Torn Asunder (14 page)
Authors: Ann Cristy
"Dev,
wait." Cle went closer to the door. "I'm supposed to go to Max
Brainerd's today for cocktails and a buffet at four..."
"I
know. I've already been invited. We'll go together."
"We
can't," Cle wailed into the wood of the door.
"Do
you still keep your phone numbers in a drawer in the kitchen?" Dev's
peremptory tone threw her off.
"Yes,"
she answered without thinking. "Dev? Dev, are you there?" She
listened at the door for a moment, then decided that he had left the bedroom.
Shrugging, she turned to her bath, then looked at the shower and back to the
bath. Shower! Yes! That's what she'd do then she could shampoo her hair at the
same time.
She
smiled at the thought that at that moment in
snowstorms, slush, and sleet while here there was hot sunshine in January. She
mumbled to herself as she stepped under the cool shower. And if she didn't stop
talking to herself this way, she'd be wheeled into the white wagon and driven
away.
Again
Dev shocked her by preparing a perfect omelet for breakfast. The coffee was
black and rich, the toast crisp and oozing with butter. She looked at him,
suspicion uppermost in her mind. "Bucking for head chef at
McDonald's?" she asked sweetly, taking a big sip of the hot coffee.
"I
thought you'd be pleased that I was multi talented."
"You
know darned well that you never once cooked when we were in our... that is your
apartment in
"Mrs.
Hubbard would have been hurt," he said as he scooped more of the omelet onto
their plates, then served wedges of crisp broiled tomatoes.
Silence
reigned while they ate. Cle couldn't help the "ummm" of pleasure that
escaped as she forked the food into her mouth. She glared at Dev when he smiled
in satisfaction.
"About
tonight—" Cle dabbed at her mouth with a napkin then reached for her
coffee cup as Dev gestured with the pot.
"Don't
worry about this afternoon and tonight." Dev smiled, his teeth reminding
her of a crocodile. "I called Brainerd's place and told him that I would
be taking you." He poured coffee into her cup, careful not to spill it
when the cup jerked in her hand.
"You
have a nerve telling them that when I told them
that
Oh, God..." Cle blanched. "Did you tell them
where
you were calling from?"
Dev
didn't answer her but his crocodile smile widened, making Cle want to pour her
coffee down his shirt.
CHAPTER SIX
As
the day wore on, Cle's anger increased. She went looking for Dev, bound and
determined to have it out with him. She found him in the bathroom off his bedroom
scrubbing the tiles. "Dev, this charade has gone far enough. Your
blue-blooded family would turn purple with rage if they could see you
now." She stood there arms akimbo, her anger out of all proportion. She
wanted to tilt the scrub bucket over his head. She wanted to take the brush and
ram it between those even rows of teeth now widened in a smile. "Now you
get off that floor and get out of here."
"I
thought you said that we couldn't—" "I never said we, not once!"
She inhaled an angry breath as he slowly uncoiled his length and stood,
dwarfing
her, dwarfing the bathroom. She lifted her chin, forcing herself to look into
those green eyes. "I want to talk to you." She sniffed, turning her
back on him and starting to move away. "Right now. In the lounge,"
she stated, still moving away. Inhaling, she marched to the lounge area,
turning to take a stance in front of the fireplace. Her resolve wobbled a bit
when Dev was nowhere to be seen.
By the time he
strolled into the front room, her rock-hard speech had a melting, jello like
consistency. "Where did you go?" she squealed at him.
The dark arch of
eyebrows rose, the green eyes were emerald fire. "Why I washed up a bit,
love. Did you miss me?"
"Yes... No,
of course, I didn't. I want to talk to you."
Dev ambled to her
side, took her arm and sat her down next to him, his thigh alongside hers, one
of his arms stretched along the back of the couch. "So you said." He
smiled down at her, then leaned toward her, a crease in his forehead as one
finger came up to swipe at her cheek. "Smudge."
"Stop
that." She tried to move away but Dev's arm came down to her shoulder,
holding her. When she found that she couldn't budge him, she turned to face
him, looking at his chin. "You can't stay here any more. 1 don't want a roommate
and I don't want people talking about me."
"That didn't bother you in
leaned toward her, his breath feathering her cheek.
"That's
different. Nobody talks about anybody in
York
about that warm breath near her ear. "I don't know what people think here
in
have no intention of starting off on the wrong foot."
"To use your
sweet Yankee phrase, 'Balderdash,'" Dev said, speaking absently.
"That's not Yankee. It's
English." Cle almost whimpered.
"Is it?
Whatever." Dev hitched his body closer, his fingers dancing on her
shoulder. She felt a tingle—even through the cotton of her long-sleeved working
shirt. "Your problem is that you fight the inevitable, Cle, darling."
"No such thing. I just don't want
you here."
"Yes, you do. You want me here. I
want to stay here. I'm going to stay here."
"What about your work? You were
swamped with work when we were in
York
Digitronics? You said that you had to handle them personally." Cle's voice
wavered.
"So I did. The sooner we get back to
sooner I'll be able to handle them personally again, too." Dev crooned the
words into her ear.
"I'm not
going back to
Cle gulped, trying to keep her body stiff.
"Then I'll handle it with a few
phone conferences." Dev's index finger traced her cheek. "I've been
talking to people we've worked with before out here and they seem eager to
merge an office with ours. It would be good business on both sides."
"I won't be
manipulated."
"No. You generally manipulate
me," Dev observed.
"Me? You're
insane. When have I ever tried to manipulate you? Not once. Admit it."
Not giving Dev a chance to reply even as he opened his mouth to do so, she
rushed on. "And even if I tried, what a joke that would be. Can you just
see Lord Carstairs being pushed around by me?"
Dev's warm look hardened, but when Cle
would have backed away, his arm tightened on her shoulder. "You seem to be
a tiny bit obsessed with Lord Carstairs, my love. No matter how often I have
told you to forget that part of me you continue to bring it up. Can it be that
you have a fancy to be Lady Carstairs?"
Cle could feel her mouth opening and
closing, like a gaffed fish. "How dare you? What a fool you are to say
such a thing. I am an American citizen and that's good enough for me. Now you
let me go and don't you ever say such a thing to me again." Cle shoved at
him with a determined effort, rocking him hack enough to free herself. She
jumped to her feet and turned to face him. "You're a conceited ass. You
belong with Lady Clare and Clive and all those other phonies and even though 1
was your damned mistress for want of a more modern word, I'd never be your
damned wife. Do you think I'd sit still for you getting tired of me, listening
to your friends laugh about your 'Yankee' and laughing with them.... Well, you
can think again, Dev Carstairs. I wouldn't have you if you were gold
plated." A shuddering sob shook her. She swung away at a run. When she
reached her room, she slammed the door behind her.
Standing in the middle of the room, both
fists pressed to her mouth, she cursed Dev, she cursed herself for loving him.
"He's a sadist, a sadist. How dare he mention marriage to me knowing that
he didn't mean it? How could I ever think that I could love such a man? God, I
hate him." She threw herself face down on the bed. She wouldn't cry. She
would never cry about Dev Carstairs. She would root him out of her life. She
would stomp his memory to death.
She had no idea
how long she slept, but when she woke she had the feeling that she was on a
sinking boat. She felt smothered in water. The motion of the boat rocked her
body back and forth. She lifted her head from its place deep in the pillow and
the smothering feeling went away. Hands at her waist turned her onto her back
and the, rocking sensation stopped. It had been Dev shaking her awake. She
looked up at him through the wool of sleep.
"Time to get
dressed, Cle." His voice was soft but there was a reserve to it that Cle
recognized. Dev was behind his British barrier where none could penetrate.
"You
look like a little girl with the sleep still in your eyes. I don't think you'll
ever be old." The smile changed and he leaned back. After a few moments he
rose and crossed to the door, closing it softly behind him.
She decided to
wear a strapless blue cotton street-length dress. She peeled off her clothes
and put on the cotton wrap she wore to apply makeup. She was finishing her
face, adding a touch of pink gloss to her lips, when Dev walked into the room
without knocking. "Leave," she said hoarsely.
He ignored the command. "Toner
called again. I told him to get back to the States fast. If he persists in
coming around you, I'll break his damned neck for him." He pivoted and
left the room.
Cle looked at her openmouthed image, the
streak of lipstick running upward from the corner of her mouth where her
startled hand had smeared it. Wiping viciously at the mark, she wondered how
she ever had imagined that she could love a despot? How could she have ever
thought that that dry land piranha who stood six feet plus was charming? Witty?
More sexy than any other man in the world? She was going to see a good
psychiatrist as soon as possible!
She slipped into the pale blue strapless
dress. It was cotton but had the feel of silk. The wrap around style with a
Spanish ruffle hem that just touched the knee was more attractive on than it
looked on the hanger. She wore slings in pale blue hopsacking with high wooden
heels. She stared at her twin in the mirror. Who would have thought such a
simple looking cotton could have such a daring effect? She complimented Jaime
for the clever mind's eye that allowed him to see a creation totally before he
put it to paper, much less to needle and thread.
She put tiny dot pearls into her ears.
She was ready. Now if she could only find a matching baby blue .357 magnum
pistol, she'd be perfectly outfitted! For a moment her wry humor failed her and
she wallowed in self-pity as she pictured her struggle to keep Dev from knowing
of the emotional stranglehold he had on her.
When she strolled
into the lounge, she wasn't conscious that she had taken the model's stance as
a type of inner self-defense. Jaime had taught her to use that pose if a
customer made her very nervous.
Dev was standing at the bar in the
corner, a short glass of deep amber liquid swirling from the absorbed motion of
his hand.
Probably plotting
my murder, Cle thought, taking a breath and stepping down to the lounge.
Her sound or movement must have
penetrated Dev's deep thoughts, because he turned, his head lifting to look at
her in the same motion. Those green eyes lasered her from toe to eyebrow.
Cle saw the tightening of his lips, the
white bracketing of his mouth but he only inclined his head.
"Ready?"
"Yes."
He gestured for
her to precede him out of the apartment, then he followed her into the lift,
punching the button with a force that could have broken the circuit.
The car ride was
punctuated only by the traffic noises around them. Cle had the feeling that Dev
could hear every painful swallow she made.
Max's place was a very modern high-rise
apartment that had a view of the ocean and was reached by an outside elevator.
She longed to make some remark on the beauty of the
forestalled any small talk.