“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.”
The naked pleasure that streaked across the newcomer’s pleasant angular features was ample reward for her honest words. “Thanks for saying that, Leigh,” he told her quietly, and she was struck by the humble sincerity of his manner. “It’s rough to try and take the place of a man like Richard Tremayne. Having your approval means a lot.”
“Don’t take anyone’s place, John,” Leigh said, touched by the eager and personable young man. “Be yourself.”
“Well,” Derek said, “now that this is all settled, let’s eat. I’m starving.”
Leigh watched Derek with more curiosity than ever as he rose and began to serve them all from the various chafing dishes on the table. What was he up to? It was, she realized, possible that her elongated stay was simple happenstance, and that Derek would have invited his friends and associates over anyway. But for some reason she didn’t think so. It all had to do with a plan of his, and not knowing his motives made her very nervous.
“Shouldn’t we all really be off the Island altogether?” she asked sweetly. “I understand these small islands can be very dangerous.”
“This house has been here since ’thirty-eight,” Derek replied, equally amiable as he served her a portion of eggs Benedict. “She was built to withstand the weather—rain, wind, even flooding. We’re quite safe. You should know, Leigh. You never left Key West because of a storm.”
She smiled vaguely and crunched into a strip of bacon. A point that had been bothering her suddenly came into sharp focus in her mind. Roger had said that Derek called him. When she had asked Derek to call her a cab, he had told her that the phones were dead. He was definitely up to something, and in all probability he had done the damage to her car!
She never had to do anything on purpose to retaliate. He spoke her name, and she had become so engrossed in her thoughts that she started violently, consequently carrying out her earlier plan. She knocked Derek’s cup accidentally and the scalding brew indeed emptied into his lap.
He yelped and jumped to his feet as the burning liquid drenched through material and hit flesh. Leigh rose too, horrified. She had never truly meant to hurt him.
“Lord, Derek, I am so sorry!” she cried, chewing a knuckle with uncertainty. Should she try to help him mop up? She couldn’t! Not where the coffee had landed!
“Accidents happen,” he replied dryly, but the tone of his voice told her two things. He didn’t think it was an accident at all, and he certainly didn’t intend to let it pass as one when he got hold of her alone. “Excuse me,” he said with clenched teeth, and she knew too that he really was in pain.
She watched him helplessly as he strode from the room, miserable at the turn of events.
“Hey, Leigh, sit!” Roger said sympathetically. He tossed his napki
n on the table and stood himself. “I don’t think it’s all that bad. Don’t look so petrified!” He squeezed her shoulder as he passed her and left the room.
Leigh sank back into her chair. She had lost all taste for breakfast.
“I hear you’re an honest-to-God Conch,” John Haley said, tactfully changing the subject and attempting to dispel the gloom that had settled. “I didn’t know anyone was really born in Key West.”
“Sure.” Leigh smiled in spite of herself. “Key West is an old settlement. There have been Conches for several hundred years. Where are you from?”
“Midwest. A little town in the Nebraska corn country. I enjoy trips back home, but I like the South.” He grinned engagingly and Leigh decided he was a very attractive man. Site would enjoy spending time in his company. Thank goodness he and Roger had arrived.
“I have a home in Atlanta, too, but you know that. I sent you an invitation to a party I had,” John continued.
“Umm, I remember,” Leigh replied, surprised she could sound so cool and remote. “I really haven’t gone too far since … in the last year or so,” she corrected herself. “It was nice of you to have thought of me.”
“It was a good party!” John chuckled. “Some of the costumes were terrific. We had one real beauty, a gorgeous creature, and I never even figured out who she was and it was my party!” His chuckle expanded to an explosive laugh. “You should have seen Derek that night! He left with the lady and he never discovered who she was! The poor boy was fit to be tied. He tore Atlanta apart for a month looking for her.”
Leigh forced herself to join his laughter. She was feeling a little ill, having forgotten that John Haley had been her host on that night …
“It must have been a good party,” she agreed jauntily. “I’m sorry I missed it.”
“Missed what?”
A chill crept down Leigh’s neck as Derek came back in, clad in a new pair of jeans. She again had the sensation that his golden eyes were seeing through her, that the light in them pierced straight to her heart.
“I was telling her about that party I had in Atlanta,” John explained. “And the one who got away from Derek Mallory.”
“Oh,” Derek said, pouring himself a fresh cup of coffee and sitting, one leg casually draped over the other. He smiled noncommittally. “I still think I’ll find the lady one of these days.”
John laughed. “The man never gives up.”
“No,” Derek agreed. “I never do.”
Leigh picked up her coffee cup but the liquid was splashing dangerously. She set it back down. “Can I bother one of you for a cigarette? I seem to have left mine upstairs.”
Both men solicitously offered her their packs. As Derek was closer, she accepted one from him. He grinned at the slight trembling apparent in her hand as he offered her a light.
“Nervous this morning, aren’t you?”
“Am I?” She inhaled and exhaled. “Maybe. I don’t like being confined.”
“We’ll get some work done and take your mind off the confinement then,” Derek said. “Finish up your coffee and your cigarette and we’ll get into ‘Henry the Eighth.’”
“I’m anxious to hear this,” John supplied eagerly.
Leigh’s reply was for Derek alone. “I told you I didn’t want to do the damn thing!” she snapped.
“And you also told our late-night visitor of the silver pen that you were here on business,” Derek reminded her. His sensuous lips were set in a smile, but his eyes were narrowed and gleamed devilishly. His words had been part challenge—part warning?
Leigh stubbed out her cigarette and walked swiftly to the door. “I’ll play what I remember, Derek—then you take it from there. I’m going home as soon as the weather clears. And I’m not coming back for months of work. Miss Lavinia White is going to have to write up whatever she feels like, which she probably will anyway!”
She briefly saw anger streak across Derek’s face, hardening his rugged jaw, narrowing his eyes still further. But she didn’t stay to receive an answer. Striding with determined and lengthy steps, she hurried through the salon and parlor, past the curving staircase and into Derek’s office, where Roger already waited. Barely acknowledging him, she slid onto the bench and began to play idly with the ivory keys of the piano.
Derek was angry now, she knew, because she had been so rude to him in front of John Haley. But she was too inflamed to care. She knew that he had schemed the entire situation—plotting her arrival in foul weather, trapping her into agreement in the presence of Lavinia White, bringing part of the group to bear further pressure on her and to keep her from arguing with him. Well, on that score, he was wrong. She was past giving a damn who knew about their grievances.
And it was all supposedly over the music. That she still didn’t believe. But if he wanted it, then he could have it. All she wanted to do was get away, get away from the man she hated so fiercely and loved so dearly.
She had lied yesterday. There wasn’t a note in any of the songs that she had forgotten. She plunged straight in, mindless of the men who listened, heedless of the barrage of criticism that might follow. Her delicate fingers slid over the keys naturally, her voice rose high and low, clear and sweet. She played straight, locked in a little world of her own, and when she finished, the only audible sound was the call of the wind that raged outside the house around them.
It was Roger who spoke first. “Damn, Leigh! That’s not just good, it’s brilliant!”
“Bloody brilliant,” Derek echoed quietly, and Leigh chanced a glance at him. His eyes had lost their golden glint and were dark with sincerity.
She shrugged, unable to cope with the unusual compliments. “It’s all yours,” she said. “Use it as you like.”
“Tell me,” Roger said, moving from the door where he had been standing when John and Derek had followed her into the room after her explosive departure. “Why didn’t you ever sing with us before?”
Leigh laughed, honestly surprised by the question. “Because Richard always said I sounded like a dying frog!”
The three men in the room exchanged a glance that Leigh could not interpret. Derek cleared his throat and bent his lengthy frame to join her on the bench. “Let’s try it again, shall we? I think I’ve got the chords.”
Leigh was sure that he did. Derek could hear the opening bars of a piece and pick it up from that. “John,” he continued, assuming consent by all, “my guitar is behind the desk.”
They played the music again and Leigh was amazed at how good it all sounded, the two of them at the piano, John on the guitar, Roger tapping out the beat on his knees. Derek’s voice, blending with hers, added the final touches. When they finished this time, she sat quietly staring at her hands, tense with an excitement she was afraid to feel.
“As soon as the weather clears,” Derek said, “we’ll fly down to Key West and pick up the original music. Then we’ll get Shane and Bobby and start work in earnest.”
Leigh swallowed and lowered her eyes. He was too close to be nice to her! She could feel his breath as he spoke, smell his warm masculinity and the light aftershave he was wearing.
She moved from the bench. “I’m thrilled that you all like it,” she said. “And you’re welcome to it. But no one needs to fly to Key West I’ll mail it as soon as I get back.”
“What do you mean, you’ll mail it?” Roger demanded jovially. “You’re in this too, my girl. We wouldn’t do it without you!”
“Roger!” Leigh exclaimed. “That’s sweet of you. But you don’t need me. I can’t play anything half as well as any of you do and Derek could write books on what I don’t know about music—”
“You’ll be singing with me,” Derek interrupted.
Leigh gasped with amazement as she stared at him, stunned. He had to be joking! As long as she lived, she would never forget the things that Richard had said about her voice, never accept that they were anything but true.
“Come on, Derek!” she retorted. “Enough is enough.”
“What did you do before you met Richard?” he demanded suddenly.
She stared at him with exasperation. “You know what I did! A group of us used to play and sing calypso music for tourists—”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”
“Did anyone tell you you sounded like a frog then?”
“Don’t you get it?” John Haley moaned. “You were Richard’s wife. He loved you; he didn’t want you becoming involved with the band. He probably wanted to keep his private life private.”
Had that been it? Leigh wondered. Had Richard’s blustering, scornful criticism been part of a deep-seated insecurity? But why? She had never given him cause to doubt her. When she had filed for divorce, he had known exactly what her reasons were.
She looked to Derek and found him studying her inscrutably. He rose when he caught her return glance, stretched, and yawned as if he didn’t want her to know what he was thinking. “Anyone for a game of pool? It must be getting close to lunch-time. Let’s go play a grand championship and then hit Emma up for some sandwiches.”
John and Roger likewise stretched and yawned and agreed with Derek. Leigh began mechanically to follow the two out the door, but Derek’s grip on her elbow stopped her. “Go on,” he said to John and Roger. “I’ll play the winner. I need to speak with Leigh for a minute.”
“You can let go now,” Leigh said, looking pointedly at his hand on her arm as the door closed.
“Can I?”
She wasn’t sure if he were amused or still angry.
“You want to talk—talk.” She extricated her arm with a small jerk.
“I want to know if this is settled.”
“If what is settled?” She knew what he was talking about but she wanted to stall for time. Her feelings were confused. She knew she should simply get away. But learning that her work had merit and that she could be wanted for her own talents was exhilarating. As accustomed as she had become to Richard’s fame and artistry, she had never imagined hearing her own voice on the radio, or seeing her own name in print.
When Next We Love Page 6