside to pick Jerry up at seven. If I don’t get back to bed and start stacking some Zs I’m going to be a zombie when that buzzer goes off.”

  Beth stepped out of the gown and draped it over Marion’s arm. “Thanks for the dress.”

  Marion’s door closed soundlessly as Beth entered her room in her full length slip and high-heeled pumps. She took off the shoes and stretched out on her bed, not even bothering to undress any further. Feeling exhausted and defeated, she hugged a pillow to her chest and closed her eyes.

  In minutes she was asleep.

  * * *

  Beth was awakened by the sound of a distant telephone ringing. She sat up in the dark, confused, listening. Where was it coming from? She had an extension of the house phone in her room, but the instrument on her night table was silent. The ringing came again, insistent, demanding. Beth slid off the bed and made for the door. It was her office telephone on the first floor. By the time she reached the landing she was running.

  The grandfather clock in the hall read 3A.M. Who would be calling on her office phone at this hour? Alarmed, Beth dashed through the door of the office and seized the receiver of the desk telephone.

  “Hello?” she said breathlessly.

  “Hello?” came from the other end.

  “Yes? May I help you?”

  “Yeah, well, maybe I have the wrong number. I’m trying to reach an attorney, B. F. Forsyth.” The voice was male and querulous.

  “This is she.”

  There was a moment of stunned silence. Then, “Oh. I didn’t realize you were a lady.”

  “Is there something I can do for you?” Beth said impatiently. Why was this clown telephoning her in the middle of the night?

  “Yeah, there is, ma’am. I got a client of yours down here in the tank. He had your card in his wallet when we took his personal effects. I thought I would be getting your service at this hour, but since I’m talking right to you, maybe you can tell me what to do.”

  “Who is it?” Beth asked. But she knew.

  “Abraham Curtis. His daddy is some big deal grower out in the valley. I booked him on a D&D.”

  Drunk and disorderly, Beth thought. Wonderful. “Who are you?” Beth asked.

  “Oh, didn’t I say?” the man responded, and then chuckled at his own eccentricity. “This is Sergeant Canning of the Enfield police. We picked your boy up during a disturbance at the Kit-Kat Club. He wouldn’t let me call anybody, but when I found your card I thought I’d take a chance.” The sergeant lowered his voice. “He really doesn’t belong here, miss, in with all the drunks, dressed in evening clothes like he is. And beat up some, too; he really should see a doctor.”

  Beth closed her eyes briefly, then opened them. “Will he be arraigned in the morning?”

  “Yeah, but he can go home now if you’ll vouch for him. It’ll be just the standard deal. He doesn’t have to spend the night if you can make bail.”

  “What is it?”

  “The set fine, five hundred dollars.”

  Beth didn’t have fi
ve hundred dollars in cash in the house. But she knew a bondsman who was open twenty-four hours a day, and she calculated the time it would take her to get to Hartford, and then to Enfield.

  “I’ll be there in an hour,” she said shortly, and hung up.

  Marion was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase, her elbows on her knees.

  “I woke you again. I’m sorry,” Beth said.

  Marion turned her palms up. “Who could sleep in this house? What’s going on?”

  “Bram is in jail in Enfield. I have to drive over there and bail him out.”

  Marion exhaled slowly. “That guy will never change.”

  “Maybe so,” Beth replied, sidestepping her sister and heading up the stairs. “But the cop said he’d been in a fight. I can’t just leave him there overnight if he’s hurt.”

  Marion looked up the stairwell after her. “Are you sure you should get mixed up in this?”

  “I’m a lawyer, Marion. I’m just bailing a client out of jail.”

  “Huh,” Marion said expressively.

  Beth got a pair of jeans and a shirt from her closet and took them out into the hall, changing as she talked.

  “I think maybe this is my fault,” she went on quietly. “I said some awful things to him tonight, and I know I upset him.”

  “So he gets into a dustup because you hurt his feelings. That’s very mature.”

  “I didn’t say it was mature. But it’s typical of Bram.” Beth took her purse and keys from the hall table and hurried down the stairs.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be all right. Go back to bed,” she said to Marion.

  Marion made an exasperated face. “The alarm will be going off in half an hour; I might as well just hit the road. I’ll be back home around noon if you want to talk.”

  Beth nodded and waved, sprinting out the door.

  Five minutes later she was on the highway, heading for Hartford.

  CHAPTER 6

  Don’t you have one of those little plastic cards that you stick into a machine and get money?” the bondsman asked. “My night business is down incredibly since they came out.”

  “If I had one of those cards would I be standing here at three-forty in the morning talking to you?” Beth asked.

  “Touchy,” the man groused. “What are you so worked up about? Five hundred bucks, the charge can’t be much. What was your client doing, growing pot in the basement under a plant light?”

  “Drunk and disorderly,” Beth said shortly.

  “Ah. Turned out a bar, huh?”

  “Something like that. Could you make it snappy, please, I’m in a hurry.”

  The bondsman signed the note and slipped it into an envelope, handing both to her. “Lady, next time I get arrested I’m calling you. You do fast work.”

  Beth smiled weakly, backing out of the door. “Thanks a lot. Good night.” She was back out on the street in seconds, gunning the motor of her car toward I91 and Enfield.

  The jail was dark except for a single light burning above the door. Beth went inside and discovered Sergeant Canning sitting at the information desk. His name tag was pinned to his uniform blouse.

  “I’m Miss Forsyth,” she announced to him. “Mr. Curtis’s attorney.”

  The sergeant glanced at her jeans and sneakers. “You don’t say.”

  “Yes, we spoke earlier on the phone. You called me about Abraham Curtis.” She handed him the envelope. “Here’s his bail.”

  He nodded, impressed. “That was quick.” He removed an accordion folder from a drawer and handed it to her. “These are his personal effects, a wallet, a watch, and some money.” He flicked the switch on an intercom at his elbow. “Rafferty, bring up Curtis. He’s walking.”

  Beth shifted nervously.

  “Got some ID?” Canning said to her.

  Beth showed him her Bar Association card.

  “Looks like the ink on it is still wet,” Canning observed. “Where did you go to school?”

  “Western New England, in Massachusetts.”

  Canning scratched his graying head. “I got a nephew at U Conn Law School. Wants to do taxes.”

  “That’s very lucrative,” Beth said, wondering how long this would take.

  “Eh?” Canning said.

  “You can make a lot of money doing that,” Beth translated.

  “Yeah. And you don’t have to spend your sleeping time bailing losers out of the clink,” Canning replied.

  On that note Bram arrived, escorted by a uniformed policeman. Bram was minus his tux jacket, and his shirt was ripped and filthy. There was a large scratch on his cheek, one eye was bruising, and he had what appeared to be a deep cut on his left bicep, bound with a handkerchief. He froze when he saw Beth.

  “What’s she doing here?” he growled to Canning.

  “You’re welcome,” Beth said sourly.

  Canning looked from one to the other, puzzled. “Isn’t this your lawyer?” he asked Bram.

  “I’m beginning to feel like his mother,” Beth said. She surveyed Bram from head to foot. “Look at you; you’re a mess. When are you going to grow up?”

  “Never,” he replied shortly. “I’m Peter Pan.”

  Beth glanced at Canning. “Is he free to go?” she asked him.

  Canning produced a pen and a triplicate voucher. “Just sign for your valuables right here, Mr. Curtis.”

  Bram scribbled his name, saying to Canning, “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed my stay in your luxurious accommodations.”

  “We aim to please,” Canning replied, unruffled. He took his pen back and pointed it at Beth. “I’d treat this little lady right, if I were you,” he added. “I called her an hour ago and she dropped everything to get here and spring your ungrateful carcass.”

  Beth lowered her eyes. Bram said nothing.

  “Get out of here,” Canning said. “Your hearing is 10 A.M., October fifteenth.”

  Silence reigned as they walked to Beth’s car. Bram broke it as she unlocked her door.

  “I’ll drive,” he said.

  “You will not. You’re in no condition to take the wheel.”

  She expected an argument, but Bram had apparently had enough conflict for one night. He walked around and got in on the passenger side, doubling up his long legs in the cramped space of the sports car.

  Beth slid in next to him, starting the engine. “Your arm looks bad,” she said. “We should have it checked out.” She snapped her fingers. “I know. Just the job for Dr. Redhead. Or is her practice confined to ankles?”

  “Give it a rest, mouse,” Bram said wearily.

  “How come she wasn’t arrested with you? She’ll be disappointed that she missed all the excitement.”

  “I took her home before I...”

  “Got bombed and tore up the Knick-Knack Club?” Beth suggested.

  “Kit-Kat Club,” Bram corrected.

  “A rose by any other name.” Beth downshifted for the entry ramp to the highway. “Call me foolish, call me curious, but might I know what you were doing there? Is that the sort of place you usually hang out?”

  “I wanted to get drunk.”

  “You accomplished your goal.”

  “I didn’t feel like sitting home alone and thinking about what you had said to me, okay?”

  “Then why didn’t you occupy yourself with Dr. Redhead?”

  “Her name is Reynolds.”

  “I don’t care what her name is!” Beth yelled. “Or why didn’t you call gorgeous Gloria? I’m sure she’d be willing at all hours. Or that radio station manager. Does she work the night shift?”

  Bram’s head turned toward her, and even in the darkness she could see the narrowing of his eyes.

  “Have you been keeping tabs on me?” he asked.

  “Word gets around,” Beth answered, uncomfortable.

  Bram nodded, as if confirming something to himself. “Melinda Sue Bigmouth,” he said. “Otherwise known as the Voice of America.”

  “Well, you haven’t
exactly been conducting your affairs in a closet,” Beth said defensively. “Of course people are going to talk.”

  She could feel his gaze on her face. “I wouldn’t have a minute for any of them if you’d give me half a chance,” he said quietly.

  Beth’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “You know it’s true,” Bram added. “But you’ve made it clear that you wouldn’t have me if I came gift wrapped. So what am I supposed to do? Enter a monastery?”

  Beth kept her eyes on the road, not answering.

  Bram looked out the window, throwing his strong profile into sharp relief as they passed a streetlight. “Bethany, I don’t understand you. You want me so much you tremble like a leaf in the wind every time I touch you. You care about me, or you wouldn’t have come out at this hour when you heard I was in trouble. Why won’t you give us what we both need?”

  “You know why,” she whispered, still not looking at him.

  “Oh, yes,” he said in a resolute tone. “Love, or the lack of it. Wonderful love, which makes the world go round, the last best hope of the human race.” He gestured dismissively. “It’s overrated.”

  “How do you know? Have you ever been in love?”

  “I’ve seen the behavior of people who said they were in love, and believe me, that was enough.” His tone became cynical. “Take my father, for example. A strong, intelligent, capable man. Until he fell in love with darling Anabel. His brains, his strength, his entire constitution went out the window. He became a stupid, fawning weakling, and all for a woman who...” he stopped abruptly.

  “A woman who...?” Beth prodded.

  But Bram was too quick for her. “Never mind,” he answered. “Suffice it to say that I can do without an emotion that can transform me into what he became.”

  “So you’ve got it all figured out, have you?” Beth asked.

  “I think so.”

  “If you let yourself love anybody, it will diminish you and make you putty in that person’s hands?”

  His silence was confirmation.

  “Then I feel sorry for you,” Beth concluded. “You’re going to be alone all your life.”