Authors: Ann Cristy
Torn Asunder (10 page)
He
stared at her for long moments. "All right. We'll do it together."
Cle
felt her mouth drop, her eyes start from her head. "Don't be silly,"
she whispered, her voice hoarse.
"Don't
be pompous, Cle. It's unattractive." Dev pointed to her apron. "Get
me one of those wraparound things."
"But
you can't.. .Your slacks..." Cle paused, his words sinking in. Anger
seemed to rise from her toes. "Pompous!" she shouted at him as she
followed him at a trot to the kitchen. "Did you say pompous?" She
stood in the doorway leading to the pantry where Dev was rummaging around.
"You have gall, I'll give you that. How dare you say that I—"
"Don't
nag me," Dev said as he emerged from the pantry with the vacuum cleaner in
one hand, pail with cloths and cleaners in the other, apron round his waist.
"If you want this place done, get working. I'll argue with you
later."
Cle
could feel her blood pounding in her head. Every epithet that she could dredge
up was clamoring to be snouted at Dev as he walked past her into the living
room, ignoring her. Frustration drove her after him but since he continued to
pretend she wasn't there and then turned the vacuum on so that her voice
disappeared in the roar, she had no choice but to go back to her polishing.
Anger
made the cloth a live thing and in no time Cle finished her waxing. She and Dev
barely exchanged a word. The place looked wonderful when they called a halt
some hours later. Grudgingly she offered Dev a sandwich and something to drink
and still there were few words between them.
Cle
was still groping for some way to make it clear to Dev that he should not show
up that evening when he abruptly rose to his feet, said that he was going, and
that he would be back later.
She
was left staring at the door he slammed behind him and listening to the hum of
the elevator that took him to the ground floor.
Cle
soaked in a hot tub with mountains of fragrant bubbles, hoping to calm her
nerves. From time to time she eyed the dress she had hung on the clothes tree
in the bedroom. Swathed in a bathsheet, she walked around the dress several
times trying to decide if, in truth. Jaime's creation would give her courage,
as he had told her it would when he first insisted that she have it. She'd shot
back that she'd probably be arrested for wearing what he termed his "Venus
Creation."
It
was a strapless cream lace dress worn with a sheer body stocking underneath. It
was form hugging, hidden pleats from the knee providing the freedom to dance...
or walk! It delineated every curve, leaving very little to the imagination.
Cle
creamed her body with a perfumed lotion given to her by Amy Worden who said,
"it was guaranteed to gather the 'yum yum' boys to her side." She had
scoffed but now, as she inhaled the elusive scent that emanated from her body,
she raised her eyebrows. She was glad the apartment was air conditioned as she
dabbed at the beading of perspiration on her lip but decided not to turn the
power to high until the press of people would demand it. She used very little
makeup, grateful that her skin had already picked up a honey tan from the day
of surfing at the Nivens's. A touch of blush, a light eye makeup, lipstick and
she was finished.
Remembering
Jaime's admonition against too much jewelry, she wore only the teardrop
sapphires Dev had given her and a pinkie ring with a tiny sapphire stone. Her
hair fell straight to her shoulders like a black velvet curtain.
When
she looked in the mirror, she had second thoughts about the dress and was just wondering
if there would be time to change, when the bell at the service door rang,
announcing the arrival of the caterers. She would change after she had them
settled, she promised herself.
Cle
was not conceited, but she would have had to be blind not to have noticed the
admiring glances coming her way from the two men who were setting out the food.
Rather than feeling flattered, she was more determined than ever to change.
When
she saw that things were in good shape she left the two men and hot footed it toward
the bedroom. Before she had even crossed the hall, though, the front door bell
was ringing. Cle sighed and answered the door.
"Darling,
you look sensational," Jaime declared, taking hold of her arm and turning
her in front of him. He looked at Max Brainerd, satisfaction on his face.
"This is called 'Venus.' Lovely, isn't it?"
"Lovely,
but the model is even lovelier," Max said, not bothering to hide his
admiration as he looked her over from head to toe.
"I
was just going to change..." Cle began.
"Ridiculous!"
Jaime roared. "You look beautiful. My dress has made you so. You must wear
it. I insist." Jaime quick marched her into the lounge, where one of the
white coated young men was setting up a portable bar.
Still
with his hand clutching Cle's upper arm, Jaime stalked to the bar and ordered a
vermouth on the rocks, glaring at the hapless young man when he fumbled and put
dry vermouth into the glass. Jaime liked sweet vermouth and assumed that
everyone knew that.
"Jaime,
will you be patient and let him get set up first?" Cle hissed, trying to
pry his fingers from her arm. "And will you let go of me? My arm is going
numb."
"First
you will promise me that you won't change your gown! Oh, Max, answer the door,
will you?" He turned back to Cle, his voice squeaking more than usual.
"Promise you won't change."
"I
promise, you tyrant." Cle watched him go back to the bar and begin
badgering the bartender. "Jaime, there's something I have to tell you. Oh,
yes, thanks for the Perrier." Irritated Cle put one hand on his arm and
shook it. "Will you listen to me for a moment? I must tell you
something."
Jaime
looked past her, putting his professional smile in place. "No time now,
for a tete a tete, Cleora, your guests are here," Jaime whispered from the
side of his mouth.
Cle
turned to greet the Nivenses and the
couples she had met at their beach party and Diana had consented with
enthusiasm, delighted that Cle had taken to Pam and George Murray and Ginna
Bell. In the flurry of introductions of Jaime to the new arrivals, Cle had no
time to pull him aside to tell him that Dev was in
Max
had brought two of his models with him and Alistair's assistant, Clive Beavens
and his wife. As more people kept arriving, Max confessed he'd overextended the
invitations.
"I
felt that you wouldn't mind, Cle dear," Max announced, smiling at her
gasp of dismay.
"How
many are coming??" she asked in a small voice.
"Not
to worry. There won't be more than thirty. Forty would be the outside
number." He smiled and patted her cheek. "You'll like them, dear. All
walks of life, don't you know."
"Max,"
Cle wailed. "I'm not sure I have enough food or even enough to drink..."
"Something
wrong, darling?" Dev's hand was warm at her waist as he leaned down and
kissed her shoulder. "You look devastating." The palm of his left
hand lay flat against her stomach as he pulled her back closer to ; him.
Cle
stood there, not even turning to look at him, her body feeling as though it was
going through a mini electrocution. "I... I might not have enough food or
drink." Her voice was wooden. "When did you get here? I didn't hear
the bell ring."
"Didn't
you?" Dev's breath feathered her cheek as he lowered his head to kiss her
ear. Then he straightened and without releasing her, snaked his right hand
round her body and extended it to the puzzled looking Max. "Hello. I'm Dev
Carstairs."
"Max
Brainerd." Max took Dev's hand without enthusiasm, his face growing more
suspicious.
"I'll
talk to the catering people for you, darling," Dev announced and with a
nod to Max and a light kiss on Cle's hair, he moved toward the kitchen.
"Who
is that? Or would you rather I didn't ask?" Max had a crease between his
brows.
Before
Cle could answer Max, she spied Jaime marching across the room. She closed her
eyes for a moment wishing for a rocket that would send her right out of the
room. "I think your question will be answered in a moment." Cle
tried to smile at Max as Jaime thundered to stop at her side.
"What
in hell is he doing here? I thought you came to
told me that you had changed your mind, Cle. "Jaime machine gunned the
words at her.
"Cool
down, old boy," Max said quickly. "Your face is turning purple and
people are looking at us."
"Max
is right, Jaime. Cool down or you'll spoil the party." Cle sighed. "I
don't know how he found me. He showed up this afternoon. I tried to tell you
when you arrived this evening, but I didn't have time."
"Hello,
Toner. Happy New Year." Dev lifted his glass in mocking salute. Then he
turned to look at Cle. "All taken care of, darling. More food and drinks
will be coming." He looked back at Jaime. "I heard you ask Cle how I
got here." He took another swallow of what Cle knew would be Irish
whiskey, a little water, and no ice. "I put detectives on you Toner. They
informed me that you had booked a flight to
Toronto International." Dev's smile had ice in it.
Jaime's
face turned a rich magenta, his mouth opening and closing. Before he could say
anything, Cle clutched his hand.
"Jaime,
it's time for dinner. Please." Cle let her nails dig into his wrist,
finally making him look down at her, his face an angry mask.
Cle
had planned on a sit down dinner but when she went to the caterer's with her
excuses, she found them all smiles and more than willing to set out a buffet.
Cle wondered just how much Dev had paid them to make them smile like that at
all the inconvenience. It stunned Cle when she saw the array of food that was
set out in the dining room. Small trays were being placed here and there so
that people could put their plates and silverware on them. To her surprise
dinner was only a half an hour later than she originally planned.
She
looked once at Dev and was infuriated when he raised his glass to salute her.
Damn the man! He did everything well, even to saving her dinner party. Instead
of feeling grateful Cle had the strongest desire to up end the ice bucket over
his head!
Everyone
seemed to think the picnic atmosphere of the dinner a nice touch and people
were laughing and talking to one another in a warm way.
Cle
took her tray of food and sat on a stool near Max and Jaime but her ear seemed
to be tuned to every word that Dev said. It irritated her that Pam Murray and
Ginna Bell seemed to gush over his every syllable.
"And
you practice in
well as
Mr. Carstairs... I mean Dev?" Ginna simpered.
"No,
my law practice is in
Britain
throughout the world. I find business consulting the greater challenge."
"It's
practical to have houses in both
thinking of opening one up in the Far East soon, and, of course,
spot for a base."
"Wonderful,"
Pam cooed, her voice an irritant to Cle. "Then we could see you all the
time."
"True,"
Dev answered, making the ladies laugh.
Cle
could hear a roaring in her ears and wondered if she were coming down with the
flu.
"And
did you have to take special studies to become a consultant in the States,
Dev?" Pam asked.
"I
attended
quiet voice rang false to Cle's ear. "Further his understanding
indeed!" she harrumphed to herself. The man had passed the New York State
Bar Exam and had a slew of degrees, both British and American.
"Ohhh,"
the two women chorused. "How bright you must be."
At
that Cle rose to her feet, almost tilting the plate from the tray table.