But no, he preferred to engage in combat with action figures dressed in nerve-jarring blue and green and armed with lances, hatchets and guns of every type. She assumed the figures lying abandoned on their faces were the ones that had already perished in this brief-but-deadly war. With bright eyes and intent expression, Danny vigorously attacked Gabe’s forces.
Dana settled on the sofa. Neither male gave any sign of being aware of her presence. The combat raged unabated while she sipped her coffee. She felt left out, ignored, and she didn’t like it.
“Your coffee’s getting cold,” she told Gabe.
“I’ll get it in a moment,” he said without looking up.
He could have thanked her for bringing it, but he probably took it for granted. After all, didn’t all women make coffee? Now she was being unfair. He’d fixed his own coffee for years.
She was being unfair because she felt excluded. The men obviously weren’t going to sit on the sofa. She actually considered getting down in the floor with them but changed her mind. This was Gabe’s time, his chance to build a rapport with Danny. They would soon have do without her all the time.
That thought made her even more depressed.
The battle escalated as Danny and Gabe brought up the reserves. With a battle figure in each hand, they couldn’t manipulate the swords and other weapons. They just banged their warriors into each other. Dana thought it a crazy game. They loved it.
She considered asking them to play something more civilized, but changed her mind. And as much as she didn’t understand it, this raging war seemed to be doing more to bring them together than anything Gabe had done so far.
Gabe used his man to pin Danny’s man to the floor. The little boy tried everything he could, but he wasn’t strong enough to push Gabe away. Dana started to speak up. She didn’t think Gabe should use his obviously greater strength like that.
Just then Danny abandoned his defeated warrior, got to his feet and launched himself at Gabe. The two of them went over in a heap, Danny virtually disappearing in a tangle of Gabe’s arms and legs.
Instinct caused Dana to rise half out of her chair, to want to pull Danny back to safety, to tell Gabe to be careful, to stop wrestling. A man his size could seriously hurt a child as small as Danny.
Danny’s laughter caused her to pause. He wasn’t fighting Gabe, he was trying to tickle him. Gabe tickled him back, and Danny shrieked with happiness. They rolled around on the floor like two puppies. At first Dana sat on the edge of her chair, worried Gabe might accidentally hurt Danny. But after a moment she relaxed. Gabe exercised great care, and Danny appeared happier than he’d been since his mother died. She guessed this was an example of that mysterious male bonding Mattie said Danny needed. Dana just wished Mattie had thought to explain how it worked. She didn’t have any brothers. She’d never have guessed their rituals could be so crazy.
She settled back to wait until Danny got tired enough to stop. He would play as hard as he could then suddenly stop, exhausted. It wasn’t long before he collapsed on Gabe’s chest.
“Give up?” Gabe asked.
“No,” Danny said, but he just lay there, his little chest going up and down.
Gabe tickled Danny again. But when he didn’t respond, Gabe stopped. “I’m thirsty,” he said. “Time for a water break.”
“Me thirsty, too,” Danny said without moving.
Gabe sat up and set Danny next to him. “How about some orange juice?”
“Juice,” Danny said.
Dana started to mention the coffee cooling on the table next to her then changed her mind.
Gabe stood up. “You’re a mess,” he told Danny. “Your shirttail is out.”
“Yours, too,” Danny said.
“I’ll have to fix that.” He stood and tucked his shirttail in. Danny got to his feet and tried to do the same thing. Gabe had to help him. “Ready for that juice?” Gabe asked.
“Yup,” Danny replied.
The two of them headed off to the kitchen, Danny doing his best to match his steps to Gabe’s.
If she hadn’t seen it, she wouldn’t have believed it, but wrestling in the floor had accomplished something nothing else had. Clearly little boys needed dads. When that was impossible, a kind uncle would do.
But what about little girls?
It had been a long time since Dana had asked herself that question. Nothing she did—had ever done—managed to capture her father’s attention for more than a few minutes. He paid the most outrageous bills for college, clothes, travel, anything she wanted, without a blink as long as it left him free to focus all his attention on what he loved most, the job of making money. His wife didn’t appear to want or need anything else from him. He didn’t understand why Dana should be any different.
So Dana had told herself she didn’t want anything, didn’t need anything, could do quite well by herself. And she had. Making shameless use of every contact she’d ever made in school, college and summer vacations, she worked tirelessly to build her antique business into one of the most important firms in the New York area. Finally her father noticed. His praise made her so happy she devoted even more time to her job, hoping for more praise, more attention.
When Mattie had come to live with her, she needed support in the aftermath of learning she was pregnant, being deserted by her lover and discovering she couldn’t go home. Next came the preparations for Danny’s birth, the first months afterward, the last terrible month of Mattie’s illness. Sometime during those three years Dana’s business ceased to be the center of her life. As Mattie’s crisis approached, Dana’s business actually became an unwanted intrusion.
During Danny’s illness she’d virtually ignored it.
Now all of her responsibilities were about to come to an end. She would be free to devote all her time once more to her work. Her partner would be happy. Her parents would be happy. She ought to be happy.
So why wasn’t she?
Chapter Ten
Gabe woke with a start. He raised himself on his elbow then fell back on the bed. He’d been having another dream. It might as well have been a nightmare. It drained him just as completely. He’d been making love to Dana…rather he’d been trying to make love to her. But every time he got close, held her in his arms and lay down on the bed next to her, the dream would shift and she’d be out of range again. It seemed the harder he tried, the more quickly she moved away.
Escaped was probably a better word. It’s certainly what she would have done if he’d really tried to make love to her.
A film of perspiration covered his body. The sheets stuck to his back, the pillow to his cheek. He rolled over and looked at the clock—2:37 a.m. and he hadn’t gotten a half an hour’s good sleep. He’d be so groggy tomorrow he wouldn’t be safe to be around. He’d have to avoid machinery, stick to sanding and varnishing.
If he didn’t mess that up.
He blamed it all on Dana. If she weren’t sleeping on the other side of that wall, if she weren’t such a beautiful, desirable woman, he wouldn’t be lying awake suffering the tortures of the damned. Of course, he had to accept some blame. Only a fool would let himself get this worked up over a woman he knew he couldn’t have. A woman he shouldn’t even want.
No, he couldn’t buy that. He and Dana had their differences, but she was certainly a woman worth having. She just wasn’t the woman for him. She’d been cute and fun even as a little girl. But she remained too far distant in age, preference and worldly situation to be more than a visitor in their small community.
Even after he stopped blaming her for keeping Mattie from coming home, from trying to make peace in the family, he knew Dana was the wrong woman for him. She could never fit into his life. No matter how much he might love her, or she him, he would lose her, just like Ellen. He’d lost too much already—his sister, his father, his wife. He’d never wanted to take a chance on losing again.
Then three days ago Dana walked back into his life, and everything changed.
She
wasn’t a girl anymore. Nothing about her said she was too young, too innocent. She had developed into a woman in her gorgeous prime, with a great body and a style of clothing that accentuated every nice curve and line she had. And she had a lot. He didn’t dare allow himself to count them. He’d done that last night when he couldn’t sleep. After half an hour, he’d had to get up and take a cold shower.
He could have survived his physical reaction to her better if she’d been the spoiled, selfish, temperamental, success-driven female shark he’d made her out to be. She wasn’t anything like that. With that realization, his wall of defense started to crumble.
She’d been a steadfast friend to Mattie. Not many people would have taken his sister in when she was pregnant and made her child a part of their life. Not even Gabe’s prejudice could deny that Dana truly loved Danny. That had been the last and greatest breach in his defenses. No woman who could love Danny as much as she did could be all bad. He could only guess how hard it must be for her to give him up. Yet she was doing her best to allow him to build a relationship with Danny.
Now that was a woman of character, a woman a man could admire.
Only he didn’t want to admire her. He especially didn’t want to like her. And he’d best remember she was a confirmed career woman, independent and opinionated as all get-out. She had only consented to be married temporarily, to keep Danny from being given to his natural father. She hadn’t shown any desire to marry Gabe or any interest in the kind of life he could give her.
He flipped over in the bed. He hated sticky sheets. Maybe if he put the air conditioner on and lowered the thermostat to fifty, he could at least keep dry. Maybe, but he’d probably give Danny pneumonia.
He sat up in bed. This wasn’t working, but he couldn’t move out. That would blow the whole scheme. If he explained his desperation, maybe Matt would give him some sleeping pills.
No, he couldn’t explain anything to anybody, not even to the family doctor. If only his marriage wasn’t a pretense…. That thought sent his temperature back through the roof. Why did he even think that? Dana didn’t want to marry him. He didn’t want to marry Dana.
Did he?
No, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like he was being turned on a spit. With a muttered curse, he got out of bed. He fumbled in the drawer for dry underwear. He’d take a shower. If that didn’t work, maybe he’d go for a walk. He stepped out into the hall and came face-to-face with Dana.
“What are you doing up?” she asked. Shock showed in her face, sounded in her voice.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Moonlight poured in from one end of the long hall, from the other came light from the street lamp. Neither was very strong, but they were quite sufficient for Gabe to see Dana wore baby-doll pajamas made from a nearly sheer material. He thought he could see the dark brown circle of her nipples.
Her presence had an immediate effect on his body. Only then did he remember he was wearing a pair of jockey shorts and nothing else. He had about ten seconds before his condition would be easily visible even in the dim light.
“Neither could I. I thought I’d get a drink of water,” she said.
“There’s ice water in the fridge.”
“It’s not good for you to drink ice water in the middle of the night.”
It would be good for him.
“What were you going to do?” she asked.
He casually tried to position the dry clothes strategically. He couldn’t tell her he needed a cold shower. She’d know why. “I sweated through my underclothes. I need another shower.” He started backing toward his room. “You go first. Just yell when you’re done.”
“It’ll only take a second.”
“I’ll wait.”
He ducked inside his bedroom. Sweat had broken out on his forehead. His temperature had risen at least ten degrees. His body was as hard as a rock and miserably uncomfortable. He kept visualizing Dana in those damned baby-doll pajamas. Hell, she might as well have been naked. If she had been even half as nervous he was, she didn’t show it. So much for thinking himself the man of the world and her the naive little girl he had to protect. It looked as if he was the one who needed protection. Or at least help. A little more of this, and he would be a basket case.
Maybe if he spent less time with Danny he wouldn’t think about her so much. No. If he did that, he couldn’t build the rapport with Danny he wanted. But he had to come up with something. He’d never survive two months of this.
“I’m done,” Dana called. She stood in the doorway to his room, her image as tantalizing as before.
“Maybe you should think about having that bathroom put in,” she said.
“I’ll see about it first thing tomorrow.” But that wouldn’t help as long as she wandered about half-nude.
“Well good night.”
“Night.”
He waited until he heard the door to her room close. Then he went straight to the shower and turned the cold water on full force.
But that didn’t solve the problem any more than the short walk afterward. He returned to his bed as hot and restless as before. The longer he tossed and turned, the more irritable he became. He felt cornered, with nowhere to go. He felt intruded on. His home, his sanctuary had been invaded, taken over, turned into a torture chamber instead of a place to relax and unwind. He felt resentful, stressed out and sexually frustrated. And for the time being he didn’t see any way out.
Dana listened to the silence of the big house and felt very much alone. Gabe had gone to the shop before she got up. He’d left a note saying he’d fallen behind in his work and wouldn’t be home until late. It hadn’t surprised her. Mattie said Gabe was a slave to his work. It did surprise her that she missed having him at the table. So did Danny.
“Where Gabe?”
If he’d asked that once, he’d asked it a dozen times before he managed to finish his breakfast. She’d had to scramble an egg. Cereal wouldn’t do anymore. She managed to avoid the bacon, but she suspected Danny knew she’d left something out. He’d probably figure out what by tomorrow morning, and she’d been in for a high cholesterol breakfast for the rest of her marriage.
That word hit her like a brick. She was married. Even though they both intended it to be temporary. Gabe was her husband. Legally she was Mrs. Gabriel Purvis.
She’d keep her name. That would raise a lot of eyebrows in town, but not half as many as their divorce. She and Gabe had decided it would be best never to tell anyone that the marriage had been arranged. Just let them think things had gone as badly as with Gabe’s first marriage. It bothered her to have him bear the onus of the divorce, but he’d insisted he wanted it that way.
She’d spent the first hour after dropping Danny off at day care doing their laundry and straightening up their rooms. She’d never done that before—either Mattie or the cleaning service had always taken care of it for her—but she found an unexpected sense of satisfaction in the work. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d made her bed, but she never considered leaving Gabe’s bed unmade. She’d looked in his bedroom after he’d gone. You couldn’t tell anyone had used it. He’d even put his shoes in the closet.
Just touching Gabe’s clothes seemed to forge an intimate connection between them. Whether socks, work pants, or underclothes, the effect remained unchanged. She knew she was being silly, but her body refused to be sensible. By the time she got everything sorted, washed and in the dryer, she felt exhausted. He’d have to fold them and put them away himself.
Looking into the various rooms of the house, even straightening up, made her self-conscious. She couldn’t forget she was in Gabe’s house, using his things. The connection grew stronger by the minute.
In all the years she’d spent dating other men, twice coming close to being engaged, she’d never given much thought to what a difficult adjustment marriage must be. She had discussed where to live, how to mesh careers, where to spend Christmas vacation, but never the little things that struck her wit
h such force now. Bedspreads and curtains that didn’t match. Towels and shower curtains of different colors. The choice of where to place rugs, hang pictures, arrange furniture.
It must be difficult for one partner to move into the other partner’s house. One would feel intruded on, the other feel slightly out of place. But at least they had love to hold them together, the knowledge that they were making decisions, sacrifices, compromises toward building the foundation of their future together.
She had none of that in this marriage of convenience. She could only compare it to an extended hotel stay. She might rearrange a few things to make it more comfortable, but nothing really mattered because it wouldn’t last.
Every room of the house seemed to repeat that message like a mantra. Gabe’s furniture seemed to accuse her most loudly. These were the solid, often unadorned, functional, possessions of a man’s life—furniture created for real people, to be beautiful as well as serve a purpose, not something ornamental or designed to draw attention. Everything seemed to say that this was real, that her antiques were only art forms reflecting fickle fashion, imitations of life, only skimming the surface.
Dana retreated to the den, the room least identified with Gabe. Except for the deer’s head above the fire-place. Why did he have to desecrate the lovely walnut surround with the head of a dead animal? She tried to read, but she couldn’t concentrate. That animal stared at her out of lifeless eyes. She straightened the room twice, straightened it a third time to restore it to the way Gabe had it when she moved in. But she couldn’t get her mind off that hideous head. Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer. She would go to Gabe and ask him to let her remove it.
Making that decision relieved the pressure. At first she thought it was due to the hope she could talk Gabe into taking the head down, at least until she returned to New York. Next she thought her feeling of relief might be due to getting out of the house. Until she’d come to Iron Springs, she never had time to sit still and do nothing. She didn’t have a real link to anybody in this town except Gabe. She felt like a stranger in the midst of a family reunion.
Married by High Noon Page 12