When Next We Love (11 page)

“That’s it! I love it!” John Haley decided jubilantly.

“And now …” Derek sipped at his warm glass and brushed at the mustache that no longer existed. “We need one for Leigh.”

“But I’m not with the group!” she cried.

“You will be,” he corrected. “For the next album.”

“True! True!” Roger delightedly tapped on the aluminum table. “Maybe the Wizardess of Oz?”

“No!” John protested quickly, and Leigh saw by the glance he exchanged with Roger that he was reminding him Leigh now belonged with Derek. “No, Leigh should have her own special name.”

“Wonder Woman?” Roger tried.

“Ugh!” from Leigh.

“There’s always the Black Widow,” Derek proposed innocently. “But actually, I have a better one, The Lady of the Lake. Medieval and quite fitting too, considering Leigh is only truly happy in or around water.”

Leigh shrugged and downed the tail end of her drink. The peculiar look Derek continued to give her was making her terribly uneasy. If she were an animal, she would be sniffing the air for danger.

“Sounds good,” she said, suppressing a faked yawn. “I think I will go up now, if you all don’t mind.” Without meaning to, she glanced at Derek for his approval, wincing inwardly at the amusement and spark of triumph that sped briefly through his eyes.

“I’ll walk you up,” he offered.

“You don’t really need to,” Leigh demurred. If she could only move quickly enough … She planted a light kiss on top of his head and waved jauntily to Roger and John. “You all stay and talk!” She scampered into the house, confident that Derek would not follow now.

But he did. He was knocking at her door even as she closed it.

“What, Derek,” she moaned, throwing it back open to admit him.

“I just wanted to tell you good night and”—he leaned against the door with sardonic amusement—“good show.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” she jeered.

“Umm …”

“Well good night and thank you.” Her sarcasm ruffled him not at all. He continued to watch her, curiously, as if he had seen something new. Then he chuckled. “Good night … me lass!”

He left, closing the door with a snap behind him.

“What ails that man?” Leigh wondered aloud irritably as she bolted the door uneasily. She shook her head with disgust and changed into a shirt with little thought. She was so tired! She had been at Derek’s for less than forty-eight hours and he had totally exhausted her.

Yet sleep, when she had tucked herself into the four-poster, was hard to come by. Her eyes kept flying open as her mind raced on.

Derek was blatantly oat for revenge. And in a way she understood his feelings. She could well remember the way Richard could tell a story, the way he could make you almost believe it was night when it was day. And she, like a fool, had fostered Derek’s belief in her coldhearted infidelity by her impulsive angry words.

At moments, she thought wistfully, Derek honestly wanted her. She instinctively knew when his touch was sincere. But, and she hardened her heart, Derek honestly wanted a number of attractive females. He was a womanizer, like Richard.

Games. All they did was play games together. Hers had been one of unrequited love and desire; his was based entirely on bittersweet revenge. He was making all the plays; as yet, she had hardly had a turn.

But the chance for her move would come. And when it did she asked herself wryly, which way would she turn?

“Y
OU’RE A LUCKY GIRL,
Leigh. Like those model types in the soap operas who manage to waken in perfect form.”

Leigh rapidly blinked the sleep from her eyes to stare wrathfully at the figure casually seated, hands around knees, at the foot of her bed.

“How did you get in here?”

“Key, of course. I own the house, remember,” Derek replied.

“Good,” she told him curtly. “Go find somewhere else in your house to sit!” She turned her back on him and added, “I thought it would take you a day and a half to find the key.”

“So it would, except Emma found it for me.”

Traitor! Leigh thought silently. “Could you go away, please? I’d like to go back to sleep.” She pointedly closed her eyes.

“What? More sleep? You’ve already slept half the day away!” Derek proclaimed, ripping her covers rudely from her. “Come on downstairs, my love, we’re having a party and you’re the hostess for the day.”

The drapes went flying open and Leigh blinked again, painfully, as she forced her lids up and acknowledged from the angle of the sun streaming through the window that it was late in the day. She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. “Go have your party without me.”

“No way, love. It’s a work party.” His voice had taken on a crisp and authoritative edge. “Get your sweet body up and moving. My office.”

Leigh jumped up seething as her door slammed after his exit. She had had just about enough of Derek Mallory. She glanced out the window with narrowed eyes. The sun was brilliantly shining; only a slight breeze whispered through the foliage.

She was getting off Star Island, this morning, alone.

Determined, she showered and flung open the closet door to find the beige suit that she had worn the night before. It was gone. In its place hung a new assortment of clothing—blouses, pants, and three dresses. It infuriated her further to realize that someone had been very busy in her room while she had thought she was sleeping in privacy.

But if she wanted to leave the room, she had to dress. She chose jeans and a short-sleeved gold-threaded blouse, a comfortable outfit for a drive. Then she moved purposefully down the stairs. She didn’t expect to find her own car waiting outside, but if Derek had arranged a “party,” then the phones had to be in order and the bridge passable. She would call a cab, and fly back home. The Audi could be picked up later, when Derek had tired of his game.

The receiver was wrenched from her hand before she had dialed the first number.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derek demanded hotly. He must have moved like an Indian into the parlor, she hadn’t heard a sound.

“Leaving.”

“The hell you are!” Derek propelled her toward his office. “Shane and Bobby are here. We’re going to work.”

They did work, for hours. Derek barely allowed her a cup of coffee before they began, which startled no one. He was a strict taskmaster, which they all knew, yet he demanded nothing of anyone he wouldn’t give himself. Leigh knew that he was most rigid on concert tours, when he jogged five miles a day and refused even a glass of wine with dinner.

They broke late in the afternoon, and when they did, Leigh was trapped thoroughly in a way Derek must have known she would be. Blue-eyed Shane McHugh and eloquent Bobby Welles were, if possible, more enthusiastic about the project than Roger and John had been. They, too, insisted that Leigh must be a part of her own work. Bobby filled her head with images of videodiscs and Shane suggested that they could film a complete program to be sold to various subscription television networks.

“Of course, Leigh,” Derek said with sickening sincerity, a look of understanding sympathy on his face that should have won an Emmy, “we will not force you to join us. We can always hire Samantha Downing to do the female harmonies and sections.”

Leigh tensed in her chair, but smiled brightly. She would never let Derek know how deeply his barb had struck. Samantha Downing was a singer with a voice like a crystal angel. She had also been one of Richard’s first outside “affairs.” Did Derek know that?

“That won’t be necessary,” Leigh said. Derek had sprung another trap, but in this instance her pride forced her to walk into it open-eyed. She batted shy, conniving lashes. “Since you all are willing to bear with my inexperience, I’ll thank you for your patience and enjoy the ride!”

It was the perfect response. The cluster of males, minus Derek, hastened to scurry to her and assure her they were more than willing to be as patient and helpful as she would need.

The real party, which followed their rehearsal, was an enjoyable occasion, even though Leigh knew that all present were secretly mulling over the new relationship between her and Derek with glee. What could be more fitting? Derek, caring for his best friend’s widow. Leigh, who knew them all, who loved and understood music, with Derek …

Angela McHugh and Tina Welles had come over with Shane and Bobby and Bobby’s little girl, Lara. Emma and James were off for the evening since Miami and the Beach had recovered quickly from the effects of the storm. They had, Derek informed Leigh as he escorted her into the kitchen to assist Angie and Tina, made a cute couple as they left for a dinner at Joe’s Stone Crab, the proper Englishman and the plump American matron.

“The boys are barbecuing,” Angie said as she gave Leigh an alarmingly happy hug. “So we’re throwing together some salad and wrapping up some ears of corn.”

It was easy, Leigh thought, as she chatted with Angie and Tina, to remember how nice it had been when they had all gotten together. She and the other two wives had become fast friends as had their husbands; they had enjoyed the times when they had been able to meet as a group, any set of normal couples leisurely whiling time away with amiable company.

The conversation between the women was general at first. Little Lara tottered among them, lisping but sweet as she broke in occasionally with her childish voice. She was a beautiful little girl, Leigh thought with a pang, but then she had beautiful parents. Beautiful, happy parents. Bobby Welles, she knew, could be set in the middle of a bevy of naked beauties and he wouldn’t notice a one of them. He adored Tina. They had the kind of marriage Leigh had believed that she and Richard would have.

And it was beautiful raven-haired Tina who dropped their bantering chatter to demand, “Why didn’t you keep in touch with us, Leigh? Angie and I both wrote …”

Leigh raised her hands helplessly. A painful spasm ripped suddenly through her muscles. For a moment she saw their last meeting clearly in her mind, like the slow-motion, brightly colored replay on a television set. Richard lay in an oak box while the birds sang and the sun shone; Derek stood beside her, though distant, a pillar of strength. Tina, Angie, Roger, and the others and a host of strangers to mourn the passing of a brilliant star moved by them, tears in their eyes, unspoken sympathy showing in their drawn faces.

Then they were all gone. All except her and Derek, and Richard between them in the dirt. Then Derek had broken. The towering, proud giant broke and tears came streaming down his face. Leigh tried to comfort him despite the gulf that lay between them. But he wanted nothing from her, he told her in no uncertain terms. She was, he railed, anger and hate returning his strength, a witch, a lying, hypocritical witch. He had had a few more choice words for her before turning on his heel abruptly and leaving.

“I—I needed some time,” Leigh said lamely. Roger, as did Derek, had known trouble had stirred between Leigh and Richard. But even he hadn’t known about the impending divorce.

“Sure,” Tina said, her voice husky. “But time does heal all wounds.”

“Hey!” Angie declared, sweeping little Lara into her arms. “If we don’t get this corn out we’ll never eat! And I’m starving!”

“Starvin’!” repeated little Lara with round eyes.

Leigh chuckled and reached for the little girl, softly touched by the feel of her chubby hands. Would she ever hold such a wonderful bundle of love of her own? It was doubtful. She would be twenty-eight on her next birthday, not old—certainly!—but time was passing by.

“I’m starvin’ too, Lara! Let’s go hurry your daddy,” Leigh said.

As the night wore on, Derek continued in his subtle ways to give the impression that he and Leigh were now a twosome. Tina and Angie would sometimes glue their heads together in soft conversation, and Leigh supposed they were happily considering the chances of a second marriage. She wanted to laugh bitterly. What would they think, she wondered, if she were to stand and calmly announce that Derek didn’t give a damn for her, that the whole charade was some type of malicious revenge?

They would think she was crazy. Derek was displaying his complete, suave animalistic charm. He was devastating in the starlight, his jeans tight over his trim hips, his shirt casually unbuttoned and showing the breadth of his deep bronze chest When he spoke and smiled, his teeth would flash white and perfect against his rugged jawline, his eyes would sparkle like gold against the copper of his strong features. His fingers often touched upon Leigh, awakening her every nerve, sending her into chills of trembling each time.

What if … she began to ask herself, what if she went along with his little game. How would he react if she pounced upon him in return, became in public the loving mistress he pretended her to be? She would certainly throw him off, and perhaps find out just what part this mock tenderness played in his ultimate plan.

She didn’t have the nerve! She could act all she wanted, but Derek had the strength. He had the power, because he cared nothing for her while she … was going to do it!

She would beat Derek Mallory at his own game!

She might wind up shattered later, but he would never know it. He wanted to think of her as a conniving little cheat, well, by golly, that was exactly what he was going to get. He had said he desired her. When she finished with him, he was going to go crazy with his desire. He wanted everyone to think they were together, she would verify that reasoning. And then she would turn on him, as he had turned on her.

She began with the subtlety he employed himself, fingering his hair as she jauntily checked on the barbecue, pretending to massage his back when he chanced to sit near her, even going so far as to pat his firm rear end when he passed her on his way to the cooler for another beer.

His stunned response left her hard put not to burst into gales of laughter. Unfortunately, her triumph didn’t last long. Derek learned to stifle his surprise and in return dropped all pretense of subtlety. She learned abruptly that the tide had changed when she teasingly caressed his neck, only to be drawn into a long and barely controlled kiss, enjoyed with relish by the entire company.