When Next We Love Page 12

  Leigh gripped the fuzzy dolphin and hurried after him. He was strangely quiet as he drove, his jaw squared and tight As they took a wrong corner, Leigh assumed his self-absorption had caused him to lose direction.

  “This isn’t right, Derek,” she said. “You should have gone straight.”

  “I’m not going to the house,” he replied. “I want to stop by the cemetery.”

  Leigh fell silent along with him, her skin prickling uneasily. At the wrought-iron gates, Derek bought a spray of flowers, then continued down the winding path until he parked and they walked the remaining distance to Richard’s grave site. Leigh followed slightly behind Derek.

  Derek placed the flowers in the two bronze vases that flanked Richard’s final resting place.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t send Richard home for burial,” Derek said matter-of-factly.

  “Home?”

  “Yes, to England.”

  Leigh frowned, puzzled. “Richard had no one left in England,” she said. “No one close …” For a few seconds she forgot that Derek was there and thought about the man who had been her husband and now lay beneath the neatly trimmed sod. “I think that’s why he needed the adulation so much. He needed to be loved. He needed to be loved by many people.” She realized suddenly what she was saying. She bit her lip and glanced at Derek nervously, expecting him to bristle and come up with a comment about her being such a poor companion that Richard had been forced to look for love elsewhere.

  But Derek said nothing. He crouched down and dusted a cluster of dirt from the marble headstone. Then he rose and slowly began to walk away, back toward the car. He stopped suddenly and turned back to Leigh. “I’m sorry. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” Leigh picked her way through the stones after him and hesitantly accepted the hand he offered her. Neither spoke again until they reached the house, then Derek, casting aside the gloom that had invaded them both, cheerfully commanded her to take a leisurely shower and dress up for the evening.

  “Where are we going?” Leigh asked.

  “Oh, lots of places!” Derek replied vaguely.

  It was difficult for Leigh to control the excitement and happiness that were growing steadily within her. She tried to remind herself that Derek’s kindness and friendliness could be a trick far worse than any of his cruelty. But all her stern warnings did little to dissipate the exhilaration that claimed her like a heady drug. The day had gone too well for her to maintain the guard she needed to resist him.

  She bathed like a bride preparing for her nuptials, washing her hair with scented shampoo, filling the tub with an oil that lived up to its promise of leaving skin as soft as a baby’s. The dress she chose was alluring, bold, and daring—a black silk that plunged to the cleavage of her breasts and completely bared her back. Side slits wavered teasingly as she walked, giving occasional glimpses of her slender legs. To complement the sophistication of the gown, she carefully pinned up her hair, not severely as usual, but in delicate, looping ringlets. She finished off with makeup applied heavier than was her custom, but right for an evening out.

  At last she slipped into black, heeled sandals and spun before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, tense with anticipation. She bit a lip with happy excitement. Her eyes, bright with the cheer that could only come from natural elation, were enticing and adventurous. Her hair, high but soft, gleamed rich and red in its coils. The whole effect was perfect. Had she ever been beautiful in her life, it was this night.

  Derek, handsome and elite and overwhelmingly masculine in black velvet, was waiting for her in the living room. His eyes roamed over her as she joined him, and for once they held nothing but sincere admiration. He sauntered over to her and offered her a sherry wordlessly. Leigh accepted the drink from him, then spoke quickly, afraid to let the drawing silence continue.

  “You look dynamite! You should be in an advertisement for some ungodly expensive men’s cologne!”

  “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind if all else fails.” He caught her arm and spun her in a circle. “May I return the compliment? If you were in the same advertisement, I guarantee you any male seeing it would run to the store in the middle of the night to purchase a cologne which could attract such a divinely stunning female!”

  “Thank you,” Leigh replied in turn. She sipped her sherry and withdrew her hand to wander idly across the room. “Have you decided where we’re going yet?”

  “Umm. I thought we’d have dinner at Pier House and move on over to the Casa Marina for after-dinner drinks and dancing.”

  “Nice,” Leigh murmured. She sipped the rest of her sherry and inched toward the door. “I’m really starving tonight. We missed lunch, you know.”

  “Umm …” Derek repeated. The concealed amusement in his tone was evident by the golden twinkle of his eyes. “Nervous again?”

  “Just hungry,” Leigh lied. She was terribly nervous, not of Derek, but herself. She would soon forget that she didn’t trust him. She opened the door herself and moved into the night.

  Once they reached Pier House, a casually elegant dining place that overlooked the shimmering sea, Leigh began to relax. She was fine in Derek’s company as long as they weren’t alone. They chuckled companionably as they argued over appetizers, both having the inclination to order everything on the menu page. Then Leigh had difficulty deciding between the steak Diane and the lobster thermidor, and Derek laughingly said they would order one of each and create their own surf and turf. They split a bowl of conch chowder, smiling afresh as their spoons continually clashed.

  A bottle of Dom Perignon disappeared along with their meal, which Leigh chose assiduously to ignore. She felt marvelous, and when they strolled along the moonlit beach before driving over to the Casa Marina, her steps were steady and her mind, although dreamily clouded, seemed to be functioning fine.

  Derek was behaving like a perfect gentleman. He supported her as would any escort, but made no passes of any kind. The only time she fell into his arms was when they danced below the muted lights of the Casa Marina and drank sweet cordials into the small hours of the morning.

  Leigh would later berate herself cruelly for her mistaken belief that the amount of alcohol she consumed was all right because she had been eating. She knew she had a low tolerance level, and she later realized Derek knew it too and knew exactly what he was doing as he kept her drinking and dancing, smiling all the while. By the time they left the Casa Marina and drove for her home, she was as relaxed and content as a well-fed kitten purring -before a fire.

  She was so relaxed that she accepted Derek’s kiss with eagerness when they entered the house, accepted his arms around her and automatically brought her own to his back, her hands to caress and to luxuriate in the feel of his heat and strength. She was swept away by dizzying sensation as he lifted her easily and strode smoothly for her bedroom, lost in desire as he stripped aside the coverings and lay her pliant form down.

  She didn’t think as he pulled off her shoes, didn’t resist as her nylons slid sensuously off her legs. It even seemed perfectly normal and right when Derek cast away his black velvet jacket and trousers, crisp silk shirt, and tight-fitting briefs. She knew every line of his magnificent bronze body, remembered with sweet anticipation the ecstasy of joining with his splendor.

  He moved beside her and kissed her again, arousing her further with his probing tongue, bringing her body to burn as his own. His lips moved along the satin texture of her throat and she weakly protested, “We can’t fall asleep. Maria will find us in the morning.”

  Derek was gently working on the clasp that held the black dress around her neck. “Maria won’t be in tomorrow morning. I told her to take the day off.”

  Something snapped in Leigh’s mind, a blaring suspicion that turned her heated blood cold. “You—you gave Maria the day off?” she repeated, stiffening within his arms despite his tender ministrations.

  “Ummmm …” He was nuzzling her neck, but she wrenched away. It was all perfectly clear now. F
rom the time they left the house that morning, his every movement, action, and gesture had been planned for just this moment. He had refused to argue with her, even over Richard, to lull her into a sense of comfortable trust. It had all been done just to get her into bed, to possess her, degrade her, use her, and hurt her—as she had supposedly hurt Richard.

  “No!” she screamed. As much as she loved and desired Derek, as much as her body cried out for her to stay, it couldn’t be this way. “No, let me go!”

  His expression, she could see, even in the dim light, was stunned. Then anger slowly filled in as he observed her, propped up on an elbow, narrowing his eyes to cat gold and tightening his lips to a thin line. Freed from his weight and caressing hands, Leigh made a mad scramble to rise. He caught a handful of the black dress and it came apart in his hands as he jerked her back beside him.

  “No, Mrs. Tremayne? I think not.” His voice was a silky hiss. “But I am willing to hear about this sudden reluctance. You weren’t in the least, uh, hesitant last time.”

  Hysteria was slowly claiming Leigh, creeping upon her as she read the determined intent in his eyes, felt the impregnable steel band of his arm around her.

  “You’re crazy, Derek, I keep telling you that. There was no last time—”

  He growled an impatient oath and his arm tightened. “What do you take me for, a fool? I know damned well that was you in Atlanta! You think I don’t know your skin, your voice—Irish accent or not—your shape, your thighs, your every curve and every secret—”

  “No!” Leigh cried again, horrified. “You’re wrong! All black cats are alike in the dark! You told me so!” Her voice was rising shrilly.

  “Not this cat, love, she has a streak of silver.”

  “No, Derek,” she tried desperately for control. “Please …”

  “If I remember correctly,” he went on harshly, ignoring her protests totally, “you might even have been called the ‘seducer’ that evening. Granted, I was a willing ‘victim,’ but then, I don’t really believe you’re unwilling now.”

  “I am unwilling!” she shouted, grabbing for a last-chance stance of dignified hauteur. “Damn you, Derek, let me go this instant!”

  His hold loosened slightly. “What is it, Leigh?” he asked coldly as she scrambled to her feet. “Do you make a habit of nights like that? Did you think it amusing to hoodwink me?” He was rising despite his nudity to face her. “Did you play that little disguise game and run around when Richard was alive? Is that how you met your lover?”

  The situation didn’t matter anymore. That Derek was standing menacingly before her naked, his every muscle taut and wired with tension, meant nothing. That she would be a fool to cross him never crossed her mind. All she felt was terrible, sick fury. And like a blind animal, all she wanted to do was strike out.

  And she did. She flew at him like a wild thing, nails drawn, hands and arms flailing furiously. She was determined to pummel him to pieces, draw blood with her fists as he did with his words.

  With agility and speed and raving fury, she delivered one blow. Then it was all over. “I’ve warned you a dozen times, love,” he whispered coldly as he captured both her arms and held her tightly against him. “I slap back!”

  And with a gesture that was actually more of a cuff, he did. Leigh went sprawling back on the bed, astounded that he would carry out such a threat.

  He was beside her again before she could gather herself into more than a sitting position, gathering her to him in all his bronze glory.

  “That’s one lesson, love,” he said, still in the deadly cold voice. “You’re about to get another. Don’t play your little teasing games with men, real men, unless you plan to carry them out. You came willingly into this bedroom with me tonight, and now, willing or not, you’re going to stay here.”

  The remaining pieces of the black dress shredded from her body as he ripped it with one swift but powerful movement. Beams of moonlight peeped in from the half-open curtains, displaying her own naked beauty. She huddled, shrinking away from him.

  “Derek!” Her cry was a broken plea as he collected her into his arms. “Oh, God, Derek, please, not like this!”

  He went rigid for a moment, relaxed, stiffened, groaned. His face sank into the sunset of her hair. A shudder rippled through his length.

  “No, my love, not like this. I would have you willingly.”

  But he did not release her. He began to make love to her again, gently and tenderly, caressing her with hands that softly explored the contours of her face, and more urgently discovered the intimate secrets of her breasts, her hips, and her thighs. And despite the emotions that boiled through Leigh, despite everything that had happened, she began to respond. She was the woman again who wanted nothing more than to touch him, to feel his embering flesh against hers, to wrap herself around him however briefly …

  He was creating a whirling vortex of pleasure she couldn’t deny, a wonderful pleasure that only he could bring, because she could never, no never, no matter what he said, thought, or did, change the simple fact that she loved him as she had never loved in her life.

  And in his arms, with his kisses and demanding, roaming hands consuming her, she soon forgot all else. Her fingers dug into his hair, she matched kiss for kiss. Woven surely into his web of passion, she lost herself in a returning, bold aggression, needing as he did to explore, to caress his broad chest with her lips, to taste the masculine roughness of his cheeks, to feel the muscular contours of his long back and sinewed thighs … steel that trembled with warmth and vibrancy at her touch.

  When he finally took her, the sweet ecstasy was so great that Leigh sobbed with the shock and a shudder rippled forcefully through her. Their eyes met, and his were infinitely tender.

  They were on a plain that surpassed all else, the special lovers inexplicably bound together, both aware of the magnetizing uniqueness that drew them together irrevocably … soaringly.

  That which had been sparked by anger became beautiful and rapturous. The night passed in a storm of tender passion, and as Derek had promised, Leigh came to him willingly. Again and again.

  Whatever happened in the future, she could not regret this night, marked with turmoil as it was, when the cool breeze of the bay caressed the splendor of their love and a silvery moon looked down upon their union with a blessing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE DISCORDANT JANGLING OF her bedside phone woke her. The raucous sound, interrupting her from a deep dreamland, took awhile to penetrate.

  “Maria will get it,” she mumbled to her pillow.

  The sound continued, bringing with it the reality and humiliating memory of her abandoned and painfully quick surrender. She groped a hand quickly to retrieve the receiver before Derek awoke, praying she could dress and escape the room without having to face him in the bright light of day. Maria, of course, would not be getting the phone.

  Her hand touched flesh. Derek was already awake, answering her phone.

  “Hello? No, don’t hang up, you have the right number.”

  Leigh peeked as she heard a faint and garbled noise from the other end of the line.

  “No, no trouble at all.” Derek glanced at her with twinkling eyes. “She’s not busy, she’s, uh, sitting right here.”

  Leigh pulled the covers to her chin and ripped the phone from his hand, gracing him with a malignant glare. “Hello?”

  “Leigh? Who is that? What a marvelous voice! Is it … no! It can’t be! I won’t believe it! Or is it? Is it, Leigh? Is it Derek Mallory?”

  The barrage of questions and exclamations came in a rush from her best friend, Sherry Eastman. Leigh had often grit her teeth over the last two years when Sherry raved about Derek, begging her to come to terms with him so that he would return to Key West and, presumably, Sherry’s charms.

  She lifted her eyes resentfully to Derek. He was fully dressed, and looked as if he’d been up for some time and already out on the beach. Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she snapped, “Do
you mind?”

  He shrugged and sauntered out of the room, his eyes still twinkling mischievously, his grin still annoyingly smug.

  “Yes, Sherry,” she sighed to the phone. “That was Derek.”

  “Oh! Then things went well. Marvelous! When do I get to see him?”

  “I—I don’t know,” Leigh hedged. The last thing in the world she wanted to see at the moment was her best friend falling all over Derek. “I’ll have to call you back on that.”

  “Leigh!” Sherry wailed. “Why don’t I just hop over?”

  “Not—”

  “See you in a few minutes.” The line went dead.

  Leigh flew from her bed and into the shower. When she emerged, wrapped in a snowy towel, Derek was back in the bedroom, his long form draped casually over the foot of the bed.

  Leigh scowled and studiously avoided his eyes. “Would you please get out of here?”

  “Don’t you think we should talk?”

  “Talk! Good Lord! No!” Talk? In the full light of day? Look into his eyes as he mocked and made light of her?

  “All right, we won’t talk.” He patted the bed. “Come here.”

  “No!”

  “Then I’ll come there.”

  Leigh gripped her towel tighter. “Derek, what happened last night—”

  “Would have happened sooner or later. Sooner, if you weren’t such a little hypocrite.” He had reached her and his hands were running slowly along her arms. “You know me, and you know I get my way. You were also truly an ostrich with your head in the sand to believe I didn’t know it was you at the costume party.”

  “It wasn’t!” Leigh would never bring herself to admit it.

  “I found the contact lenses this morning.”

  Leigh unwittingly focused her eyes on her dresser. The case was sitting next to her jewelry box. Why hadn’t she gotten rid of the damn things?