Shadow of Love Read online

  Shadow of Love

  By

  Sondra Stanford

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  A Strange Expression Darkened Rod's Eyes As He Strode Toward Leslie.

  "Your skin is like silk," he said in a strangely thick voice, touching her cheek.

  Leslie struggled in Rod's grasp as his face came closer and his lips met hers. For a moment she resisted, but his lips forced hers to part and soon all conscious thoughts were crowded out of her mind. His mouth became more demanding and his touch made her weak.

  Then she went suddenly cold as he pushed her away.

  "I'm sorry," he said curtly. "That wasn't part of our deal. After all, I want no emotional complications—especially with you!"

  SONDRA STANFORD fell in love with the written word as soon as she could read one, at the age of six. However, besides her writing ability, she is also a gifted painter and it was a "struggle to decide which talent would dominate." Fortunately for all her Silhouette readers, the written word triumphed!

  Dear Reader:

  Silhouette Romances is an exciting new publishing venture. We will be presenting the very finest writers of contemporary romantic fiction as well as outstanding new talent in this field. It is our hope that our stories, our heroes and our heroines will give you, the reader, all you want from romantic fiction.

  Also, you play an important part in our future plans for Silhouette Romances. We welcome any suggestions or comments on our books and I invite you to write to us at the address below.

  So, enjoy this book and all the wonderful romances from Silhouette. They're for you!

  Karen Solem

  Editor-in-Chief

  Silhouette Books

  P. O. Box 769

  New York, N.Y. 10019

  Copyright © 1980 by Sondra Stanford

  ISBN: 0-671-57025-0

  First Silhouette printing August, 1980

  For Rhonda and Denise

  Chapter One

  Muted strains of music and low-keyed conversation filled the large dining room of the Castle Hotel; candles flickered in the center of each white-covered table as red-coated waiters went silently and efficiently about their duties.

  "Would you care for dessert, Miss Foster?"

  Leslie Foster glanced up, smiled at the deferential and unaccustomed formality, and shook her head. "No thank you, Andy, but I would like some coffee. And give my compliments to Claude, please. The pheasant was delicious."

  Andy nodded, then turned his attention to Leslie's companion. "And you, sir? Would you like dessert?"

  "Just coffee," Joel said impatiently, as though he were eager to be rid of the waiter. His eyes sought Leslie's and, as soon as Andy had gone, he reached across the table for her hand. "You're incredibly beautiful tonight," he whispered in a husky voice. "I like your hair down like that and your dress…" His meaning hung there in the air between them, quite unmistakable.

  Leslie lowered her thick eyelashes to shield her eyes. Joel's admiration was at once thrilling and embarrassing. Her long, silky dark hair, usually severely constrained close to her head, swished unfamiliarly against her neck and shoulders as she glanced down self-consciously at the dress Patsy had convinced her to buy. It was off-white, with demure long sleeves and a long skirt, but the V neckline plunged dangerously low between her breasts. She had never worn anything so daring in her life and she felt half-naked in it. Now, beneath Joel's gaze, her skin felt hot and prickly.

  "I love you," Joel whispered urgently.

  The lashes swept upward and Leslie forgot the dress as warm emotion flooded through her. She was hearing those incredible, wonderful words at last! "Oh, Joel, I love you, too," she whispered shakily.

  Joel's lips softened and he squeezed her hand. "Darling, I had hoped you'd feel the same! I only wish I could kiss you right now!"

  Color stained Leslie's cheeks, but before she could respond, Andy returned with their coffee. Joel released her hand and the room, which had receded during their exchange, swam back into focus.

  Leslie was so happy she felt like singing. So this was what it meant to be in love. She closed her eyes as though to hold on to it better, afraid even yet to fully believe in what was happening.

  But when she opened her eyes Joel was still sitting there across the table, smiling at her in a way that caused her heart to skip a beat. He is the most handsome man in this room, Leslie thought with pride. His dark evening suit contrasted most effectively with his blond wavy hair and light complexion. As he lit a cigarette, she noticed that his hands were not quite steady. Their newly acknowledged love was affecting him as strongly as it was her.

  She had met Joel Maddox only six short weeks ago. In retrospect, it seemed much longer, even though in actual fact this was only the sixth time in as many weeks that they had been together for an entire evening. Leslie supposed it seemed longer because they had utilized those few evenings together in really getting to know about one another. Joel was the first man she had ever dated who had seemed to truly want to know all about her, and under his avid interest she had expanded like a flower blossoming beneath the warm spring sun. There could not be many things about her twenty-two years that Joel did not know by now, she mused, and though she did not know quite as much about his life, perhaps, she did know the important things, the things that mattered if you loved someone.

  Joel was a sales representative for a manufacturing firm based in Los Angeles and he traveled much of the time. Once a week he came to San Francisco for a day and a night and always stayed at the Castle. He was twenty-seven and he hoped to someday own his own business; in the meantime he was ambitious to be the best salesman with his firm. Joel had charm and a smooth gift of gab that she could not help but envy. He was an open, easygoing man, and Leslie admired such unaffected self-confidence. Her own nature was far more reserved, and it seemed a miracle of major proportions that Joel should have fallen in love with her.

  "I've got a confession to make," Joel said now, interrupting her thoughts. "Remember that first day when I accidentally bumped into you in the lobby?"

  Leslie nodded.

  There was a teasing light in Joel's eyes. "It wasn't," he told her in an ominous voice, "an accident as you had supposed."

  "No?" Leslie lifted her eyebrows and her lips parted in a smile.

  "No indeed." Joel was laughing now and his boyish grin sent a thrill of tenderness through Leslie. "I staged it deliberately. I had seen you the week before, and when I saw you again I knew I had to meet you. I asked a few questions and then I stationed myself in the lobby at a time I thought you'd be coming through."

  "Then you already knew who I was?"

  "Yes. I had asked the desk clerk."

  "No wonder Pete was grinning so secretively when you asked him to formally introduce us!" Leslie exclaimed with mock indignation.

  Joel's hand covered hers again and he murmured, "Well, I could tell you weren't the type to take up with strangers, so I had to arrange for somebody to introduce us. You're not angry with me, are you?"

  Leslie shook her head. "Of course not. I'm just… glad we did meet."

  "So am I," he said softly. "Leslie, I… there's something important I want to say to you, to ask you, but I can hardly do it here. It's far too public, and if I take you back to your apartment there'll be that roommate of yours. Will you…" He paused, hesitating before he added, "will you come upstairs to my room with me? Just for a short while?"

  Now it was Leslie's turn to hesitate. If one of the hotel staff were to
see her going into a man's room, it would be difficult to explain, but, on the other hand, Joel was right—it was the only place where they could possibly have total privacy. Her heart thudded at the adoring, almost pleading expression in his eyes, and she knew she could not refuse. Slowly, she nodded.

  Joel's hand rested lightly against her back as they crossed the room. Now that she was on her feet, Leslie was again excruciatingly conscious of the low cut of her dress. Moreover, she felt eyes on her, and she glanced around nervously in an effort to discover the source.

  To her left, at a small, intimate table for two set in a palm-shrouded alcove, she found it. Rod Castle was there with a stunning blonde, but unfortunately just now he was watching Leslie rather than his dinner partner. His steel-blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her. His gaze took in the cloud of hair that fell freely around her face and then the gaze moved down, deliberately taking in every detail of her dress and the bare expanse of skin between her breasts. Darn Patsy anyway, for talking her into buying such a revealing dress. "Get with it," Patsy had urged when Leslie had confided that Joel had told her this was to be a very special evening. "Wear this dress and you'll knock his eyes out." Well, it had worked all right, Leslie thought grimly, but the plan had not included knocking her boss's eyes out, too. But then, how could she have known that Joel would be bringing her here to the hotel for dinner? He never had before tonight.

  Leslie turned sharply away from the penetrating blue eyes that registered both surprise and disapproval. It was none of Rod Castle's business what she wore on her own time, she told herself, or where she spent her evenings. After all, the hotel restaurant was a public place, and she had as much right to come here as any of the other patrons.

  She was relieved once they were out of the restaurant. Behind the lobby was a secluded corridor where the elevators were located and Leslie walked swiftly toward it. No one except the two of them was in the corridor, she was glad to see, and she stepped quickly inside the elevator as soon as the doors slid open.

  Once in his room, Joel pulled her gently into his arms, and the smile he gave her made Leslie totally forget her surroundings as well as her employer and fellow employees. "I've been waiting all evening to get you alone like this," he said softly, just before his lips claimed hers.

  After a moment, Joel lifted his head and, taking her by the hand, led her toward the bed. "We'll be more comfortable if we sit here," he explained, with faint apology in his manner. "There's nowhere else to sit except a chair, and I would have a terrible time kissing you properly there." He laughed as her cheeks reddened. "You blush so beautifully, Leslie. I didn't know girls in this day and age could do that." As Leslie sank to the edge of the bed, he took off his jacket and threw it across a chair. He sat down beside her and gathered her hands between his. "I feel like I'm the luckiest man alive tonight to have won your love," he whispered huskily. "You do love me?" There was a tinge of anxiety in his voice.

  "I wouldn't lie about a thing like that," she reproached him.

  "Of course not," he agreed. But there was a tiny pucker of a frown between his brows, as though he was still in some doubt, and then his face cleared and Leslie was rewarded by a dazzling smile that snatched her breath away. "My little sweetheart," Joel murmured as he pulled her into the circle of his arms again.

  This time Leslie's lips parted in complete surrender as his mouth sought and found hers. His arms tightened around her as the kiss became something quite different from any they had previously shared. Gentleness changed to growing passion and then to greedy hunger. Joel pulled away for a moment and Leslie watched, bemused, as he tugged at his tie, threw it toward the floor, and opened the top button of his shirt. As his mouth possessed hers once more, she responded eagerly to his every touch, and even when he pressed her back against the pillows she did not object.

  She felt his hands slide inside her dress, caressing her bare skin just above her breast, and the dress slid away from her shoulder, down across her forearm. She moved her lips beneath his in protest but he took his mouth from hers long enough to say thickly, "I'm not going to hurt you, darling, or do anything you don't want. Just let me touch you." His lips trailed down to her bare shoulder and made butterfly kisses there and over her throat, then back to her shoulder, sending shivers of exquisite new sensations through Leslie.

  The mood was shattered by an abrupt noise and a bright flash of light. Dazed, Leslie pushed her hand against Joel's chest and she was vaguely surprised that it was bare. She could feel the coarse texture of hair against her fingers. But at the moment that did not command her attention. She stared beyond his shoulder at the strange man who loomed above them with a camera masking his face.

  The light flashed again, momentarily blinding Leslie, and she blinked. "Joel?" Her voice cracked.

  Joel pulled slightly away from her, leaving her body chilled as his head turned toward the intruder. "What the devil?" he growled.

  The light flashed once more; Joel released Leslie and struggled to his feet, but before he could get up the man had already crossed the room and vanished through the door.

  Joel followed but came back a minute later as Leslie, on her feet now, too, was tugging her dress back into position and pushing her hair away from her face. "Who was he?" Her voice was shaking as much as her hands. "What… what was it all about?"

  Joel shook his head, his face grim. "I have no idea, but he seems to have disappeared. I suppose he's hiding in one of the other rooms on this floor. Look, I'd better get you downstairs and into a cab. I don't like this."

  "But… shouldn't we do something about him?"

  Joel frowned and it marred his handsome features. "Like what?"

  Leslie spread out her hands with an uncertain gesture. "I don't know, but we can't just… just let it go, can we? Maybe we should tell Carl Davis, the hotel manager." She moved toward the telephone. "We can give him a description of the man and they can be on the lookout downstairs. Did you see him clearly? I think he was about six feet and…"

  Joel was across the room in two strides and his hand halted hers as it rested on the telephone receiver. "Don't do it, Leslie." When she looked up at him in surprise, he added hurriedly, "Think about this, sweetheart. If you go rushing to tell the manager, it'll be all over the hotel that you were here in my room."

  His meaning sank in clearly and Leslie snatched her hand away from the telephone. "But, then, what can we do?" she asked. "Whoever that man was, he got pictures of us, Joel, and…" Her voice broke and she could not go on.

  Joel wrapped his arms around her. "Look, he was probably just some crank going around checking all the doors and playing some game of his own for the heck of it. Or maybe he was looking for a certain couple and got the wrong room. I blame myself because I didn't have the sense to put on the safety lock. He must have a master key. But I never dreamed…" He broke off, was silent for a moment, and then he added softly, "You go home, Leslie. I think I'll take a little walk through the corridor and downstairs. Maybe I can spot this weirdo, but if I do, I don't want you involved." He kissed her forehead and released her. "I'll call you tomorrow morning."

  Reluctantly, she nodded. "All right, but be careful, Joel. If you should find him, I mean. I don't want you to get hurt."

  "I won't," he assured her.

  They went silently down the corridor to the elevator. Leslie stepped inside and in the instant before the doors closed she could see that already Joel had withdrawn from her. He was intent only on locating that man who had burst into his room.

  The downstairs lobby was filled with people, many of whom were just leaving a private party that had been held in one of the banquet rooms, and Leslie had no trouble escaping the notice of the staff.

  It was a relief to be away from the hotel at last, and as her cab roller-coasted up and down the steep city streets, Leslie's thoughts returned to the incredible thing that had occurred.

  There could be only one logical explanation for anyone breaking into someone's hotel room a
nd snapping pictures like that. Blackmail. Leslie shivered at the word.

  The very notion of such a thing in connection with her own life was absurd. Nobody blackmailed an ordinary secretary who led an ordinary life. There could be no reason for it simply because she had never done anything that needed to be hidden. Tonight, going to Joel's room was definitely something she would prefer others not to ever know about, but even that was hardly worthy of blackmail. Nothing had happened beyond a few kisses, and besides, with the sexual mores being what they were today, who would care? Nevertheless, hot shame swept over her. Being caught like that on a bed with a man somehow put a tawdry color over her love for Joel.

  It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps Joel had something in his life that was not quite above board. Yet that was silly, she quickly chided herself. She had never met anyone who seemed more open and expansive than Joel. He had been just as surprised and upset over the incident as she was, and his first concern had been to protect her by sending her home. No, she was certain that Joel was quite innocent.

  She sighed and stirred restlessly as the cab driver turned onto her street. She had hoped for so much from this evening. Joel had told her it was special and to dress up for the occasion, and later, when he had admitted that he loved and her and wanted to talk to her in private, she had been positive he was going to ask her to marry him. But he never had the chance, she thought dispiritedly, and now she worried that he might do something precipitate if he should happen to see that photographer, and she couldn't bear it if he got hurt.

  The cab drew to a halt in front of the old Victorian house where Leslie lived. The house had been converted into two apartments, and she and Patsy had the entire upper floor. She paid off the driver and climbed the stairs at the side of the house. When she went inside a lamp was burning in the living room, but the room was empty. Patsy's bedroom door was closed, which meant that she was already asleep.