Free Ride the Thunder by Janet Dailey Page B

She’s in her room resting before dinner,” the maid replied, still smiling from the compliment of her floral skills. Her wand-slim figure didn’t show her age, but her shyly drawn features were etched with wrinkles.
    “Thanks.” Jordanna started toward the den, then turned, continuing to walk backwards as she asked, “Dinner is at eight?”
    “Yes.”
    She glanced at her watch. “I guess I’ll have plenty of time. Mother is such a stickler about changing for dinner.” She wrinkled her nose in disdain for a custom she felt was needless.
    Skirting the living room with its Louis XIV furniture, upholstered in pale green silk damask, and Baccarat crystal chandeliers, she walked directly to the den. She knocked once and walked in. Her father wassitting in his favorite chair, its brown leather worn soft and faded to tan. A magazine was lying open on his lap. His grayed head was resting against the high back. A dead pipe was clamped between his teeth. The weary look was wiped from his face as he smiled.
    “Hello, Dad.” Her gliding walk carried Jordanna to his chair, where she bent to kiss his smoothly shaven cheek. She had seen the tiredness in his expression, but knew better than to mention it. Straightening, she suggested, “I’m going to have a Scotch. Can I fix you one?”
    “Please.” Fletcher Smith took the pipe from between his teeth and knocked the ashes from the bowl into the ashtray.
    A crystal decanter of Scotch sat on a tray atop his desk, along with a matching set of four glasses. Jordanna filled two of them, not bothering with ice since they had both acquired a taste for Scotch served at room temperature. Her gaze strayed around the room. The decor in the rest of the apartment changed at her mother’s whim, but this den always remained the same. The only alterations were additions of new trophies on the wall. The latest was a pronghorn antelope that she bad downed.
    “Did you stop by to see Kit?” He took the drink she handed him.
    “Mmm.” Jordanna swallowed the sip she had taken and walked to the nearest sofa, curling her long legs beneath her on the cushions. “Yes.”
    “What did he think of the present?”
    “He wasn’t there. I didn’t want to wait until he came back so I left the gift.” She took another sip of the liquor and glanced at her father over the rim of the glass. “He’s sharing the apartment. Did you know that?”
    “No.” Fletcher set his glass on the tobacco stand and began filling his pipe.
    “Well, he is. I met his roommate today. His name is Mike Patterson. He seemed nice. The two of themare really going to turn that place into a bachelor pad.” Jordanna leaned back against the cushions and studied the liquid swirling in her glass, caused by the circular motion of her hand. “Kit is really serious about living on what he earns, isn’t he? I mean, there he is—having someone else move in to share the expenses of the apartment.”
    “He seems to be serious.” He held a lighter flame to the bowl and puffed out smoky clouds. “From now on, you had batter check first to be sure Kit is there before you go to his apartment.”
    “Why?” Jordanna lifted her head from the back cushion to frown at her father. “Just because he’s sharing his apartment with someone? Mike looked like a nice clean-cut guy. He isn’t likely to attack me or anything.”
    “No. That isn’t what I meant.” He sounded angry and her frown returned. “I simply believe we should respect Kit’s desire for privacy and not drop in on him without calling in advance.”
    “I suppose you’re right.” she conceded and watched him closely through her lashes. She saw him turn his head away and close his eyes in an expression of pain before he rubbed his forehead. “What’s the matter, Dad? A headache?”
    Startled by the question, he looked up and opened his mouth as if to deny it. “Yes, I guess so,” he nodded.
    Her gaze strayed to the magazine opened on his lap. Uncurling her legs,