When Next We Love (7 page)

“Poor Leigh!” Derek taunted, rolling across to gaze down at her pityingly. “Doesn’t seem to be your night, huh?” He patted the bed invitingly. “Why don’t you give up this ridiculous charade of touch-me-not chastity and get back up here?”

“This isn’t a charade!”
Speechlessness deserted her as she shouted into his smugly leering face. “I don’t like you, Derek, is that so difficult to comprehend? I don’t want to be near you. I don’t want to be in this house and I particularly don’t want to be in your room and I especially don’t want to be in your bed! I—”

She was rudely interrupted as Derek’s hand clamped over her mouth. Then, with one swift movement, he was on top of her, and when he spoke, his eyes blazed into hers and his voice was a wrathful whisper.

“You,
Mrs. Tremayne, are a perpetual liar! When I kissed you earlier, love, you certainly responded. With amazing eagerness and expertise, I might add. Of course, you have had your share of practice.”

The scathing things she had to say in return were effectively muffled by the force of his hand on her mouth. She twisted her head and struggled and writhed in a frenzy of energy born of anger so intense it filled every nerve and limb of her body. All to no avail. Between the confinement of the sheets and his rock-muscled strength, she was helpless. All she accomplished was to bring them closer together, to dislodge more of the thin material that was all that separated them and bring more flesh against flesh.

Finally she lay still, spent, frustrated, and frightened of the growing heat between them. She closed her eyes, refusing to meet his. When she had been quiet for several minutes, he took his hand from her mouth. Yet he didn’t move. She opened her eyes imploringly.

“Derek, please, let me get out of here.”

Her answer was an unyielding stare.

“Damn it, Derek, you are a crazy man! Why are you doing this when your opinion of me is so poor? I might be contaminating!”

“I find you very desirable.”

“But you hate me!”

He shrugged. “Like you said, all black cats look alike in the dark.”

“I’m not your average black cat, remember? I was Richard’s wife, the cold, cruel mercenary.”

“Richard has been dead a long time.”

“And you still haven’t forgiven me!”

Derek went on as if he hadn’t heard her. “You responded to me, Leigh.”

“But I didn’t want to! Don’t you understand?”

“No, love, I don’t. There’s a chemistry between us. Nice and normal. Two consenting adults—”

“No!” Leigh was close to tears. Moisture gleamed on her eyelashes. “Please?” A sob caught in her throat. If he didn’t release her soon, she would be seduced by the nearness of him, by the raw masculinity she knew could become so demanding and possessing, yet tender. “Please, Derek.”

He sighed and rose nimbly to his feet, wrapping the sheet decorously around himself as he did so. He extended a hand to help her up. “Get back in bed,” he said. “There’s nowhere else to go, at the moment. The room keys are in the kitchen somewhere, and it could take me the rest of the night and half of tomorrow to find them without asking Emma or James where they are. None of the other rooms are made up. Emma believes in making up a bed fresh when a guest arrives.” He turned and stalked toward his closet.

“Where are you going?” Leigh asked hesitantly.

His back was to her and she saw his shoulders rise and fall in an unconcerned shrug. “It’s almost five. I’ll make myself some coffee.”

“Five? It can’t be!” Leigh exclaimed.

“Well, it is. I guess we both slept quite comfortably for some time before discerning one another’s presence.” He pulled a shirt and a pressed pair of jeans from the closet. Turning to glare at her impatiently, he added in a growl, “Go back to bed. Get some sleep.”

Leigh pushed a billowing strand of hair behind her shoulder and remained standing awkwardly. “No—no, Derek,” she stammered. “I’ll go back downstairs. This is your room.”

“Get in bed,” he said firmly. “Unless you want me to put you there.”

She hastened to obey. Their recent, bruising, crossed-swords encounter was too fresh in her mind to chance arguing further. Pulling her pillow to her chest, she watched as he obtained underwear from a drawer and headed for his bathroom, unwittingly admiring the span of his tanned shoulders as she did so. When the door had closed behind him, she glanced nervously about the room, focusing on the green luminescent face of a clock radio as she scanned it. It wasn’t almost 5:00
A.M
., it was only 4:30. She gnawed on a nail indecisively as she waited for him to reappear. When he did, she plunged quickly into stilted speech.

“Derek, I, uh, I really don’t feel right about kicking you out of your own bedroom. This bed is king-size, and we did sleep well for hours before discovering one another. I mean, we could both stay on a side and go back to sleep.” She shimmied as close as she could to the edge. “See?”

He laughed. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am.”

Rubbing his chin absently, he thought over her suggestion. Then he tossed the sheet he had been trailing to her. “Thanks. I’ll admit I’m not crazy about early hours.” He tossed off the sneakers he had just donned and crawled back into the bed, safely clad in his jeans and shirt. He switched off the light and settled in.

There was silence for a time and Leigh believed he slept. All that she could hear was their suddenly loud breathing and the howling of the wind. She curled into her pillow, but sleep wouldn’t come.

“Leigh?”

She would have feigned sleep, but his question in the darkness startled her so badly that she jumped.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

The gentle tone of his voice tore through her defenses as none of his harsh jeers could. The tears that had threatened before fell silently down her cheeks and she fought for control to reply.

“It’s all right.”

She felt his weight shift and then the touch of his finger on her cheek. She stiffened as his arm then came around her, drawing her to him.

“Don’t,” he said softly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He didn’t, but held her close instead, smoothing her hair with a lulling tenderness. She began to relax against him and her tears subsided. As the wind continued to howl, she drifted back into a contented sleep, dreaming again of white puffy clouds and a beautiful azure sea.

The sound of the wind, which had helped put her to sleep, also awakened her. She blinked the fuzziness from her eyes, yawned and stretched, and bolted up as she remembered the night. A quick look about assured her that Derek had arisen earlier and left her. At the foot of the bed lay the box with the second set of clothing he had purchased for her. She smiled with appreciation, then bounded to the window to strip away the curtains and view the action of the ferocious howling.

The sky was dead gray and the palms dipped so low from the screaming gusts that their thin, spidery leaves brushed the ground.

If they weren’t in for the full strength of the hurricane, they were still in for some rough weather. The pool, she saw, was being drained, and as she watched, a flurry of activity became apparent. She heard a multitude of masculine voices, among them Derek’s. The house was being battened down for the approaching storm.

She turned on the radio as she washed and dressed, hoping to catch a current advisory. She breathed a sigh of relief as she learned that Key West had been spared a direct hit; the hurricane had chosen a path across the central Keys and had taken its toll as far north as Marathon and Largo. It was now moving overland in a strange westerly pattern. It was hoped that it would wear itself out in the dense Florida Everglades, but warnings were up from Miami to Daytona and the north of the state was on hurricane watch.

Leigh tied back her hair and hurried downstairs. Even seeing it, she had not realized the brunt of the wind until she stepped out on the patio and was backed into the wall of the house. Aware now, she moved carefully across the pool area and out to the lawn, stripped now of all rattan and wicker furnishings. Looking up at the house, she saw that all the windows were. shuttered, including the huge plate-glass doors.

“What the hell are you doing out here?”

It was not the wind this time that forced her cruelly around but an irate Derek. His face reminded her of chiseled granite as she returned his glare rebelliously.

“Listen, Mallory, I know what I’m doing, I was born here. You’re the transplant.”

“Wonderful logic. Being a native gives you the right to be a fool.”

“You’re out here!”

“And I’m coming in as soon as we finish. Get back in the house!”

“I’m not on your payroll! You can’t tell me what to do!” she retorted. That his words made sense was irrelevant. His attitude was appalling.

Derek stared at her for a moment, noting the stubborn set of her chin. He opened his mouth as if to speak, shut it, then muttered, “Ah, hell!” The next second he tossed her over his shoulder like a limp sack of potatoes and walked her back into the house himself.

“Damn you!” Leigh sputtered when he had dumped her roughly on the parlor floor. “You’re nothing but a muscle-bound idiot! You can’t run around treating people like this. You will get yours one day!”

“But not from you, Leigh, so don’t worry about it,” Derek said stiffly, glaring down at her ignominious position with glittering eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, I was busy. Cheer up—maybe I’ll blow into the sea.”

He turned away from her lithely and strode from the room, leaving her on the floor. She scrambled quickly to her feet, knowing that he once again irked her into poor behavior. “I have to get out of here!” she muttered to herself. Nothing ever changed. They had slept together as friends, but the coming of the morning had cemented their enemy status.

Her stomach emitted a grumble and she realized she was hungry. The alluring scent of freshly brewed coffee led her to the dining room. As she poured herself a cup of the steaming brew from a silver pot, she frowned at the settings on the large mahogany table. There were four of them. She wondered curiously what other guests Derek had invited in the middle of a tropical storm.

“Leigh!” Her voice was called with deep and sincere affection and she turned to see Roger Rosello, the “Duke of Rose” as he was known with the band, the erstwhile drummer of the London Company.

“Roger!” she greeted him with equal pleasure. He was a slender man, short compared to the others at an even six feet, and very dark from a distant Spanish heritage. His disposition was eternally easygoing, and Leigh had always cared for him as she might an older brother had she had one. He kissed her unabashedly on the lips and held her at arm’s length to survey her, his dark eyes bright.

“You look great, kid, how are you doing?” he said, a grin splitting his strong features from ear to ear.

“Well, thanks.” Leigh smiled comfortably in return. “How’s life with you?”

“Can’t complain.” He let loose her shoulders to pour himself a cup of coffee and direct her to a chair. “We’ve been working like crazy. Keeping the group afloat with Richard gone—” He cut himself off and cast an apologetic grimace at Leigh. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Don’t be sorry, Roger. I’m used to talking about Richard.” She put a hand over his. “And he’s been dead a long time. You must know too that we weren’t in a state of marital bliss when it happened. But I think I look at things very objectively now. I learned a fair amount of bitterness from Richard, but I think of him fondly, not painfully. He was a brilliant man, and he also gave me a great deal of happiness. We all miss him sorely, but he is gone.”

“You are quite a lady, Leigh, you always were,” Roger said admiringly.

“Thanks!” Leigh took a sip of her coffee and changed the subject cheerfully. “So tell me—not that I’m not delighted to see you—but what are you doing here in the middle of a storm?”

“I have a place on Star Island now too. Derek called to tell me that you were here and invited me over. Kind of a hurricane party, I guess.”

“Oh?” Leigh raised delicate brows. “Who else is coming?” The other two original band members, Bobby Welles and Shane McHugh, also had homes in or around Miami to be near the recording studios. But she couldn’t imagine them coming over in the current weather. They both had wives and Bobby was the father of a two-year-old daughter.

She was surprised to see Roger looking uncomfortable again. “John Haley,” he said finally. In response to Leigh’s puzzled expression, he added, “You’ve met him a few times. He was with an American group until it split up last year. He’s an accomplished lead guitarist and flutist.” He watched his coffee cup instead of Leigh as he continued. “We wanted to stick with the original foursome. Derek wouldn’t think of replacing Richard at first. But you know”—he glanced up again with a rueful grin—“Richard and Derek were the talent behind the group. The rest of us are hangers-on. I don’t know if you’ve kept up with us at all, but the first album we cut without Richard was rough. Then we did a concert tour and everything fell on Derek. He was half dead when we finished. Anyway, we added John shortly after that.”

Leigh traced a circle around her cup and chuckled slightly. “Roger, quit apologizing. I’m glad you’ve hired John. If I remember correctly, he is very talented.”

“There you go, John.” The voice, coming from the doorway, was Derek’s. Beside him was the young man they had been discussing, John Haley. Leigh vaguely remembered meeting him on a few occasions, all of which had been pleasant.

“I told you,” Derek continued as the two entered the room and he moved to the coffee pot, “Leigh wouldn’t resent you for a second.” He handed John a cup of coffee and indicated the seat across from him as he climbed beside Leigh and gave her a brittle smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She’s not the type to carry, uh, grief too far.”

Leigh was sure that no one else caught his sardonic implication, but she mentally devised ways to manage dumping his coffee all over his lap as she smiled back. Then she turned to John with sincere welcome, ready to dispel the trepidation that lurked unhappily in his cool gray eyes. “I think it’s marvelous that you’ve joined the group, John. Richard admired you very much, and I’m sure he’d be happy to know that you were chosen.”