Elinor was halfway up the stairs when a knock sounded at the door. She hesitated. Brad had long since hugged her good-bye and set off on his trip home to Julie. Even Daisy wouldn't drop by this late.
Whoever it was knocked again, more thunderously. Elinor turned and slowly came back down the stairs, her heart suddenly picking up a jungle drumbeat.
A swift glance through the narrow glass panels that bordered the door revealed Cole standing on her shadowy gallery.
Elinor felt her jaw firm in instinctive defense. The man didn't know when to quit. Thank goodness she hadn't yet changed out of her full chambray skirt and snug, scoop-necked blouse. A confrontation like this required more clothing than a nightie and robe.
Decisively, she flipped on the light switch, flooding the hall with a soft glow. Clicking the deadbolt back, Elinor wrenched the door open, her body suddenly trembling with anger.
It wasn't just that he'd come so close to seducing her. She recognized that a woman's body was considered fair game these days. But Cole had seriously threatened her heart.
He stood in her doorway, his shadowed face without expression.
"If you think I'm going to apologize for having dinner with the Stephenses, you're wrong," Cole said without preamble.
Elinor stared at him, a thousand words jumbling on her tongue. "I don't want you to apologize for anything," she said in a stiff voice when she finally managed to subdue her temper. "I don't even want to talk to you."
"That's too bad," Cole declared, his hand reaching out to block her from closing the door, "because I want to talk to you."
Brushing past her, he walked into the hall and went into her darkened parlor without hesitation.
In a surge of helpless rage, Elinor slammed the door shut and followed him.
She stood by the double glass doors, just inside the parlor, as he turned on several lamps. He paused, glancing around the room with its lace curtains and comfortable groupings of country antiques.
He turned to face her at last. "Who was the guy you were with tonight?"
"Brad?" she said, caught off guard by his question. What did Brad have to do with anything?
"Yeah, Brad," he responded ironically. "Who is he? Old boyfriend?"
"No, he's not an old boyfriend. Not that it's any business of yours."
Cole's jaw tightened. "I want to know what you were so upset about tonight. Have you been seeing this guy all along and you didn't want him to know about us?"
"There is no us!" Elinor burst out.
"No?" He moved toward her. "Maybe I should have stayed over last night. Then you wouldn't be so confused on the issue."
"I am not confused!" she yelled. "I am outraged!"
"Why?" asked Cole. "Because you nearly slept with someone your grandfather wouldn't shake hands with?"
"This has nothing to do with my grandfather or with Brad," Elinor stormed, adrenaline racing through her veins. "I'm furious because of the disgusting lengths you'll go to get what you want."
"What are you talking about?" he asked irritably.
"Is romancing women your favorite negotiating technique?" she spat out. "Do you get some kind of sick thrill from convincing us that we mean something to you?"
"Wait a minute," Cole said slowly. "You're accusing me of romancing you to get your vote on the plant?"
"Not just me," Elinor corrected with irony.
"Who else?" His eyes were narrowed in an analytic expression she'd come to recognize.
She laughed sarcastically, not answering him.
"Norell? You think I'm 'romancing' Norell Stephens," he said, his voice disbelieving. "The woman means nothing to me other than her connection to the mayor."
"That's exactly my point!" Elinor gasped, shocked that he'd admit it. How could she have been so stupid as to think someone like Cole could actually care about who he hurt?
"You think I've been chasing Norell to get her father's vote on the plant," Cole said with awful emphasis, his eyes going dark with emotion.
"I think it was fairly obvious what you were doing tonight," she returned stiffly.
"Tell me what you think is so obvious," he commanded in a soft purr. "Apparently, I'm dense."
"You just said Norell means nothing to you, and yet you take her dancing, holding her close, smiling down at her as if she were the only woman in the world." She stopped abruptly, afraid that the sob in her throat would escape and complete her embarrassment.
"Elinor," he said through his teeth. "I am not a gigolo or a two-bit con man. I do not have to 'hold women close' to make a business deal. We were just having a social evening."
"How do I know anything you say is true?" she demanded wrathfully, old fears taking over. "You could be pulling off a huge scam, and the simple citizens of Bayville wouldn't even see it. Quiet little towns get shafted by big business all the time. You're the local boy made good. Nobody's going to question you."
Cole took a step toward her, his face now dark with fury. "I'm not a con man and I don't need to sleep with women to do business. I don't need this plant badly enough to sell my body for it. As you so frequently point out, I'm filthy rich."
Though shaken by the intense look on his face, Elinor held her ground. He might look righteously indignant, but that didn't mean she was wrong. "Having money isn't any insurance against conscienceless behavior. Money breeds the need for more money. I've seen 'businessmen' trample people's lives. They care only about their own gain."
"Just because I came from the wrong side of the tracks doesn't mean I have the ethics of a sewer rat," Cole ground out, his hands clenched at his sides. "Prescotts don't have a monopoly on morals, you know."
"It doesn't have anything to do with where you came from," she denied shakily. "It has to do with what you'll do to get what you want. My family was destroyed by the pursuit of money."
Cole clenched his jaw and grappled with the emotions that raged through him. She was wrong about him, overall. But the knowledge of his own duplicity checked the anger roused in him by her accusations.
He had to think, had to calm himself down. If anything good was to come of this mess, he had to focus all his energies on listening to Elinor at this moment.