Torn Asunder (12 page)

Dev
laughed. "Go to sleep, you ungrateful brat."

Dev's
laugh had never had that shaved rock sound before she thought. And then sleep
took her.

CHAPTER FIVE

Cle didn't wake refreshed
but she did wake free of the headache. The noises that wakened her weren't the
familiar ones that she had begun to associate with a
Sydney
commercial area. As she looked foggily
at the clock and saw that it was past noon, she assumed the caterers were
collecting the last of their things. God! She jerked to a sitting position,
yawning. Was everything where they could find it?

She
crawled out of bed, rushing to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face
and rinse out her dry as dust mouth.

Still
bleary eyed and fumbling with the tie on the cotton wrapper she'd slipped on,
she started down the hall leading to the kitchen area. A thump from the second
bedroom made her pause, frowning. What would the caterers have left in the
bedroom?

Smothering
another yawn, she pushed open the door and stopped. She gasped as she watched
Dev carry an armful of suits toward the closet and hang them there. She must
have made some sound because he turned to look her way as he hung the last
suit.

"What...
what are you doing?" Cle licked her dry lips, a horrid thought taking
shape in her mind.

"These
are my clothes." Dev's smile had all the charm of a placid demon.
"I'm hanging up my clothes," he said in a measured tone as though he
were talking to a mental incompetent.

"Then
you can just damn well unhang them and get them the hell out of my
apartment." Cle's voice was a high pitched roar as she catapulted herself
toward the offending jackets hanging in the closet.

Dev
caught her around the waist before she could reach her target. "Can I
assume that your headache is better this morning?" That hard smile was on
his face again and making Cle feel as though she were doing a balancing act on
a sword.

Of
its own accord her body began melting toward Dev. Gritting her teeth, she looked
up at him from the prison of his arms. "Get your hands off me and leave my
apartment."

"No."
Dev set her away from him, but banded her arms between his strong hands.
"I'm staying, my love. I'm staying with you. And you can bloody well
swear, rant, scream, rage, throw things. It won't matter. I'm not
leaving."

"I'll
call Jaime... and Max... and Alistair!" Cle gasped, her hands shaking, not
with anger, but with a need to touch Dev. This weakness of hers inflamed her
more.

"Call
them, please." Dev's teeth bared in a smile that had all the winsomeness
of a piranha. "It would give me great pleasure to change the color of the
great Toner's eyes or to loosen your Max Brainerd's teeth. I would really like
that type of exertion, dear Cle." He let goof her and moved toward his
cases.

"You
can't fight! Besides, it would be three against one. They would throw you
out." Cle silently cursed the tremor in her voice.

He
swung around. "Call them. Let's put it to the test, shall we?" The
green ice of his eyes made the upward curve of his mouth look like Satan's
grin.

"You
can't stay here," Cle blustered. "Go back to
England
and
Larren."

"So
you remember me speaking of Larren? Of wanting to show it to you?" He spat
the words at her over his shoulder.

"I
don't want to talk about that." Her hands balled into fists as she watched
him put shoe cases into the closet. "I want you out of here."

"No."
All at once Dev was back across the room before she even guessed his intention
to move. "Come along to the kitchen. I've fixed you a light breakfast.
When you're through, I've arranged for us to have a picnic lunch delivered to
us by the caterers. Then we're going to the beach. We'll do some surfing."

"You
don't surf." Cle glared up at him as he marched her to the kitchen, her
fingers trying to pry his from her arm.

"Of
course I surf," Dev said, pushing her into a kitchen chair and getting a
plate of toast from the stove.

"Oh,
God!" Cle groaned, munching and glaring, munching and glaring. "I
hope a shark gets you, but he'd probably spit you right up again and gag for an
hour."

"My,
my, aren't you complimentary this morning?" Dev observed, his face bland.
"Tummy upset?" He looked interested.

"Yes..
.no.. .It's none of your business what my stomach is doing." She wanted to
pierce him through with her fork. Instead she stabbed the helpless egg on her
plate. "Where did you learn how to surf?" she mumbled still looking
at her lacerated egg.

"When
I attended Harvard some classmates and I took a long break in
California
. Then, when I was based in the
States, I used to take vacations in
Hawaii
.
The surf at Waimea is outstanding." Dev answered, his tones mild.

"Peachy
for you."

"Yes,
it was."

"Don't
you be so damned friendly." Cle choked on a bit of egg then swallowed the
hot coffee too fast, making her cough increase. "And don't you... dare...
pat... me on the back." She glared at him through watering eyes. "You
are to get out of this apartment."

"Don't
be boringly repetitive, darling." Dev rose, clearing both his things and hers
from the table, flabbergasting Cle who had never known him to pick up
anything.

"And
don't think you're fooling me with this helpful boy routine," she said
darkly, following him down the hall to the bedroom area. "I haven't said
I'll go, you know."

"You
have a choice, love." Dev's tones were silky. "You can either walk by
my side or I'll wrap you in towels and carry you over my shoulder like a
laundry bag."

Cle
drew herself up to her full height, wishing for once that Dev were five foot
three instead of well over six feet tall. "You can't threaten me, buster.
You had better remember your law about coercing people."

"So
sue me, but if you aren't ready in ten minutes I will bundle you like a
parcel." He turned to walk into the room that he had the nerve to call
his, when he paused. "And don't bother trying any cutesy, Yankee tricks,
because I'm through fooling with you."

"Don't
you dare insult my New York Yankee heritage ... you.. you... Limey
you..." She finished by shouting because Dev shut the door in her face.

Cle
went through several battle plans while she was getting into the jeans and
halter top that would be suitable to wear to the beach. She decided that she
would drown him. No jury would convict her! She'd probably receive a medal for
getting rid of a public nuisance. She rolled her bikini into a towel and went
to the door.

Dev
was waiting for her. She steamed by him, chin in the air, not even speaking to
him as they descended in the elevator.

She
glared from him to the silvery black Porsche, wondering how the devil he had
gotten the car in such a short time. She locked her teeth together to prevent
herself asking him.

They
rode in silence. The sun was so dazzling it hurt the eyes. The ocean and sky
were a hot blue that both warmed and cooled the spirit.

To
Cle's surprise there were few people at the beach Dev chose. "Are you sure
it's all right to swim here? There are places along here where the currents are
tricky. Alistair Nivens told me—"

He
interrupted. "I've checked with several persons including your friend
Nivens about this beach. It's considered safe, but it is also private. Come
along. Let me take your hand. These rocks could be treacherous."

"I'll
be fine on my own, thank you."

"Cle."
His voice sounded like iron filings.

"Oh,
all right."

When
they reached the flat area of the beach and Cle would have jumped the last few
feet from the rocks, Dev stopped her with a hand on her arm. He jumped first,
put down the bag he carried and turned to her with his arms held out.

"Jump."

"I
can get down myself." She felt suddenly breathless.

"Jump,
Cle."

She
did. His arms closed around her at once, her body was swung free of the rocks
and was allowed to slide a short way down Dev's body. When they were face to
face, nose to nose, and eye level, Dev stopped the downward movement of her
body.

"I
want a truce today," he growled softly, his breath touching her lips.

"Too
bad about what you want," Cle squeaked, pressing her hands against his
rock like shoulders but having no luck in pushing him away.

"Do
we stay like this? Or do you tell me that you're going to pull in your horns
and mind your waspish temper?"

"Me,
waspish?" Cle struggled harder. "What about your acid tongue, Mr.
Attorney, sir?" "We both try. Agreed?"

Cle
let out a shuddering sigh and nodded, not looking him in the eye. "All
right. It is a beautiful day."

"Good
girl." Dev laughed. Before she could guess his intention, his mouth was
clamped to hers. The kiss was short and hard. When he released her she would
have staggered but Dev's arm was there. To Cle's eye he seemed totally
unaffected by the kiss.

She
wanted to punch him for kissing her—and ask him to do it again! God! The
thought made her take off at a run toward the water, leaving Dev to gather up
the things she had dropped.

Over
her shoulder she saw him coming at a slower pace. She stopped, taking the beach
bag from her shoulder. She looked around frowning, searching for a place to
slip on her suit. There were no other people in sight. Still, there was Dev.

A
cluster of rocks off to one side offered the most privacy. She walked toward
them, swinging her beach bag in her hand.

"Don't
bother changing there for my sake, darling,"

Dev
drawled behind her. "I've seen your lovely form so many times.
Remember?"

"I
thought you wanted a truce today." Cle didn't look back, feeling the heat
rise in her face at the thought of just how many times Dev had seen her nude.

"Get
changed, Cle."

Rebelliously
she stepped behind the rocks. "There's no way we can have a truce,"
she said to herself. "A double murder maybe, but not a truce."

Dev
wasn't on the beach nor in the water. Cle guessed he'd gone back to the car to
get the surfboards. She ran into the water, gasping at the first shock of cold
then reveling in it. When Dev appeared with the boards, she quickly went back
to shore. Some of the eagerness she had felt the first time she surfed infected
her now. Together she and Dev paddled out.

He
came close to her and signaled for her to turn and paddle gently. She nodded as
he indicated the waves coming up behind them.

When
she looked over her shoulder and saw the rollers coming at her, she knew that
these were much bigger waves than the ones she had dealt with at the Nivens's
beach.

Heart
in her mouth, she realized all at once that Dev assumed her experience to be
greater than it really was. How he would laugh if he knew that during her one
day of surfing she had managed to stand fully upright only once.

Dev
signaled her that the next wave would be the one they could take together. It
looked like a watery building coming at her.

Cle
wanted to shout "no," but instead she found herself nodding and
beginning to paddle harder toward the beach that now seemed a hundred miles
away. As she edged her knees up, her mouth went dry in the midst of all that
roaring water. From her peripheral vision she could see Dev on his feet, bent
and balancing, the board like a bronco beneath him. She could tell, though,
that he was watching her.

The
tunnel of water behind her sounded like a railroad train and made her knees
weak. She gathered her courage and forced her body to straighten.

For
unbelievable seconds she rode that water, her heart hammering in her throat,
her hands flung out on either side of her, her knees bent. For milliseconds she
thought she might be able to hold on, to ride it to the beach. Elated, she
risked a glance at Dev, who was riding his board, body fully relaxed, but his
face grim as he watched her. All at once her board flipped into a near vertical
position as she lost the curl. She felt herself plowed down in the horrendous
torrent. All her training in swimming didn't prepare her for this! Panic
gripped her as she swirled in the foaming green depths. Yet the years of
training did make her kick upward even as her body was trapped in the roiling
vortex.