He heard footsteps behind him, recognized the quiet, firm tread.
He turned. “Jonas.”
His brother had changed clothes since they all went upstairs. He wore loose cotton slacks and a light shirt, unbuttoned. He was barefoot. He dropped down next to Dekker, rolled up his slacks and swung his feet into the water.
Dekker glanced back over his shoulder—at the terrace of the master suite. From that terrace, anyone sitting at the edge of the pool would be in plain view. “Been watching me, big brother?”
Jonas chuckled. “You were down here last night, too.” He let a moment elapse, then asked carefully, “Anything…the matter?”
“Yeah. But I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sure?”
“Positive. But thanks.”
“If you change your mind…” Jonas let the thought trail off, which was fine with Dekker. He got the message, and he appreciated the offer.
Not that he’d be taking his brother up on it.
They sat for a while, feet in the water. Dekker became more aware of the city noises, distant but ever-present: the faint wailing of sirens, the whoosh of traffic so constant it sounded like the faraway roar of a waterfall. A smell of smoke hung in the air, barely detectable, but definitely there.
Finally Jonas suggested, “How about a couple of games of eight ball?” There was a pool table in the game room, on the first floor of the huge house behind them, right next-door to the media room.
Dekker shook his head. “Go on back to Emma. Get some sleep. I know you have to work tomorrow.”
“You are no fun at all.”
“Go on. Get lost.”
Jonas pulled his feet from the water, rolled down his pants legs and stood. “There ought to be something profound I could say before I go.”
Dekker looked up at his brother, watched the pool lights play on the face so much like his own. “Not necessary.”
“When I was six, before our evil uncle messed everything up, there were so damn many things I was going to do for you, say to you, teach you. And look what happened? You went and grew up without my help.”
Dekker felt himself smiling. “I guess it’s a major responsibility, huh? Being a big brother.”
“Words like ’daunting’ come to mind. At six I was ready. Now, well…”
“You’re doing great. I mean that.”
“Sure you won’t let me beat you at pool?”
“I said get lost. I meant that, too.”
Dekker watched his brother until he disappeared through one of the French doors that opened onto the loggia. Then he turned back to his somber contemplation of the city lights spread out below.
The next morning at breakfast Emma had an announcement to make. “Jonas and I have finally decided on the perfect wedding present for you two.”
Dekker set down his fork. “Wait a minute. You’ve given us our present. This visit. It’s a thousand times more than enough.”
Emma shook a finger at him. “No, it is not. There is more. And you are getting it.”
“Sounds like a threat.”
“It is a visit to heaven.”
“Heaven?” Joleen asked with a laugh that Dekker read instantly as faked. “Did you say—”
“You bet I did.”
“Emma,” said Jonas. “I think you’d better explain a little further.”
“Well, all right. I will.” She beamed first at Dekker and then at Joleen. “You two are leaving Friday for La Puerta al Cielo—that’s Doorway to Heaven and it is a five-star resort Jonas owns, right at the tip of the Baja Peninsula. And did you notice I said ‘you two’?”
Dekker nodded. Joleen was quiet. He glanced her way and noted with a tightening in his gut that apprehension had drawn a line between her brows.
Emma chattered happily on. “I said ‘you two’ because Sammy will stay here, with us. You will never be more than a quick flight away, if he needs you. And the two of you will get to do what newlyweds are supposed to do—spend seven long, lazy days and beautiful balmy nights with only each other to think about.”
Chapter 13
“What are we going to do now?”
Joleen asked the question in a low, tight voice. It was some time later. Jonas and Emma had left for the day, and the nanny had taken the children back upstairs.
Dekker set down his coffee cup without drinking from it. It seemed crystal clear to him what they would do now. “We’re going to Baja.”
“But we can’t just—”
“Why not? They’re all supposed to think we’re happy newlyweds, remember? And this is the kind of trip happy newlyweds would jump at.”
She looked away. “Well, I…I think I’ll have to tell Emma that though there is nothing I would love more than a week alone with my new husband, we just are not going to be able to go.”
“Why not?”
She coughed, nervously, into her fist. “I’ll say that I don’t think I can leave Sam for all that time.”
“You’ll say that.”
“Yes. I will.”
“You’ll say it, but it’s not the truth, not the real reason you don’t want to go away with me.”
That gave her pause—though not for long. After a moment or two of heated silence, she said carefully, “Sam is only a year and a half old, and it makes perfect sense that I wouldn’t want to go away for a whole week without him.” She was watching him sideways, as if she didn’t quite dare to look him square in the eye.
He dared. He stared at her dead-on. He was so damn sick of whatever had gone wrong with her, whatever had made her stop wanting to be with him, to talk to him. He hated this, whatever it was.
And he wanted it gone.
He said, “So it makes perfect sense. Fine. That doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“Dekker, I don’t think it matters what—”
“Let me ask you directly. If you said that you couldn’t make yourself leave Sam here for a week, would it be true?”
“What does it—”
“So it would be a lie, wouldn’t it? Because Sam would do just fine without you for a week. He’s a well-adjusted kid. You said it yourself—zero separation anxieties. And he’s made himself at home here. He likes the nanny and he likes playing with Mandy. And he will be safe. You know it. Safe from harm. Safe from that SOB grandfather of his. Because if there’s anyplace in the world that no one could touch him, it’s right here at Angel’s Crest.”
She started to speak. He went on before she could get anything out. “On the other hand, if he did have a problem, if something came up, if he got sick or whatever, we could be back here in a matter of hours.”
“Dekker, I don’t—”
He cut her off that time with a short, chopping motion of his hand. She turned to follow the direction of his gaze. A maid carrying a silver coffeepot came toward them through the archway that led to the kitchen. She brought the pot to the table, refilled their cups, scooped up a few empty dishes and then left them the way she had come.
As soon as she was gone, Dekker stood. “Let’s talk about this upstairs.”
Joleen stared up at him.
She wanted to scream—just throw back her head and let out a long, loud wail. She felt so…trapped.
Trapped. And frustrated.
And confused.
And dishonest.
And just plain terrible about herself.
She spoke in a charged whisper. “I am fed up with worryin’ about what the maid thinks. I do not care what the maid thinks.”
His gaze bored through her. If looks could burn, she would be nothing but cinder and ash.
“Upstairs,” he said. “Come with me. Now.”
He confronted her as soon as they got through the door of the room they had been forced to share.
“You’ve had three days,” he said, shoving the door shut. “Three days to ‘think it over,’ three days to ‘deal with it’—whatever the hell ‘it’ is.”
She put up a hand, palm out, to keep him
at bay. “Please. Can’t you just wait?” She backed away from him. “Can’t you just let it be, let me work this out in my own time?”
He went after her, each step slow and deliberate. “No. I can’t take this anymore. There is no damn thing in the world you could say to me that I can’t deal with, can’t find a way to understand.”
She reached the center of the room, between the bed and the sitting area, and she hovered there, emotions chasing themselves across her pale face—indecision, anger, outright misery. “I just don’t…I can’t—”
He didn’t stop until he was right in front of her. “You don’t what? You can’t what?”
She wrapped her arms around herself, shook her head, her eyes too big, too sad, too hopeless. “Oh, Dekker…”
And something snapped inside him. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers digging in. “What, damn it? What?”
She winced.
They both froze, staring at each other. Remorse burned through him. If he had hurt her…
He uttered her name on a ragged whisper, tried to pull her close.
“No!” She jerked away, gasped, put her hand across her mouth.
All he wanted was to reach for her again—to yank her against him, to make her take the comfort he needed to give her.
This was going nowhere. Better to get out.
He started to turn.
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm. “Oh, wait…” She let go, with a swiftness that stunned him, as if to touch him burned her. But then she gave a small cry. “Oh, please. I hate this, too, I hate what has happened between us. I hate it as much—no, more—than you do. Oh, Dekker, don’t go….”
He faced her. And he waited. A kind of grim acceptance had settled over him. He saw no reason to push her further for answers. Either she would tell him. Or she wouldn’t—and he would turn around once more and this time he would leave.
Her face, so pale a moment before, flooded with color. “I…can I ask you…?”
“Anything.” It came out a growl. “You know that.”
“The other night. Friday, our weddin’ night?”
“Yeah?”
“When you—” she hesitated, swallowed, as if the next word almost choked her trying to get out “—kissed me. At the table, in front of the window, when we thought a reporter was—”
“I remember, Jo.”
“Okay. Well, Dekker, um…you…” She ran out of words, lost her courage again.
He couldn’t stop himself from prompting, “I…?”
“Well, you—” She sucked in a long breath and let it out in a rush. “I felt your tongue, Dekker. You used your tongue. A little. You did.”
He thought he understood then. He felt like a worm. “It was a sleazy move, huh? God. I am so sorry. You probably think I’m putting the moves on you, taking advantage of our situation to—”
“No. Wait.”
“What?”
“Please. Don’t be sorry.”
“Huh?”
“I do not think that you are putting any moves on me.”
“You don’t?”
She shook her head. Her soft cheeks were the deepest pink he had ever seen them. “I just…I want to know, um, why you did that?”
He was completely in the dark all over again. “Wait a minute. For three days you’ve hardly spoken to me…because you wanted to know why I used my tongue when I kissed you…and you were too embarrassed to ask?”
She clasped her hands in front of her and stared down at them as if she were trying to see through to the bones. “No. No, that’s not it.”
“Then what?”
She lifted her head, cried, “Oh, I am getting there. I am trying to get there. If you would just—”
He patted the air between them, palms out. “Okay. Sorry. Take your time. It’s okay…”
“I…”
“Yeah?”
“I just want to know why you did it. That’s all I’m asking right now.”
“Why I…used my tongue when I kissed you?”
“Yes. Exactly. Why?”
He studied her face for an endless moment as he realized he didn’t have the faintest idea. “I, uh…”
“Yeah?”
“I wanted the kiss to look convincing to the guy outside the window. I did what I had to do to make it that way.” Hadn’t he?
“But your back was to the window. Whoever was out there couldn’t tell if there were…tongues involved, or not.”
He wondered, vaguely, if he’d ever had such a strange conversation as this in his life. “Hell, Jo. It seemed natural, I guess. A natural thing to do, in that situation.”
“Natural?”
“Yeah. We were playing our parts, right? The bride and groom on their wedding night.”
“But you never, I mean, all these years we have known each other. All my life…”
“Yeah?”
“You never did anything like that with me before.”
“Right. I didn’t. And I apologize. I went too far and I—”
“Don’t apologize. Please.”
“But I—”
“Did you like it?” The words came out in a rush. Her astonished expression said it all. She couldn’t believe she had said such a thing.
He quelled the sudden urge to grin. “Well, yeah.”
She was frowning—a very intense sort of frown. “Are you sure you understood the question? I asked if you liked—”
“I got it. You asked if I liked kissing you, with a little bit of tongue involved.” Her face, if possible, got even redder than it was already. “And I said yeah.”
“It was enjoyable for you, kissing me that way?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“Yes, I thought you did. I wanted to be sure.”
“Okay, then. You can be sure.”
She unclasped her hands, looked at her palms as if she couldn’t decide what to do with them next. Then she whirled away, strode to the bed and dropped to the edge of it.
He approached cautiously. “Mind if I…?”
“Of course I don’t. Sit.”
He sat. Beside her.
“Dekker…”
He made a low noise, to let her know he was there, and that he was listening.
“Something has…happened to me. Something I never expected. Something I never imagined…” She looked down at her feet and added in a tiny voice, “Or at least, I don’t think I imagined.” She let out a tiny groan. “Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can bear to tell you…to ask you…” She shook her head slowly, wearily, back and forth.
He waited. What else could he do at that point? Maybe Atwood had somehow managed to get through the extensive security network his brother employed at Angel’s Crest, managed to get through and threaten her somehow. Maybe she had some incurable disease.
It didn’t matter. Whatever it was, as soon as she told him, they could face it together.
“I don’t know how to say it,” she murmured. “Except to just say it…”
“Good idea.”
She drew herself up and looked straight at him. He had never seen her look so determined—or so lost.
She said, “Dekker, I…I want you. I know this is a lot to ask, but do you think, maybe, that we could make love together?”
Chapter 14
It was not what he’d expected. Not by a long shot.
And he must have looked as thunderstruck as he felt, because she instantly jumped to her feet and started protesting. “Oh. Oh, look. Never mind.” She threw up both hands. “Oh, why did I say that? I do not believe that I said that.” She pressed her hands against her ears, as if by blocking out sound she could somehow take back the words.
Then she dropped her hands to her sides, heaved a big sigh and pleaded, “Oh, Dekker. Could we…do you think we could, um, pretend that I never said that?”
“Jo…”
“No. Now, you listen.”
He looked at her levelly.
“Are you listening
?”
He nodded, to show that he was.
And she asked again, “Will you please forget what I just said?”
She had to know the answer to that one. He said nothing, just went on looking her square in the eye.
A shudder passed through her. “Oh. Oh, this is awful. I never should have told you. You should have let me just—”
“Jo. Settle down. Sit down. Please.”
She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, her sweet face contorted with distress. And then, with a little moan, she slumped back down beside him.
He gave her—and himself—a moment to regroup. Then, with some caution, he put his arm around her.
She let out a second small, agonized groan. He held on to her—but lightly. After another iffy moment, she relaxed and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Jo,” he said softly. “This is not a terrible thing.”
“Oh, well,” she mumbled. “Easy for you to say.”
He kissed the top of her head, gave her shoulder a squeeze. “We’ve been through so much together. We can get through this.”
She gave a small humph. “How?”
Now she’d finally told him what she wanted, it all seemed very clear to him. Simple as adding one and one and coming up with two. “If you want this marriage to have sex in it, well, okay. That’s fine with me.”
She gave him a nudge with her elbow in the old, wonderful, teasing way. “Don’t get too excited at the idea.”
“I’m excited.” And he was, suddenly—that hot, rising feeling.
She must have been looking down at his lap, because her head shot up. “Dekker!”
He spoke lazily, with some humor. “Well now, Jo. If lovemaking’s in the offing, a man will often become excited.”
“Oh, really? Thanks for the tip.”
“Anytime.”
She looked…what? Doubtful? Concerned? He suggested tenderly, “Go ahead. Say it. Whatever it is.”
“I just…I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know. If you would want to, with me. If you even could.”
Even with all her hesitations and sighs, he took her meaning. “There was a while there, a few years ago, when I couldn’t. But recently, I have noticed that the necessary equipment has started showing signs of life again.”
The Marriage Conspiracy Page 15