Danielle Steel: Zoya

But he wasn't going to let her go now. If she had slapped his face, he would have apologized and left, but he could see now that she wanted him as badly as he wanted her. “Why not? Who makes those rules? You're not married. I am, but not in any way that means anything to anyone. I haven't been in years. I'm trapped in a marriage of form to a woman who doesn't even know I'm alive, and hasn't loved me in years, if she ever did … don't I have a right to more than that? I'm in love with you,” his eyes fought for what he so desperately wanted, as she watched him.

“Why? Why do you love me, Paul?”

“Because you're exactly what and who I've always wanted.”

“I can't give you very much.” She was honest with him, as she had always been with Clayton and Simon. “Even a little of you will be enough, I understand that.” And then, more quietly he kissed her, and much to her own amazement, she didn't fight him. They sat and talked for hours after that, kissing, holding hands, and it was after midnight when he left, promising to call her the next day, and she sat in the quiet apartment, feeling guilty when he left. It was wrong, it had to be … wasn't it? What would Simon think? But Simon wouldn't think anything, he was gone, and she was alive, and Paul Kelly meant something to her too. She valued his friendship, and he had stirred something in her she had all but forgotten. She was still sitting there, thinking about him, when she heard Sasha come in, and she walked quietly into her room. She was wearing a bright red dress and her makeup was smeared, and Zoya didn't like the look on her face. She suspected that she was drunk, and she had confronted her about it before. She faced her with tired eyes now. It was exhausting always fighting with her.

“Where have you been?” Her voice was calm, she was still thinking of Paul as she looked her daughter over.

“Out.” She turned her back so her mother couldn't see her face. Zoya was right. She was drunk, but still beautiful.

“Doing what?”

“Having dinner with a friend.”

“Sasha, you're only eighteen, you can't run around anywhere you like. What about school?”

“I graduate in two months, what difference does it make now?”

“It makes a big difference to me. You have to behave yourself. People will talk if you're too wild, they know who you are, who I am. You don't want all that, Sasha. Please be sensible.” But there was no hope of that, and hadn't been long since. Since Simon had died and her brother had gone, Sasha had run wild, and Zoya had almost given up hope of controlling her, she was afraid to lose her entirely. More than once, she had threatened to move out, which would have been even worse. At least this way Zoya had some idea of what was going on and what she was doing.

“That's a lot of old-fashioned crap,” Sasha said as she tossed her dress on the floor and stalked the room in her slip. “People don't believe in that garbage these days.”

“People believe in the same things they always did. You're coming out this year. You don't want them saying ugly things about you, sweetheart.” Sasha shrugged and didn't answer her, and with a sigh Zoya kissed her good night, smelling the liquor on her breath, the smoke in her hair, as she looked at her unhappily. “I don't want you to drink.”

“Why not? I'm of age.”

“That's not the point.”

Sasha only shrugged again and turned her back until her mother left. It was pointless even talking to her. Zoya longed for Nicholas to come home, maybe he would still have some influence on her. Surely no one else did. And now Zoya worried about what would happen when Sasha started coming into the money Simon had left. She would really go wild then, if someone didn't stop her before that. She was still thinking about it when the phone rang at one o'clock. Her heart stopped for an instant, fearing terrible news. But it was Paul. He was at home, but he had decided to call her. Allison slept locked in her own room, and after leaving Zoya's warmth, he was doubly lonely.

“I just wanted to tell you how much tonight meant to me. you've given me something very special.”

“I don't know how, Paul,” her voice was low and soft, and in her mind, she had given him very little. A few kisses and the warmth of a moment.

“You're making my life exciting again. Just our Monday nights make the rest of my life worth living.”

She realized then how much she'd looked forward to them too, he was intelligent and kind and amusing.

“I'm going to miss you this week.” And then he smiled, “do you suppose lightning would strike if we met on a Tuesday?”

“Do you suppose we should try it?” She felt very bold as she said it. And they both laughed like happy children.

“Let's have lunch tomorrow and find out.” He was smiling as he hadn't in years. She made him feel like a boy, and there was something about him that made her feel happy and peaceful.

“Do you suppose we should?” She wanted to feel guilty, but oddly enough she didn't. She had the odd feeling that Simon would have understood it.

“Tomorrow at one o'clock?”

“Make it noon.” Her hand trembled as they hung up. It was a crazy thing to do … and yet, she didn't want to stop. She remembered the touch of his lips on hers in the library that night, and there was something innocent and sweet about it. He was her friend, no matter what happened now. He was someone she could work with and talk to, and spend time with, discussing his business and her children. He listened to her, and he seemed to care about what happened. She wondered if that was wrong but that night, when she slept, she dreamt of Simon, and he was standing next to Paul Kelly, and smiling.

CHAPTER

47

Paul arrived at the store shortly before noon the following day, and found her sitting in her office going over her work with a serious look and a pen stuck in her hair. He knocked softly on the door, and smiled as he opened it and saw her sitting at her desk.

“That's a familiar picture,” he smiled as she looked up at him. “Too busy, Zoya? Should I come back later?”

“No, it's all right. It can wait,” she smiled, enjoying the warmth of their friendship. He had been looking forward to seeing her all day, and he was struck again when she stood up and went to get her handbag by how lovely she was. She was still a remarkably beautiful woman.

“Rough day?” he asked, with his warm Irish smile.

“Not as rough as it could be.” Her smile answered his, pleased that he had come to see her. It was easier meeting him here than in Simon's office. This was her turf, not his, and it allowed Paul to share her present more than her past, which suddenly seemed more important.

They walked to lunch at “21,” and at three o'clock they were still talking and laughing. Spencer Tracy was at a table nearby, with a woman in a large hat and dark glasses, and Zoya wondered who she was, but Paul wasn't interested in her. He couldn't take his eyes off Zoya.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked finally, her eyes searching his, but comforted by what she saw there. There was only kindness and strength, and all the good feelings he had for Zoya.

“Because I love you,” he said very softly. “I never intended to fall in love with you, but I did. Is that so wrong?” She couldn't tell him that it was, after all she knew of the emptiness of his life with Allison.

“It's not wrong. But, Paul …” She hesitated and then went on,”… what will we have if we indulge ourselves? A few stolen moments from time to time. Is that what you want?”

“If that's all there is, I'll be grateful. To me, they are treasured hours with you, Zoya. The rest is … well, whatever it has to be.” And he instinctively knew that she didn't want more than that from him. She had her children, the store, and her memories of Simon. “I won't ask you for more than that. I don't have a right to. I won't lie to you. Ever. You know that I can't leave Allison, and if what I can give you isn't enough, I'll understand it.” He gently took her hand in his under the table. “Maybe I'm being very selfish.” Zoya shook her head, as near them she saw Spencer Tracy laughing. She wondered again who the woman was and why he looked so happy.