Strange Bedfellow

by Janet Dailey

  It was shortly after midmorning by the time Blake and Dina finished their breakfast and started out on a leisurely tour of the island, dotted with freshwater ponds. It was not the first visit for either of them, but it had been several years since their last.

  There was little noticeable change on the island, with the possible exception that a few more trees had been planted by property owners. The young saplings looked forlorn in a landscape that was remarkably devoid of trees. Early settlers had long ago cut down the native ones for lumber to build their homes. Reforestation was a new and slow process.

  Stone fences crisscrossed the rolling terrain. The rocks had been deposited on the island by glaciers from the Ice Age and stacked, probably long ago by slave labor, to erect property boundaries of early farms. They were a picturesque touch on the island, called by an early Italian navigator God’s Little Isle.

  On the southeastern shore Blake parked the car on Mohegan Bluffs. The picture-postcard lighthouse sat on the point of the bluffs, the rustic house and tower looking out to sea. Its navigational beacon was one of the most powerful on the New England coastline.

  The salty breeze off the ocean was cool. Dina zipped the coral windbreaker up to her neck while Blake locked the car. Screeching seagulls soared overhead as they walked together past the lighthouse to the steep path leading down the headland to the beach.

  A fisherman stood knee-deep in the surf, casting a fly line into the whitecaps. He nodded a friendly acknowledgment to them as they strolled by. Blake’s arms was around Dina’s shoulders, keeping her close to his side. She stepped over a piece of driftwood and turned her gaze up to his face. His features were relaxed with a look of contentment about them.

  “Why are we getting along so well?” she mused, more to herself than to him.

  “Maybe it’s because we’ve stopped looking at each other,” Blake suggested.

  “What?” A bewildered frown creased her forehead, confusion darkening the blue of her eyes.

  “It does sound a bit strange, doesn’t it?” A faint smile touched his mouth when he glanced at her, then he directed his gaze ahead of them, a contemplative look about his expression. “What I think I mean is that we’ve stopped trying to see the flaws in each other, the differences. We’ve started looking outward together.”

  “Do you suppose that’s it?” Dina, too, shifted her gaze to the beach in front of them.

  “Why bother to analyze the reason?” he countered. “Why not just enjoy it?”

  “That’s true.” She scuffed a canvas toe against a stone. “Except that I like to know the why of things.”

  “So I remember,” Blake murmured dryly. “Like the time I gave you your engagement ring and you wanted to know what made me decide to propose to you.”

  Dina laughed. “And you said it was because I would make such a beautiful ornament in your home.” The laughter died as she gave him a guarded look. “Is that the way you regard women? As ornaments?”

  There was a hint of exasperation in his impatient glance. “You should know me better than that, Dina.”

  She was silent for several paces. “That’s the problem, I guess — I’m not certain anymore how well I know you. You always seemed so cultured. Now —” she lifted her hand in a searching gesture “— you are so… earthy.”

  “I suppose I learned that the basics of life are more important. The rest is just window dressing. Fundamentally I don’t believe I’ve changed.”

  “Perhaps I was so busy looking for the window dressing that I didn’t recognize you,” she wondered aloud.

  “Perhaps,” Blake conceded. He flashed her a quick smile. “How did we get started on such a serious discussion?”

  His lightning switch from a pensive mood to one that was lightly teasing was infectious. Dina responded immediately, “I don’t know. You started it.”

  “No, I didn’t. You did,” he corrected her in the same light vein, “when you questioned why we weren’t arguing.”

  “You didn’t have to answer me, so therefore it’s all your fault,” she shrugged.

  “Logic like that could only come from a woman,” Blake declared with an amused shake of his head.

  “Are you making disparaging remarks against my sex again?” she demanded in mock anger.

  “I’m just stating facts,” he insisted.

  Dina gave him a sideways push with her shoulder. Knocked off balance, his arm slipped from around her and he had to take a step to one side to recover. Their aimless pace had taken them closer to the water’s edge than either had realized, and when Blake took that step, his foot — shoe, sock and trouser cuff landed in salt water — Dina gasped in a laugh at the one wet foot.

  “So you think its funny, do you?” He took a playfully threatening step toward her.

  Unconsciously she began to retreat. “Honestly, Blake, I’m sorry.” She was trying hard not to laugh, but it bubbled in her voice. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to push you in the water, honestly.”

  Blake continued to approach her. “Let’s see if it’s so funny when you get wet.”

  “Blake, no!” Dina kept backing up, swallowing the laughter as she negatively shook the silver gold mane of her hair.

  The wicked glint in his eye warned her that words would not appease him. Turning, she ran, sprinting for the rock bluff at a safer distance from the lapping ocean waves. Blake chased her, his long strides eating up her short lead. Any moment he would overtake her, Dina knew, and she spared a laughing glance over her shoulder.

  A piece of driftwood in her path tripped her and sent her sprawling headlong onto the beach. Her outstretched arms broke most of her fall. Unharmed, she rolled onto her back, out of breath but still trying not to laugh, as Blake dropped to his knees beside her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, half smiling and half concerned.

  “Fine,” she managed to gasp.

  Sitting on his heels, Blake watched silently as she caught her breath. But as her breathing slowed, her heartbeat increased. An exciting tension was leaping between them, quivering over her nerve ends in lightning stimulation.

  Blake moved forward as if to assist her to her feet, but as he moved closer, arms bracing him above her, her lips parted, glistening moistly. Dina lifted her hands to his chest as if to resist him, but instead they slid around his neck, pulling him down.

  Fire ignited at the hard pressure of his mouth, hungry and demanding. It spread through her veins, her bones melting under the intense heat. The weight of his body crushed her to the rocky sand. It was an exquisite pain. No part of her was immune to the fire Blake was arousing so thoroughly.

  Reeling under the torrid assault of his desire, she knew she had lost control. She made no attempt to regain it, willing to let his lips dominate hers for as long as he chose. With each breath, she drew in the intoxicating scent of him, warm and magic, a fuel for the fire that consumed her.

  Never had Dina felt so alive. Every corner of her heart was filled with love, overflowing and spilling out like a volcano. Any differences were burned away by the fiery embrace that transcended physical limits.

  “Hey, mister?” She heard a child’s voice when previously she had only been able to hear the pagan rhythms of their matching heartbeats. “Hey, mister!” This time the voice was more insistent and Blake dragged his mouth from hers to roll onto his side. “Have you seen my puppy?”

  A young boy of six stood beside them, knees dirty, a baseball cap on his light brown hair, staring at them innocently. Dina could feel Blake gathering the control to answer him.

  “No, son, I haven’t.” His reply was tight and brief to conceal the raggedness of his breathing.

  “He’s white and black with a red collar,” the boy explained.

  “Sorry, we haven’t seen him,” Blake repeated patiently.

  “If you do, would you bring him back to me?

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks.” And he trotted off, disappearing around a jutting promontory on the beach.
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  Blake stared in the direction the boy had taken. “A few more seconds and it could have been embarrassing,” he remarked grimly. “Come on.” Rolling to his feet, he caught at Dina’s hand to pull her along with him.

  “Where are we going?” There was a faint pink to her cheeks.

  “Back to the hotel.”

  “Why?”

  “You,re forgetting,” he answered accusingly, flashing her a look that still had the smoldering light of desire. “I have a wet shoe, sock and pant leg.”

  Slightly subdued, Dina offered, “I’m sorry about that.”

  “I’m not.” His finger touched her lips, tracing their outline, warm and still throbbing from his possession of them. “If that’s what I get for a wet foot, I can’t help wondering what would happen if I’d been drenched from head to toe.” She breathed in sharply, wanting to tell him he didn’t have to wait to find out, but she simply couldn’t say the words. Blake didn’t wait for her to speak, removing his fingers from her lips to encircle her hand. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  Dina nodded in silent agreement.

  The magic moment lay between them on their return trip to the hotel, the irrevocable change it had made unspoken. But it was there in the looks they exchanged, in the things they didn’t say and in the way they avoided physical contact with each other. They each seemed to know how combustible a touch could be and were not ready to start a false fire.

  Neither of them was willing to acknowledge the change in the relationship. At the same time, they couldn’t go back to the cold hostility that had preceded the visit to the island. They each played a waiting game.

  After a late lunch in the hotel restaurant, they entered the lobby. Blake stopped short and turned to Dina. “We’re checking out and going home,” he announced.

  “It’s only Saturday,” she protested.

  “Yes. I know,” he agreed with a hint of impatience. “But I’m not looking forward to spending another night here.”

  Dina hesitated, uncertain of his meaning. Finally she acknowledged. “The beds aren’t very comfortable.”

  His mouth twisted wryly. “Yes, they’re too soft.”

  “Do we have time to catch the ferry?”

  “If you don’t waste too much time packing, we do,” he told her.

  “I won’t,” she promised.

  “I’ll check out while you get started,” said Blake.

  During the ferry crossing neither mentioned the abrupt change of plans that had them returning early. They talked around it as if unwilling to delve too deeply into the reason. When the ferry docked in Newport they stopped talking altogether, both absorbed in their own thoughts.

  It was several seconds before Dina noticed that Blake had missed a corner. “You were supposed to turn at that last block,” she reminded him.

  “We aren’t going back to the house right away,” he said.

  Dina waited for him to tell her their destination. When he didn’t, she asked, “Where are we going?”

  “There’s something I want to show you,” was all he answered.

  After several more blocks, he turned onto a tree-shaded street, branches arching overhead, nearly touching. He slowed the car down, seeming to read the house numbers as he drove down the street. Dina’s curiosity grew with each second of his continued silence. Finally he turned into a driveway and stopped the car, switching off the engine.

  Dina glanced at the large white house surrounded by a green lawn with lots of trees and flowering shrubs. She didn’t recognize the place.

  “Who lives here?” she asked.

  Blake was already opening his car door and stepping outside. “You’ll see.”

  She flashed him a look of irritation as he came around to open her door. He was carrying all this mystery business just a little too far. But she said nothing and walked ahead of him along the winding sidewalk to the front door.

  There was a jingle of metal behind her and she turned. Blake was taking a set of keys from his pocket. Selecting one, he stepped ahead of her and inserted it in the front-door lock. Suspicion glittered in her eyes.

  Pushing the door open, he motioned to her. “Go on in.”

  Her gaze swerved to the opened door as she moved forward to cross the threshold. On her right, carved oak posts ran from floor to ceiling to partition the mock entryway from the spacious living room beyond. Although the room was sparsely furnished, the items that were there Dina recognized as furniture stored from their apartment.

  “What is this supposed to mean?” Unable to look at him, she thought she already knew the answer, and his high-handedness made her tremble with anger.

  “Do you like it?” Blake ignored her question to ask one of his own.

  “Am I to presume you bought this house without consulting me?” she demanded accusingly in a low, shaking voice, barely able to control her ire.

  “As I recall, you were too busy to be bothered with looking for a place for us to live or furnishing it,” he reminded her in an expressionless tone. “But to answer your question — no, I haven’t signed any documents to purchase this house.”

  “If that’s true, what is all our furniture doing here?” Her hand waved jerkily to the sofa and chairs.

  “I obtained permission from the owner to have it brought in to see how it would fit in the rooms and to give the decorator an idea of what still has to be done.”

  Dina turned on him roundly, her eyes flashing fire. “In other words, you’re presenting me with an accomplished fact! It doesn’t matter what I want! You’ve decided on this house and if I don’t like it, that’s just too bad, isn’t it?”

  “Your opinion does matter.” A muscle was twitching along his jaw, the only outward sign that he felt the lashing of her words. “That’s why I brought you here.”

  There was a skeptical lift of her chin, disbelief glittering in her eyes despite his smooth denial. “Why not? Why not before? All this furniture wasn’t just brought here and arranged overnight.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” Blake agreed.

  “Then why now?” Dina repeated her demand.

  “Because I had the impression you were ready to start looking for a place we might share together.”

  His narrowed gaze was piercing, impaling her on its point until she wanted to squirm under his sharp scrutiny. She averted her attention to the room, unable to admit that it might have been more than an impression.

  “Was I wrong, Dina?” Blake questioned.

  She didn’t want to answer that question — not yet, not until she had more to think about it. She didn’t want to be manipulated into a commitment.

  “Since I’m here, you might as well show me through the rest of the house,” she said with forced indifference.

  Blake hesitated, as if to pursue the answer to his question, then gestured with his hand. “The dining room and kitchen are this way,” he directed.

  As Dina toured the house, she realized it was everything they had ever talked about in a home of their own. Spacious without being too large, with ample room for entertaining, a study for Blake where he could work undisturbed in the evenings, a large patio in back, and plenty of closets.

  “Since you’re working, I thought we could arrange to have a maid to come in and do the housework,” Blake explained as they walked down the hallway from the master bedroom to the main living area of the house.

  “Yes,” Dina agreed absently. At the open doorway of one of the two empty rooms, she paused to look inside again. The spare bedrooms were smaller than the master bedroom, but still adequately large.

  There is one thing I haven’t asked you.” Blake stopped beside her.

  “What’s that?” She turned to meet his gaze.

  “I haven’t asked how you fell about having children.”

  Slightly flustered, Dina looked back go the empty room, visualizing it not as a guest bedroom but as a children’s room. “We’ve talked about it before.” They had discussed having two children, possibly three, she remembered
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  “That was several years ago,” Blake pointed out, “before you became a career woman.”

  “Working women raise children.” She hedged, avoiding a direct answer and speaking in generalities instead.

  “And there are some working women who prefer not to have children,” he added. “I’m asking what you prefer, Dina.”

  He seemed silently demand that she look at Reluctantly she let her gaze swing back to him, but she was unable to look any higher than his mouth. There were no soft curves to it; it was strong and firm and masculine. Dina had the impulse raise her fingertips to it and trace the strength of its outline.

  “I would like to have children, yes.” Her reply was soft, almost inaudible.

  “Do you have any objections to my being their father?” There was a husky quality to his voice.

  The movement of his mouth when he spoke broke the spell and Dina looked away, her heart pulsing erratically. She didn’t make a response. She couldn’t seem to speak. Something was blocking her voice.

  “Do you?” Blake repeated. When she remained silent, his fingers turned her chin to force her to look at him. “Was I mistaken this afternoon on the beach?” His steady gaze didn’t waver as he looked deeply into her eyes, seemingly into her very soul. “Did you give me your answer, or was it a fleeting surrender to passion?”

  “I don’t know.” Dina wanted to look away, but she couldn’t. Her mind was reeling from his touch, incapable of coherent thought. “I… I can’t think.”

  “Just this once don’t think” Blake requested.

  “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

  His hands slipped to her shoulders, tightening for a fraction of a second as if he wanted to shake the answer out of her, but they relaxed to simply hold her. Dina stared into the bluntly chiseled features, leather-tanned, and those compelling dark eyes. This was Blake, a man, her husband, and not quite the stranger she had thought him to be.

  She swayed toward him and he gathered her into his arms, prepared to meet her more than halfway. Her lips parted under the plundering force of his mouth, taking the prize she so readily surrendered to him. As if it had never been away, her soft shape molded itself to the hard contours of his body.