When Next We Love (16 page)

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.

T
HE 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?

“How dare you prowl through my room?” she demanded.

“Oh, I dare a lot!” He moved his mouth toward hers and his hand slid around to find the tie in her towel. “When I know I’m right.”

His head jerked back up suddenly as the door bell began to ring.

“Who the hell is that?” he muttered fiercely.

“Sherry.”

“Who?”

“Sherry Eastman,” Leigh said faintly. She had been saved by the bell, but she wasn’t sure if she was grateful for the interruption or not. “A friend of mine. You talked to her this morning, and you met her a few times—several years ago.”

“Oh.” He was scowling now as the bell insistently rang again.

“Will you go answer the door please.”

“Maybe she’ll go away.”

“She won’t go away,” Leigh said firmly. “She knows you’re here.”

“All right,” he grumbled, eyeing her sternly. “I’ll entertain your friend while you dress, but you come out and get rid of her. Fast. We are going to talk, whether you like it or not.”

“We’ve nothing to say,” Leigh said.

“I have plenty to say, and I expect plenty of answers.”

Leigh sighed as she watched his broad-shouldered form leave the room. If there were any chance—even the slightest chance—that he would believe anything that she had to say, she would be happy to talk to him. But Richard had done his undermining well, and her own foolishness in dealing with the night in Atlanta seemed sound proof of all that he’d had to say.

If circumstances were not in her favor that morning, they were definitely against her as the afternoon rolled by. She found Sherry and Derek in the kitchen when she had dressed, discussing the aftereffects of the recent storm. Sherry, she could see, was having a rough time keeping her hands off Derek.

“Leigh!” Pretty blond Sherry greeted her friend with a little hug. “I missed you!”

“I wasn’t gone that long,” Leigh replied wryly.

“But it seemed like forever!” Sherry exclaimed, flipping a piece of bacon, which caused Leigh to survey the cute little domestic scene going on around her. Derek was eyeing the toast and spooning butter over eggs. He was next to Sherry, brushing against her often with apparent comfort.

Just like Richard! Leigh thought painfully. Happy and at ease with anyone attractive and female while demanding everything from her. Her heart constricted and hardened. Well, Derek could play his games, he could extract his revenge, but he would never have a kind word from her, never draw an admittance of any feeling except total disdain!

Leigh sauntered farther into the kitchen and hoisted herself onto the counter. “Forever?” she queried with amusement. “You must have had very dull days!”

“Not at all!” Sherry chuckled. “We had a super beach party. Everyone was there! Except you, of course. Poor Lyle was so upset! He was astounded that you took off for a trip without telling him!”

Leigh winced as Derek’s head jerked upward and he turned to her with questioning eyes and an “ah-hah!” expression. Yet when he spoke, his tone was amused and nonchalant.

“Who is poor Lyle?”

“One of our resident artists,” Sherry responded quickly, draining the bacon on a paper towel. “Hopelessly enamored of Leigh. He has been for years.”

Leigh’s fingers curled over the counter. She felt like a drowning woman with no sign of help in sight. Yes, Lyle had a crush on her, and yes, he had had one for years. But the gaunt young artist had also had a crush on Richard! He was respectful though, amusing and a friendly companion, a young man who liked to keep his love life a fantasy that appeared in his beautiful watercolors.

It would be impossible to explain Lyle to Derek, especially when she could see by Derek’s grim features that he assumed Lyle to be the “island lover” of Richard’s grievance.

The sunny kitchen had drawn strangely tense and silent, and Sherry, having no conception of what her innocent words had implied, looked between Leigh and Derek with confusion. Then she gave a startled whoop.

“The eggs, Derek! They’re burning!”

Somehow, breakfast made it safely to the table. Sherry took over the conversation, amusing Derek with tales of the flighty types that made up their immediate circle of friends. There was Sandra, a prolific but unpublished poet, who wrote most of her ballads for the sea gulls; Herbert, an artist like Lyle who took great pleasure in painting pictures of sand; Shirley, who wrote terrible tragedies for the confession magazines; and Norma and Harold Grant, who chartered their fishing boat for an income but who mysteriously disappeared for months on end to travel the globe when the whim caught their fancy.

“In fact,” Sherry said giddily, almost passing out with pleasure as Derek courteously lit her cigarette, “we’re having another barbecue tonight down by the beach to hear the calypso singers. Why don’t you two come?”

“And meet Sandra and Herbert and Lyle and the rest?” Derek inquired politely.

“Yes!” Sherry exclaimed. “I’ve been teasing about them really. They are very nice, normal people. I’m sure you’d enjoy them very much.”

Derek contemplated her suggestion for a moment, then gave her his charming smile. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to make it. We’re going to go back to my place on Star Island tonight.”

Leigh was so amazed by his sudden decision that she choked over her coffee. What had happened to his vacation plans? “I thought—” she began.

Derek interrupted her quickly and suavely. “We have an album to work on. I want it wrapped up by Christmas, and to do that we’ll need every day from here out.”

“Oh, Leigh!” Sherry said excitedly.
“You
are working on it too?”

“It’s Leigh’s album,” Derek answered for her. “And we have to fit a wedding in somewhere.”

Sherry’s cup crashed into its saucer. “A wedding!” she shrieked. She looked from one to the other of them quickly, her eyes reproachful and almost hostile when they alighted on Leigh. “You two?” She was decidedly incredulous.

“Yes, us two.”

Derek stared at Leigh, his lips twisted into a hard smile, his eyes daring her to dispute his announcement. He stood and came behind her chair to massage her shoulders with fingers that bit into her flesh. “We deserve one another, don’t you think?”

It took Sherry several seconds to shut her mouth so that she could reply. “But I thought—I—”

“Yes?” The prompting was pleasant.

“No—nothing,” Sherry stammered. She inhaled deeply on her cigarette. “I didn’t think you got along particularly well.”

Derek laughed and ran a finger along Leigh’s cheek. “We get along very well.” He chuckled insinuatingly. “When it counts.”

Leigh despised the rush of blood that filled her face. She was hot and cold and furious. “Derek—”

“I’m so sorry, love.” He feigned an apology. “I suppose you wanted to tell your friend yourself! Well, sweetheart, you got to tell Roger and the others, it seems only fair that I should be the first to tell someone.” His hands tightened on her neck. “I guess Sherry will have to tell ‘poor Lyle’ and the rest of your island friends.”

Sherry didn’t stay much longer. Her hopes dashed where Derek was concerned, she began to look a little sick. Leigh was almost sorry for her. She determined to tell her the whole truth when Derek’s masquerade ended—whenever that would be!

“Marvelous!” Leigh challenged hotly when she had shut the door on Sherry. “Just marvelous! How far do you plan to carry this—this absurd fiasco! Haven’t you already gotten what you wanted? Aren’t you satisfied yet?”

Derek appeared surprised by her burst of anger at first; then his features took on similar grim lines.

“I’ll carry it all the way to the altar, love,” he replied with quiet venom. “And I’ll be sure the altar I carry it to is a good hundred miles away from ‘poor Lyle.”