pleasurable business trip.”
Sloan managed not to blush again. With the hint of an enticing smile on her own lips, she inclined her head ever so slightly. Touché. He had learned to be a charmer when he chose.
From that point the night passed with surprising swiftness. Wesley, whom she had once found so boringly dull, proved to be an interesting speaker. His voice was a low tenor which still penetrated the room when he spoke, his words so appealingly phrased that Sloan was later shocked to realize she had listened to information on horses and football without once wandering from the conversation. It was after midnight when George finally looked at his watch and groaned that they had to leave.
“I’m sure New York has either been long consumed or saved by now,” he said dryly, “and that my mother probably has her eyes propped open with toothpicks. How long will you be here, Wes?”
“A couple of weeks,” Wesley replied, rising to shake his old friend’s hand. “I’m sure we’ll be able to get together again.” He kissed Cassie lightly and took Sloan’s hand. “Thank you, Sloan, for a pleasant evening.”
“Thank you for coming,” she parroted politely.
“Perhaps, if we have dinner one night, you’ll join us.”
Sloan wasn’t sure if the invitation was sincere or not. She was being scrutinized by those uncanny eyes again, and the firm hand holding hers was mocking in its gentle but undeniable pressure. She smiled vaguely. “Yes, perhaps. But I have a problem with the children.”
“I’m her only nighttime sitter,” Cassie explained. “George’s mother is too nervous to handle all five.”
“That’s no problem!” Wesley laughed, and for a moment his eyes seemed very warm and tender. “My housekeeper is with me, since I’m staying at my folks’ home. They’ve been in Arizona for years now, so I assumed I’d need a bit of help with fixing up. Florence adores children. She’ll be thrilled to watch them for us.”
“I...” Sloan faltered helplessly. She didn’t want to tell him that she didn’t leave her children with just anyone—it would sound frightfully insulting.
But Wesley astutely sensed her dilemma. “I’ll bring Florence by at your convenience so that you can meet her and she can meet the children. Then, if all goes well, we’ll make a definite date for Saturday night, a week from tomorrow. Does that suit everyone?”
A little awed, Sloan nodded. It didn’t just suit her, it sounded lovely. One of the reasons that she so seldom went out was the lack of available, trustworthy baby-sitters and a determination not to take advantage of her sister. She would also have trouble affording a regular sitter. “Loaded” Wesley was solving all her problems.
Wesley released her hand. George and Cassie kissed her goodnight, and she was alone in her silent house with her sleeping children.
She was reflective that night as she showered and donned a light flannel gown, studying her face in the bathroom mirror. She winced at what she saw.
Although faint, tiny lines were forming around her eyes. Unlike Cassie, she certainly couldn’t pass for eighteen. At least, she thought, giggling at her mirrored image, if she were to go prematurely gray, no one would notice. Her hair was already composed of too many colors.
Anyway, the hell with vanity. She was the mother of three. Still...her hand slid over her flat stomach. She was lucky. She had borne three children, yet come out of it without a scratch. Her figure was tighter than that of a teenager, her skin as smooth. Dancing, she told herself wryly. Her passion had kept her in shape.
But what difference did it make. There was no longer a man in her bedroom to tell her she was beautiful, to tell her what he loved about her...No one to try to please...
Sloan snapped out the light and peeked in on six-year-old Jamie, four-year-old Laura, and two-year-old “baby” Terry. They all slept soundly, their even breathing peaceful. Unable to resist, she tenderly kissed each little forehead. They were beautiful children, plump and healthy. Again, she reminded herself that she was lucky, and that she should be grateful and fulfilled.
I am fulfilled! she told herself sternly. There is nothing more I need than their love.
But she didn’t sleep well that night. She was plagued by dreams of worry and emptiness.
Sloan pressed her hand over the mouthpiece of the telephone. “Jamie!” she wailed. “Quit torturing your sister! Give her back her doll! And hush up for five minutes!”
Jamie pursed his little lips, shot his mother a baleful glance, and