Free The Widow and the Wastrel by Janet Dailey Page B

absent most of the week, a situation that had preyed on her nerves since she had never been entirely certain when he might turn up. His explanations, even to his mother, as to where he had been were vague and uninformative. Elizabeth couldn't make up her mind whether his mysteriousness was deliberate or merely an extension of his personality.
    When they reached Rebecca's side, she preceded them into the club, her head tilted regally as though she were leading a royal procession. In answer, heads turned at their approach. Curiosity was the main reaction, cloaked in the guise of greeting. The farther they walked into the small reception area where cocktails were being served, the more conscious Elizabeth became of another reaction.
    Her gaze slid sideways to the man at her side. Six foot, lean, with thick, carelessly waving tobacco brown hair and rakishly carved features, Jed Carrel was a compellingly attractive man. He was not the handsomest or the tallest man in the room. And Elizabeth realized that he was not holding everyone's attention simply because he was a Carrel or because he was a Carrel who had become an outcast by his family.
    Perhaps a part of it was the worldly look in his eyes, that intimation that he had seen and experienced much without ever revealing what had happened. But more, Elizabeth knew, with a certainty that it was the potent virility, his maleness that silently challenged women.
    She was still making a surreptitious study of him when Jed turned his head and held her gaze. In that charged second she knew that he had been aware of her inspection all along. It was there in the laughing glitter of his eyes.
    "What do you suppose they're thinking?" he murmured to her in an aside as he nodded and greeted the various people who were acknowledging them.
    Elizabeth gave a quick hello to Mr. Shaw and his wife before answering Jed's question in a voice as soft as his. "That you've grown into a fine-looking man." The smile she gave him as she looked into his face was cool and controlled. "No doubt the mothers are wondering if they should let their daughters near you and—" pausing for emphasis, "whether they're too old to catch you themselves."
    His quiet chuckle touched only her ears. "I didn't expect cynicism from you, Liza."
    The captivation in his smile caught her by surprise. She hadn't realized he could be so charming if he chose. She quickly averted her gaze, feeling the warmth rising in her neck, but bringing only an attractive pink tint to her cheeks.
    "I didn't mean it to sound cynical," she replied.
    At that moment Barbara Hopkins detached herself from a younger group of adults and glided forward to meet Elizabeth. Her friend's eyes kept straying to Jed, leaving Elizabeth in little doubt as to whom she was really interested in meeting. It was only natural, she supposed. After all, Jed could be classified as an eligible bachelor and there wasn't an abundance of unattached males in Carrelville.
    "Elizabeth!" Barbara called gaily, reaching out with a ringed hand in greeting. "That's a stunning gown."
    Patiently Elizabeth returned the greeting and compliment, before introducing Jed. Barbara's coy gaze vaguely irritated Elizabeth when it was directed at Jed, but he didn't seem to find it too sweet.
    "So you are Elizabeth's tennis friend?" he smiled, holding Barbara's hand longer than Elizabeth thought was necessary.
    "Oh, yes, we play at least once a week. Do you play, Mr. Carrel?"
    "Jed, please," he corrected smoothly with a brief inquiring tilt of his head, "if I may call you Barbara?" His answer was a wide, satisfied smile of agreement, "I do play tennis, although not recently."
    "Perhaps we can arrange a game of doubles." Barbara glanced pointedly at Elizabeth, letting her know it wasn't an idle suggestion. "You'll have to persuade Allan to be your partner."
    The reference to Allan Marsden made Elizabeth conscious of the man standing to her left. At the mention of his name, he stepped forward, handing