Strange Bedfellow (21 page)

“Yes. I know,” he agreed with a hint of impatience. “But I'm not looking forward to spending another night here.”
 

Dina hesitated, uncertain of his meaning. Finally she acknowledged. “The beds aren't very comfortable.”
 

His mouth twisted wryly. “Yes, they're too soft.”
 

“Do we have time to catch the ferry?”
 

“If you don't waste too much time packing, we do,” he told her.
 

“I won't,” she promised.
 

“I'll check out while you get started,” said Blake.
 

During the ferry crossing neither mentioned the abrupt change of plans that had them returning early. They talked around it as if unwilling to delve too deeply into the reason. When the ferry docked in Newport they stopped talking altogether, both absorbed in their own thoughts.
 

It was several seconds before Dina noticed that Blake had missed a corner. “You were supposed to turn at that last block,” she reminded him.
 

“We aren't going back to the house right away,” he said.
 

Dina waited for him to tell her their destination. When he didn't, she asked, “Where are we going?”
 

“There's something I want to show you,” was all he answered.
 

After several more blocks, he turned onto a tree-shaded street, branches arching overhead, nearly touching. He slowed the car down, seeming to read the house numbers as he drove down the street. Dina's curiosity grew with each second of his continued silence. Finally he turned into a driveway and stopped the car, switching off the engine.
 

Dina glanced at the large white house surrounded by a green lawn with lots of trees and flowering shrubs. She didn't recognize the place.
 

“Who lives here?” she asked.
 

Blake was already opening his car door and stepping outside. “You'll see.”
 

She flashed him a look of irritation as he came around to open her door. He was carrying all this mystery business just a little too far. But she said nothing and walked ahead of him along the winding sidewalk to the front door.
 

There was a jingle of metal behind her and she turned. Blake was taking a set of keys from his pocket. Selecting one, he stepped ahead of her and inserted it in the front-door lock. Suspicion glittered in her eyes.
 

Pushing the door open, he motioned to her. “Go on in.”
 

Her gaze swerved to the opened door as she moved forward to cross the threshold. On her right, carved oak posts ran from floor to ceiling to partition the mock entryway from the spacious living room beyond. Although the room was sparsely furnished, the items that were there Dina recognized as furniture stored from their apartment.
 

“What is this supposed to mean?” Unable to look at him, she thought she already knew the answer, and his high-handedness made her tremble with anger.
 

“Do you like it?” Blake ignored her question to ask one of his own.
 

“Am I to presume you bought this house without consulting me?” she demanded accusingly in a low, shaking voice, barely able to control her ire.
 

“As I recall, you were too busy to be bothered with looking for a place for us to live or furnishing it,” he reminded her in an expressionless tone. “But to answer your question—no, I haven't signed any documents to purchase this house.”
 

“If that's true, what is all our furniture doing here?” Her hand waved jerkily to the sofa and chairs.
 

“I obtained permission from the owner to have it brought in to see how it would fit in the rooms and to give the decorator an idea of what still has to be done.”
 

Dina turned on him roundly, her eyes flashing fire. “In other words, you're presenting me with an accomplished fact! It doesn't matter what I want! You've decided on this house and if I don't like it, that's just too bad, isn't it?”
 

“Your opinion does matter.” A muscle was twitching along his jaw, the only outward sign that he felt the lashing of her words. “That's why I brought you here.”
 

There was a skeptical lift of her chin, disbelief glittering in her eyes despite his smooth denial. “Why not? Why not before? All this furniture wasn't just brought here and arranged overnight.”
 

“No, it wasn't,” Blake agreed.
 

“Then why now?” Dina repeated her demand.
 

“Because I had the impression you were ready to start looking for a place we might share together.”
 

His narrowed gaze was piercing, impaling her on its point until she wanted to squirm under his sharp scrutiny. She averted her attention to the room, unable to admit that it might have been more than an impression.
 

“Was I wrong, Dina?” Blake questioned.
 

She didn't want to answer that question—not yet, not until she had more to think about it: She didn't want to be manipulated into a commitment.
 

“Since I'm here, you might as well show me through the rest of the house,” she said with forced indifference.
 

Blake hesitated, as if to pursue the answer to his question, then gestured with his hand. “The dining room and kitchen are this way,” he directed.
 

As Dina toured the house, she realized it was everything they had ever talked about in a home of their own. Spacious without being too large, with ample room for entertaining, a study for Blake where he could work undisturbed in the evenings, a large patio in back, and plenty of closets.
 

“Since you're working, I thought we could arrange to have a maid to come in and do the housework,” Blake explained as they walked down the hallway from the master bedroom to the main living area of the house.
 

“Yes,” Dina agreed absently. At the open doorway of one of the two empty rooms, she paused to look inside again. The spare bedrooms were smaller than the master bedroom, but still adequately large.
 

There is one thing I haven't asked you.” Blake stopped beside her.
 

“What's that?” She turned to meet his gaze.
 

“I haven't asked how you fell about having children.”
 

Slightly flustered, Dina looked back go the empty room, visualizing it not as a guest bedroom but as a children's room. “We've talked about it before.” They had discussed having two children, possibly three, she remembered.
 

“That was several years ago,” Blake pointed out, “before you became a career woman.”
 

“Working women raise children.” She hedged, avoiding a direct answer and speaking in generalities instead.
 

“And there are some working women who prefer not to have children,” he added. “I'm asking what you prefer, Dina.”
 

He seemed silently demand that she look at Reluctantly she let her gaze swing back to him, but she was unable to look any higher than his mouth. There were no soft curves to it; it was strong and firm and masculine. Dina had the impulse raise her fingertips to it and trace the strength of its outline.
 

“I would like to have children, yes.” Her reply was soft almost inaudible.
 

“Do you have any objections to my being their father?” There was a husky quality to his voice.
 

The movement of his mouth when he spoke broke the spell and Dina looked away, her heart pulsing erratically. She didn't make a response. She couldn't seem to speak. Something was blocking her voice.
 

“Do you?” Blake repeated. When she remained silent, his fingers turned her chin to force her to look at him. “Was I mistaken this afternoon on the beach?” His steady gaze didn't waver as he looked deeply into her eyes, seemingly into her very soul. “Did you give me your answer, or was it a fleeting surrender to passion?”
 

“I don't know.” Dina wanted to look away, but she couldn't. Her mind was reeling from his touch, incapable of coherent thought. “I ... I can't think.”
 

“Just this once don't think” Blake requested.
 

“Tell me what you're feeling.”
 

His hands slipped to her shoulders, tightening for a fraction of a second as if he wanted to shake the answer out of her, but they relaxed to simply hold her. Dina stared into the bluntly chiseled features, leather-tanned, and those compelling dark eyes. This was Blake, a man, her husband, and not quite the stranger she had thought him to be.
 

She swayed toward him and he gathered her into his arms, prepared to meet her more than halfway. Her lips parted under the plundering force of his mouth, taking the prize she so readily surrendered to him. As if it had never been away, her soft shape molded itself to the hard contours of his body.
 

His roaming hands caressed and shaped her ever closer to his solidly muscled flesh. Their combined body heat melted them together, fusing them with the glorious fire of their love. His driving male need made Dina aware of the empty aching in the pit of her stomach, which only he could satisfy.
 

Soon the torrid embrace was not enough. It was unable to meet the insatiable needs of their desires. Bending slightly, Blake curved an arm under her knees to lift her bodily and carry her to the master bedroom and the bare mattress of their old marriage bed.
 

As he laid her on the bed, the twining arms around his neck pulled him down to join her. Nothing existed for either of them but each other—not the past and not the future, only the moment, eternally suspended in time.
 

The initial storm of their passion was quickly spent. When Blake came to her a second time, their lovemaking was slow and languorous. Each touch, each kiss, each intimate caress was enjoyed and prolonged, savored and cherished.
 

The beauty of it brought tears to Dina's eyes, jewel-bright and awesomely happy. Blake kissed them away, gently, adoringly. Never had it been like this between them, as near to perfection as mere mortals can get.
 

Blake curved her to his side, locking his arms around her. Dina sighed in rapturous contentment and snuggled closer, not wanting to move, never wanting to move. Here was where she belonged, where she would always belong.
 

Chapter Ten

BLAKE STROKED HER HAIR, absently trailing his fingers through the silken ends, watching the fairness of its color glisten in the light. Her eyes were closed in supreme contentment.
 

“Would you say it now, Dina?” His huskily caressing voice rumbled from deep within his chest.
 

“Say what?” she questioned in equal softness, not sure words could express anything close to what she was feeling.
 

“Welcome home, darling.” He supplied the words he wanted to hear.
 

Tipping back her head, she looked up to his face, love bringing a dazzling brilliance to the blue of her eyes. “Welcome home, darling.” She repeated the words in a voice that trembled with the depth of her meaning.
 

A strangled moan of a torment ending came from his throat as he lifted her the few inches necessary to plant a hard, possessive kiss on her lips. Then his trembling fingers moved over her lips as if to apologize for hurting them.
 

“I've been waiting so long to hear that.” There was a sad, almost wistful curve to his strong mouth. “Now, it doesn't seem nearly as important.”
 

“A thousand times I've wondered if it might not have been different if I'd known you were alive before I saw you at the house,” Dina whispered, her heart aching at the time together they had lost. “I thought it was someone's twisted idea of a joke.”
 

“I should have made more of an effort to get hold of you or have the authorities reach you before I came back,” Blake insisted. “I knew it would be a shock. Chet tried to convince me to let him break the news to you, but I didn't listen, not even when my own mother was so stunned that she didn't believe it was me. I was expecting too much not to think you would react the same way. In the end I went to my mother, but I tried to make you come to me.”
 

“It wasn't just shock,” she explained. “It was guilt, because I'd become engaged to Chet. And there you were, my husband. I wanted to run to you, but I couldn't. Then suddenly, you seemed so different—a stranger, someone I didn't know. It was window dressing,” Dina sighed.
 

“Subconsciously I didn't want to admit there'd been any changes in either of us,” he murmured with a rueful smile. “I wanted everything to be the way it was, as if I'd never been gone.”
 

“Still, everything might have been different if I hadn't been engaged to Chet.” Dina turned to rest her head again on his bronzed chest and listen to the strong rhythm of his heartbeat.