by Diana Palmer
“She wasn’t hurt,” he said curtly. “Just upset. But I had to go to her.”
Her, not his brother. She noticed the wording even if he didn’t. “Of course.”
He hesitated, which was unusual. “Elissa...”
She turned, forcing a smile. “Yes?”
“About last night...” he began slowly.
“Oh, yes. Last night.” She pulled off the emerald ring and, taking one of his hands, pressed it into the palm. She stared at his closed fingers, feeling their strength and warmth and remembering all too well how they felt on her bare skin. She closed her eyes and wanted to die of the shame. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
He took a sharp breath. What did she mean, what he wanted? For God’s sake, they’d made love. She’d told him she loved him. They were going to be married. So he’d brought Bess home—what else could he do? Surely, after what they’d shared the night before, Elissa didn’t think he was still struggling with a hopeless passion for his sister-in-law?
“What I wanted?” he shot at her angrily. “Did I ask for the damned ring back?”
“Don’t tell me the thought hasn’t crossed your mind,” she returned, staring at him accusingly. “I heard what Bess said, King,” she confessed. “About divorcing Bobby. And maybe it’s for the best. If they can’t get along, and the two of you are... Well, I’m sure it will all work out,” she added, lowering her eyes to his broad chest. The first few buttons were open, and involuntarily she wondered if Bess enjoyed touching him there as much as she did.
She turned away. She was about to burst into tears, and that would never do.
He stared at her as if she’d lost her senses. She’d agreed to marry him, and now she was backing out. Of course, he’d thought he wanted Bess, and now Bess was talking divorce. The obstacles to their union would be removed. And yes, he’d once thought he wanted that. But not now. Not anymore. He wanted Elissa, desperately, and here she was, throwing his ring back in his face. He felt suddenly, unreasonably angry.
“And what about you?” he demanded, hands on his hips.
Her chin lifted as she opened the door to her room. “What about me?” she asked curtly.
“You could be pregnant,” he said bluntly. He sounded as if he wanted to throw things, starting with her.
“If I am, it’s my problem, not yours.”
“To hell with that!” he burst out. “It’s my problem, as well, and don’t you forget it.”
His sense of responsibility, she thought miserably. “All right,” she said quietly. “But there probably won’t be a problem. I’d like to leave tomorrow.”
He had to take deep breaths. His eyes flashed at her. “So that’s it, is it? A quick one-night stand and you’re off? You agreed to marry me, remember?”
“That was before,” she threw back. “I don’t want to marry you anymore. I don’t want to become like Bess, tied to a man who doesn’t love her, who barely notices she exists! No, sir, not me. That isn’t what I want to do with my life. What kind of marriage would it be if every time Bess calls, you go running?”
“Bobby was injured,” he reminded her. “I had to go.”
“To her,” she agreed, lifting her head. “You didn’t even ask if I wanted to come. Bess needed you, so you went.”
“Of course I went,” he ground out with failing patience. His dark eyes flashed at her. “Bess falls apart in a crisis. And if my little brother can’t take care of her, I feel responsible for her,” he added, recognizing without quite realizing it that he was articulating what had been his own feelings all along. “Anyway, damn it, you aren’t making sense.”
“On the contrary, I’m finally making perfect sense. I’ve finally opened my eyes,” she snapped. “I can see what’s ahead, and I want no part of it. Bess is frail and helpless and needs protecting, is that right? And I’m tough and insensitive and I don’t need anybody?”
“That’s how it seems to me, lady,” he bit off, totally confused now and losing his temper. “You handle yourself just fine without help. You always have. You’re too damned independent.”
It wounded, but she smiled so that he wouldn’t see. “It beats begging people to notice you,” she said with a poisonous smile.
“When did you ever have to?” he demanded.
“The minute Bess got within thirty miles of you,” she shot back. “And if you’re bothered that I might die of love for you, you can forget that, too. I’m uninfatuated! Why don’t you go and let Bess cry on you some more? I’ve got packing to do.”
Elissa’s blind stubbornness was making him see red. “What will you tell your parents?” he asked coldly.
She took a deep breath. “That I got homesick. What else?” She closed the door behind her and, as an afterthought, locked it. When she heard him stomp off down the hall, she blushed at her own conceit. As if he’d try to come to her, with Bess so handy. She crawled onto her bed, still dressed, and cried until there were no tears left.
By morning, she’d salvaged a bit of her pride. She dressed in one of her own flamboyant creations, a stunning white pantsuit with a red silk blouse. She wore heels, as well—red, to match the blouse—and carried a stylish white purse. Her long hair was pulled back into a bun, her makeup carefully applied. She looked sleek and sophisticated, a woman of the world. The fantasy was finally real, but now that she had it, she no longer wanted it. She wore rose-tinted sunglasses to camouflage the ravages of tears.
But she was a trouper. She’d learned from her parents that it always got darkest just before the dawn, so she glittered like sunlight as she joined Bess and King at the breakfast table.
“Well, good morning, glories,” she bubbled, glancing from King’s dark, shocked face to Bess’s pale one. “Isn’t it gorgeous traveling weather? Margaret, I’ll just have toast and coffee, thanks. I don’t manage airplanes very well on a full stomach.”
Margaret sighed. “You’re still going, then?” she asked, revealing that she knew what was going on.
“Of course,” Elissa said brightly. “I made reservations a half hour ago. I’ve got two hours to get to the airport, and I’ve ordered a taxi to take me there. Fortunately Jack’s Corner is large enough to have one.”
“I’ll drive you to the airport,” King said curtly.
“You will not,” Elissa told him. She even smiled. “Don’t be silly. You’ll have to go to the hospital and see your brother.”
“I’m getting a divorce,” Bess said quickly to Elissa.
“Yes, I heard,” Elissa said, as if it didn’t bother her in the least. “It’s probably the best thing for both of you, too. I’m sure you’ll find someone much more attentive than your husband. He did seem rather too busy for you.”
“He works very hard,” Bess said defensively, and King glanced at her curiously.
Elissa only smiled. She thanked Margaret, who had deposited a cup of black coffee and two honey-brown pieces of buttered toast at her elbow.
“Do you have a headache?” King asked Elissa.
“Yes,” she replied, touching the sunglasses. “But nothing bad enough to prevent me from leaving, if that’s what’s bothering you.”
“For God’s sake!” He hit the table with his fist, and Bess jumped. “I haven’t asked you to leave!”
“Like hell you haven’t!” Elissa gave as good as she got, glaring across the table at him. “I’m not blind! I’m nothing more than an embarrassment to you now. You can’t wait to get rid of me!”
“I asked you to marry me!” he said shortly.
Bess’s eyes widened, and her mouth flew open.
“Marry you? I’d sooner have—have Blake Donavan!”
“Then go get him, honey. He’s available!”
She got up, shaking all over, wanting nothing more than to pick up a chair and hit him over the head with it. Black-eyed devil, sitting there as arrog
ant as king, bursting with bad temper. Well, hers was just as bad, and he wasn’t bulldozing over her ever again.
“Thanks, I might just do that,” she said, her voice shaking. She turned and stormed back upstairs to finish packing. She’d left the coffee and toast untouched, unable to bear seeing King and Bess together again.
Margaret came up to get her when the taxi arrived. “I wish you wouldn’t go,” she grumbled.
“I can’t fight her,” Elissa said simply. “He cares about her in a way he’ll never care about me. It isn’t something he can help.”
“But, honey, what about you?” Margaret asked gently, her eyes so caring that Elissa burst into tears and was gathered up like a child to be comforted. “There, there,” Margaret cooed. “He’ll come to his senses one day. Men get a little blind sometimes, and Bess has always been special to all of us. He’s a little sidetracked right now, but once he’s had time to miss you a little, he’ll be along—you mark my words.”
“Think so? I don’t.” Elissa wiped her eyes and nose on a handkerchief and crumpled it back into her purse before she readjusted her dark glasses. “There. Do I look terrible?”
“Not at all. Keep your chin up,” Margaret advised. “Don’t let them see you break down, even if you have to bite your tongue through. Poor Bobby, helpless in the hospital...”
“Poor Bobby may see the light if he can’t get to his business for once,” Elissa muttered. “What a pity he didn’t look sooner. He might have saved himself some heartache.”
“I suppose so. Well, you have a safe trip.”
“I will. Thank you for being so good to me.”
Margaret studied her quietly. “It’s easy to be good to nice people. I hope we meet again someday.”
“We probably won’t,” Elissa said, “but thank you for the wish.”
She grabbed up her carryall and started downstairs. When she reached the hall, she heard voices in King’s study. They stopped, quite suddenly, as she started past the open door, and a moan drew her attention. She glanced into the room and saw Bess in King’s arms, smiling up at him.
It hurt, if possible even more than what had already happened, and she hurried past the room to the front door.
“Who was that?” King said, frowning as he heard the front door slam.
He moved away from Bess to open the curtain and look out, just in time to see Elissa dive into the waiting cab and slam the door before it roared off down the driveway.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he grumbled. “I’ve got to go.”
“Must you?” Bess asked, uncertainty in the soft eyes that looked up at him. “We were just going to talk.”
“And we will. Later,” he replied. He let out a slow breath, sensing that she’d already come to the same conclusion that he had; that his near involvement with Bess had been a sense of responsibility and tender affection on his part and desperate loneliness on hers. They’d work it out later, he was sure, without any hard words being spoken. He touched her blond hair lightly. “You’re a lovely woman, Bess,” he said gently, “but I’ve got a bad case of the woman who just walked out the door.”
Bess sighed. “I guess I knew that already.” She looked up at him. “It’s just...well, I...” She faltered, trying to explain her own confused intentions.
“Don’t fret,” he said, smiling at her. “When I get back, we’ll have that nice, long talk, and then we’ll go see Bobby. Okay?”
She smiled wanly. “Okay.”
He got into the Lincoln and proceeded to set new speed records driving to the airport. Damn. Elissa had probably seen him with Bess and drawn all the wrong conclusions. He was going to have to do some fast talking to smooth over this misunderstanding. He could only imagine how much her conscience was smarting over what they’d done together. Vividly remembering, he went hot all over.
Almost two hours later, he caught up with Elissa while she was waiting to board her flight.
She looked up, her broken heart cracking all over again at the sight of him, ruggedly jean clad and visibly impatient. The image almost shocked her into smiling, but the pain was still too sharp. She didn’t get up. She sat there, her dark glasses in place, and looked at him as if he were some insect.
He sat down beside her, glancing at the flight attendants who were just entering the walkway to the plane. “I have to talk to you,” he said curtly.
“We’ve talked,” she said calmly.
“What you saw wasn’t what you think,” he began.
“Your private life is none of my business,” she said simply. “I’m not interested.”
“Will you listen,” he gritted. “We’ve only got a few seconds.”
“Then you’d better make your speech short,” she replied.
He drew in a steadying breath, gripping his temper tightly to keep it from exploding all over again. All in all, his patience was being sorely tried. He seized upon the first thing that came to mind. “If you won’t marry me, fine. But if you find yourself pregnant, I want to know immediately,” he told her. “Promise me this minute that you’ll get in touch with me, or so help me, I’ll phone your parents and tell them the whole sordid mess.”
Sordid. So that’s how he thought of it. Perhaps it was sordid. A little back-alley overnight affair that he’d forget soon enough when he and Bess were married. Her heart was breaking. She had only a little pride left, and it was in tatters. He knew that she loved him, and that hurt most of all.
“I’ll get in touch if anything happens,” she said finally, the words dragged from her. “And in case you’re afraid I’ll be eating my heart out over you, save your pity. Whatever I felt for you, it certainly wasn’t love.”
He stiffened and felt himself going cold. “That’s a lie,” he said, his voice quiet and deep.
“Love isn’t part of sordid affairs,” she said, her voice starting to break. “That’s all it was, just a...a cheap little roll in the hay!”
“No,” he said softly, his eyes fierce. “Never that.”
She turned away, clutching her bag. They were calling the first-class passengers aboard. She was next. She got to her feet. “I have to go.”
He caught her arm, but she moved away and wouldn’t look at him. “Elissa, damn it...”
“I have to go,” she repeated. “So long, cowboy.”
“For God’s sake, will you listen to me?” he demanded, oblivious to the curious stares they were getting as they faced each other.
“No.” She laced the single word with mocking contempt, and her blue eyes dared him to make her change her mind.
He let go of his temper with a word that turned her ears red, and she walked away without looking back. He took off his hat and slammed it to the floor, damned it to hell, damned her with it and stomped back down the concourse. Let her go. What did he care? She didn’t love him—she’d said so. It was just a “cheap little roll in the hay.” His dark eyes got darker, and his pride felt lacerated at her careless reference to the most beautiful experience of his entire life.
Still cursing, he came home hatless and ran head-on into Margaret, who looked like an entire invading army about to launch an attack. “So you ran her off, did you?” Margaret glared at him. “Congratulations. The first woman who ever cared anything about you and not your money, and you get rid of her. I don’t know what’s come over you. And here’s Bobby’s wife, and—”
“Shut up!” King threw at her, his eyes dangerous.
“Jackass!” she tossed off. “You don’t cow me! Maybe Bess is scared stiff of you, but I ain’t!”
He glared back at her. “What do you mean, scared stiff of me?”
“She took off upstairs the minute she saw you walk in the door. And she never once opened her mouth at the breakfast table when you and Elissa got into it.” She harrumphed. “That poor little thing’s got no spirit at all. Not like Elissa. You’d have Be
ss crawling in a month’s time, if she didn’t cut and run first. Or don’t you remember what a hell of a mean temper her father had when he drank? Of course, you can control yours, most of the time, but that child is carrying deep scars. A man like you is the last thing she needs!”
As if he hadn’t realized that already, he thought furiously. Elissa was gone, and he felt sick, and here was Margaret, giving him hell. He glared at his housekeeper with black frustration.
“And where’s your hat?” she demanded.
“At the airport,” he retorted. “Catching mice.”
“Your hat probably could,” she muttered. “It would have to be pretty damned mean to sit on you!”
He sat down with a cup of black coffee, which he wished were whiskey. He felt empty and hollow and cold. Bess was still upstairs, and he thought about what Margaret had said. Perhaps Bess was afraid of his temper, he thought idly. But Elissa wasn’t, he recalled with a faint smile. She was more than equal to his angry outbursts, most of the time. She was equal to him in other ways, too. He closed his eyes and saw her, felt her, as she was that night, her body lifting to his, her eyes wild and passionate, moaning as he held her to him, crying out his name in aching fulfillment.
He got up, his body on fire. Bess paused at the doorway, hesitating. He glanced at her. She was blonde and beautiful, but when he looked at her, he saw only Elissa’s laughing blue eyes and black hair.
“Well?” he asked curtly.
She hesitated. “Are you angry with me?” she asked.
The harshness left his face. She was a child, after all, in so many ways. He went to her, taking her gently by the shoulders, smiling.
“No, of course I’m not,” he said gently. “I couldn’t stop Elissa. She thinks I’m out of my mind over you and that you’re leaving Bobby to marry me. I couldn’t make her listen, and I’m frustrated, that’s all.”
“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” she asked, searching his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was so lonely. And you took me places and talked to me and even listened,” she added with a wistful smile. “I guess I got drunk on attention. But I’m sorry if I’ve messed up your life.”