An Inconvenient Husband (17 page)

"Blake...oh,
Blake..." a whisp of air, barely audible.

Hot skin against hot
skin. Breath mingling with breath. Hearts throbbing. Tongues dancing. Hands
searching, caressing. Again he moaned her name.

"I want you, I
need you," he whispered. "I've missed you so."

"I missed you,
too," she breathed, not thinking, only feeling. "So much, so
much."

Their bodies locked
together, they were swept high up into weightless rapture—a place where stars
exploded and passion shattered until all that was left was a slow, languorous
drifting and delicious contentment.

He kissed her cheeks,
her eyes. "You're crying," he said huskily. "Oh, Nicky, please
don't cry."

She smiled through her
tears. "I'm just happy. It felt so right, so... so perfect."

"Yes." He
hugged her convulsively. "Perfect."

*  *  *

She awoke in the
morning sunlight, consciousness surfacing slowly. Cool air drifted in through
the open window. Birds chirped. Gibbon monkeys whooped in the forest.

Drowsy with sleep, her
body still heavy and sated, she sorted through wisps of thought and feeling.
She felt so good, so good. Why was that? She remembered Blake's hands on her
body. She remembered touching him. She turned and pushed her face into the
pillow and smiled. Had it been a dream?

No dream.

She was in Blake's
bed. A few hours earlier they'd made love. Wild, passionate love. He'd rescued
her from the jungle, taken her home and into his bed.

She reached out her
arm and hand and searched the bed. The sheets next to her were cool to the
touch. She was alone. Where was Blake now?

Up already, working in
the office, no doubt.

Slowly, the drowsiness
faded. The room was bright with sunshine. It was time to get up; the night was
over. So much light in this room. Nowhere to hide from reality. She closed her
eyes against the light, but it did not bring back the happiness she had felt in
the darkness of night as she lay wrapped in Blake's arms.

Well, he'd gotten what
he wanted. A bitter thought, washing away sweetness and languor.

So
have you,
came a little voice.

Yes. And no.

She jerked herself
upright in bed and rubbed her face. She'd wanted him, she wasn't going to deny
it. He had given her a choice and she wasn't going to deny that, either. She'd
wanted to be kissed again by him, feel his hands on her body, wanted his
lovemaking and the way it always made her feel.

And like a miracle, it
had happened just like that.

But you couldn't
recapture the past. And sex was no answer to anything, no solution for real
problems. She stared at the curtains fluttering in the breeze. She had wanted
him so much, needed so much to feel loved and wanted, yet now in the new light
of day, she wondered if love had had anything to do with what had happened
between them.

"Oh, grow
up," she muttered miserably. What had happened was not complicated at all.
It was just like Blake had said: They had needed each other.

And in spite of the
passion, they'd managed to be perfectly responsible about it. Or rather, Blake
had been. Mature, responsible Blake, taking no risks.

Her chest ached. Part
of her did not want to analyze what had happened in a dry, rational manner. A
secret part of her wanted love and romance and the bonding of souls as well as
bodies. It wanted desperately to find some meaning in the loving they had shared.

"Grow up,"
she said again, a little louder this time, trying to banish the longing from
her heart. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

She found Blake
working in the office and she stood in the door, feeling awkward.

She swallowed.
"Good morning."

He glanced up at her.
"Good morning," he returned.

He was waiting for a
cue from her. She felt again the distance of time, the gaping void of four
empty years between them, the old grief and anger—all of it still there in the
brightness of daylight.

They looked at each
other like strangers. She bit her lip, wishing she could think of something
bright to say. She didn't know if she was angry or embarrassed or ashamed.

Ashamed. Why should
she be ashamed? For expressing honest feelings and emotions? And what, exactly,
was it that she had expressed last night?

Lust, pure and simple.
It was her cool, analytical mind speaking, but it made her heart contract
painfully. And what was so wrong with a little honest lust? It wasn't as if
she'd picked the first man off the street and— No, she'd picked the first man
she had ever truly loved. The man who'd been her husband. The man now sitting
at the computer, observing her.

"Have you had
breakfast yet?" she asked, for something to say. Her voice sounded shaky.

"Yes. I had
something earlier." He pushed his chair back. "I need another cup of
coffee, though."

"I'll get it for
you," she offered. "I'll be right back."

He'd made a big pot
and she poured a mugful and took it back to the office. She set it down on his
desk and he lifted his head, searching her face.

"Are you all
right?" he asked.

"I'm fine."
She tried to sound businesslike. "Have you been up long?"

"About an
hour."

As if by unspoken
agreement, they made no further references to the night before, as if
pretending it had never happened. Only it had, and the memory hung heavy in the
air between them, full of unspoken emotions and unanswered questions.

"I apologize for
taking the car last night," she said as they were eating the lunch Ramyah
had prepared for them. "How are we going to get it back here?"

"I'll get Ali to
go to Paradise Mountain and arrange for a tow truck to haul it to a
garage."

"Do you know
what's wrong with it?"

"From what you
told me, it's probably the alternator and it'll need to be replaced."

"Is it something
I did?"

"No. It would
have happened anyway. You were just the unlucky victim."

Probably bad vibes.
The car had not liked her. It had not wanted to be put to work in the dead of
night. Who could blame it?

Apart from meals she
saw little of Blake in the next few days. Whatever they'd thought to get out of
their system, had only burrowed itself deeper. The thought of that passionate
night haunted her, as if the very energy of it was still there. It was in her
awareness every time she was near him. And she saw it reflected in his eyes,
saw it still smolder there every time he looked at her. Even sharing their
meals was a nerve-racking ordeal. Memories kept surfacing. A single word, a
look, a sound, seemed to set them off. At night she stirred restlessly, her
dreams confused and full of strange images she could not decipher.

It was a miserable
situation. Three days later she was a worse wreck than before. She wrote, she
read, she prowled through the house. Blake kept himself hidden in the office.

The Land Cruiser had
been hauled away and was returned to the house a few days later in fine working
order.

"Tomorrow I'm
going to KL for the day," Blake announced at dinner that night. "I
have a meeting about the project, and I'll go see your father and figure out
what's going on."

Hope leapt joyfully.
"I'll come with you!"

"No, you are
not," he said flatly. "It's too risky, Nicky. We don't know what's
going on and it makes no sense to put you in danger. We don't know if the
police caught those gangsters or if they're still hoping for a chance to grab
you. You're staying right here."

"Don't tell me
what to do!" She sounded like a child, but it seemed it was the only
defense she had. Blake was right, of course. They had no idea what problems her
father was having with those Hong Kong criminals. Attempted kidnapping was no
minor offense. Her own discomfort should not be a major consideration, even if
she was going demented in the process. If she used her brain, she knew that
staying right here was the best course of action.

She just didn't like
it. She hated it.

"I'm sorry,
Nicky," he said, "but there's no choice. If your father says you can
come back, I'll drive you back to KL the next day. In the meantime, I'll give
him a message, if you like."

She tensed. "Tell
him I'm on the verge of losing my mind and I want to get out of here. Tell him
I want my purse and my passport!"

"Anything
else?" he asked calmly.

A dose of rat poison,
she almost blurted. "My notebook and computer disks," she told him
instead. "My father knows where they are. And I want some clothes."

He nodded. "Now,
one more thing." He pushed his empty plate aside, leaned his arms on the
table and looked straight into her eyes. "I've rescued you from an
uncertain fate twice in the last few days," he stated. "Twice is my
limit. So do me a favor and don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

She gritted her teeth.
"You sure know how to give orders, don't you?"

He gave a
long-suffering sigh. "Please promise me you'll be careful. Don't go
wandering off into the forest. Don't come up with some other compulsive scheme
to-"

"I get the
picture," she snapped. "I'll wait for you to talk to my father and
get my money and my passport. Then I'll get out of here."

He flashed her a dark,
unreadable look, but made no comment.

He'd already left when
she awoke the next morning. He'd started early since it was a long drive and he
intended to come back the same day. It was a relief to have the house to
herself. She felt as if she could breathe again.

Oddly, the day seemed
to stretch forever, in spite of her having plenty to do. There was reading,
researching, writing. Blake had given her his laptop computer to use, saying he
could use the O'Connors' PC in the office.

He told her he'd be
home by eight, but by nine he still wasn't back. Well, he was probably delayed
for some reason or other, and there was no phone to let her know.

By the time it was ten
she was beginning to worry. What if something had happened? What if he'd been
in an accident? Her mind created images and scenarios, all involving blood,
broken bones, and worse, which did nothing at all to calm her nerves. She
brewed a second pot of tea and tried to read, doing research for an article
about love potions and aphrodisiacs, but no matter how absorbing she'd find
this under normal circumstances, it could not compete with the frightening
images rampaging through her mind.

She stared out into
the throbbing darkness. She was sitting on the veranda amid the smoldering
mosquito coils, awash in tea and terror, waiting. Oh, God, she couldn't stand
waiting.

It was close to eleven
when the headlights finally swung through the yard and across the verandah.
Fear ebbed out of her chest, and with it came again the old sense of déjà vu—a
wisp of awareness fluttering out of her subconscious. And then she knew,
suddenly, as if a light had been turned on in her memory.

The dream. It brought
back the feelings in the dream.

Blake came bounding up
the stairs with amazing energy. He looked wonderful—strong, vibrant, and very
much alive. His brows arched in surprise as he noticed her. "Hi," he
said. "Thought you'd be in bed by now."

"Where were you?
What took you so long?" She sounded like a worried wife, and it didn't
escape him.

He gave her a crooked
smile as he dumped a box and his briefcase on the veranda floor.

"Missed me?"

Annoyance replaced her
worry. "Heck no, I had a wonderfully peaceful day."

"I thought you
might." He made a move toward the living room. "I'm having a drink.
Can I pour you one?"

"No, thanks. I'm
swimming in tea."

He was back a moment
later and leaned back against the railing, apparently not ready to sit down
again after his long drive. "I'm sorry I couldn't call you and let you
know I was going to be late. The man I had to see had some sort of a crisis and
I couldn't meet with him until late this afternoon, so I couldn't get out of
town until almost seven." He took a long drink from his whiskey.
"Your father is all right. The contract has been canceled and he's managed
to get the attention of some high-powered Hong Kong officials, who are taking a
close look at that fraudulent company."

She let out a sigh.
"Good. Did the police figure out who came into the house and destroyed my
room?"

"They know the
people who were behind it, but they haven't been able to find them, which is
cause for concern." He frowned. "Your father is concerned they may be
out for revenge now, which would be rather stupid on their part, but they
haven't shown great brain power to start with, so it's something that needs to
be considered."

Her heart sank.
"And what does that mean? That I can't go back to KL?"