When Next We Love

by Heather Graham

  Derek lifted his head and laughed, the deep sound that could captivate her a room away. Then she was in his arms and they were moving effortlessly up the stairway. “It’s all real!” Leigh said softly, meeting his smoldering eyes.

  “Forever,” Derek replied. He walked on into his own room and they fell to the bed together. No longer the least bit shy or hesitant, Leigh began working at the buttons of his shirt, teasing him with flicking motions of her tongue each inch of the way.

  “You are a vixen!” Derek accused, turning the tables as he ripped away the last button and pinned her to the bed. “Now I shall play the tormentor!” He laughed.

  His assault on her senses was slow and complete, his own desire held carefully in check as he teased and tantalized every inch of her sleek skin, savoring the fragrant scent, tasting its sweetness, exploring its perfection. His teeth nipped and grazed over her earlobe, finding each little erogenous zone along her nape. The warmth of his breath atone sent thrilling chills flooding through her spine; his touch, purposely designed to torment with arousal and withdrawal, turned those chills to a current of charged electricity.

  “I love you,” he murmured, his mouth moving sensuously over her breast. “I’m in heaven when I’m with you. I shall never have my fill of you.”

  “I love you,” Leigh panted in return, moaning deeply as his teeth locked over a highly sensitive nipple and rotated gently.

  “Like that?” Derek demanded hoarsely.

  “Ummmmmm,” Leigh returned breathlessly. “I like everything that you do …” Her voice trailed away with a gasp and her fingers dug into his shoulders as his teeth raked gently down her rib cage to begin a new assault on the hollows of her hips.

  “And how about that, my love?”

  His query was little more than a choked stream of air, as was her answer, yet they both knew that their murmured words of love could elicit deeper and deeper passion.

  Derek’s voice suddenly took on a peculiar note, which faintly surprised Leigh, but she was cocooned within his realm of expert seduction and it was several seconds before his words registered in her mind.

  “And you’re all mine, my darling, all mine now. You will never have to look for love from another man again because I will always be there. I shall keep you so happily busy and satisfied you will never have the need …”

  Leigh felt as if she had been doused in a tub of ice water.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, my love.”

  Leigh furiously sprang into a sitting position, knocking him aside as she did so.

  “What the hell?” Derek demanded, staring at her stunned, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

  Leigh didn’t care. The green of her own hazel eyes was blazing like dark jade. “I want you to repeat what you just said.”

  “I don’t even know what I just said!”

  “Yes, you do!” Tears stung her lids; she knew what had bothered her from earlier in the morning. Derek still didn’t believe her. He no longer blamed her for Richard, but he had Richard’s own words to rely on. It was evident that he still thought her capable of shoddy affairs behind someone’s back.

  “Dammit, Leigh!” he muttered angrily. “You have to be the only woman in the world who can pick an argument in the middle of making love.”

  “I want to hear what you said—slowly and clearly.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “How can you say that?” Leigh sputtered. “You talk about commitments but you think the worst of me! Love is trust and … and credibility!”

  “What are you talking about?” Derek demanded, growing steadily angrier. “I didn’t say I didn’t trust you!” He scowled darkly. Lifting his arms to her, he commanded, “Come back here!”

  “Not when you think—”

  “I don’t think anything. What went on between you and Richard and whoever else doesn’t matter. The past is over. You might have had every right to—”

  “To what?” Leigh prompted icily.

  “To seek whatever comfort you did elsewhere.” Derek impatiently pushed her shoulders back to the bed and straddled her. “I love you. I don’t care. We’re beginning anew,” he continued, his words a husky, mumbled whisper as he resumed his lovemaking, his tongue sliding over her lips and his hands caressing her torso.

  “Derek, stop it!” Leigh insisted. She held herself rigid despite the pulsations of sensuous pleasure her body refused to deny. “Stop it!” But he wouldn’t take her protestations seriously. She knew he thought she was playing a feminine game, saying no but meaning yes, wanting to be cajoled into submission.

  “Stop—” His lips fell over hers, muffling out the words. Then he was slowly caressing her soft flesh, and she doubted that he would even notice she had pitted all her strength against him …

  Then, it didn’t matter. He claimed her with sure, knowing expertise, seducing with each demanding thrust of satin, hurtling her along with him into the escalating whirlpool of magic that she no longer desired to deny.

  But she could not glow in the aftermath of their mutual satiation, nor seek the comfort and security and contentment of the arms that attempted to hold her with their usual ease. Despite the yearning she felt to settle back and bask in the simple pleasure of her love, she pulled away from the man who would undoubtedly hold her heart for life.

  He groaned; “What now?”

  Trying with great difficulty to stay completely calm and voice her words softly, Leigh smoothed back her damp auburn hair and said, “You aren’t paying any attention to me. You think going to bed solves any problem that pops up. I wanted to talk and you—”

  “And I forced you to make love?” Derek raised a skeptical brow.

  “No,” Leigh said evenly, but she knew her temper was slipping. “I’m not a hypocrite—believe it or not. I love being with you, I love what you do to me, your touch, your scent, everything. You. But that’s not enough. I know. You keep saying nothing matters, that the past is gone. But it matters to me, Derek. It matters very much that you trust me and believe what I say. How can we form any kind of a life together without those basics? I want to tell you—”

  “I don’t want to hear about the past!” Derek grated, interrupting her in a sharp command. “Damn! Can’t we just let it rest?”

  “No!” She had tried, Lord, she had really tried. Springing from the bed with a furious oath, she stalked for the door, so enraged she completely forgot her state of total undress. Pausing with her fingers clutched around the knob in a white-knuckled grip, she turned back to Derek. “If you think you can listen to me, Mr. Mallory, do it by tomorrow. If not, I’ll be heading back to the Keys and ‘poor Lyle’ by nightfall.”

  Derek was silent for a moment and their eyes clashed in a battle of willpower. Leigh would not allow hers to fall.

  “I don’t like ultimatums,” Derek finally said coldly. He turned his back on her and sank his head into his pillow.

  Shaking with a mixture of rage, pain, and frustration, Leigh threw open the door and flounced into the hall. Suddenly realizing she was as naked as a nymph, she sped toward the door that led to her own room. It was highly improbable that anyone would be roaming the halls at such an hour, but she still felt ridiculous on top of everything else.

  But shades of the past were indeed engulfing her. The door was locked.

  “Impossible!” Leigh muttered. She rattled the knob again fruitlessly. The door refused to budge. Sinking to the floor, she berated herself for having inherited an Irish temperament that didn’t allow room for common sense. When walking out on someone, it was wisest to do it clothed.

  Trying not to think, she rose slowly, tilted her chin, and headed back for Derek’s room. If she was lucky, she could slip in quietly and grab her negligee …

  But she wasn’t lucky. Derek was no longer in the bed. He was standing by the window in his dressing gown, gazing down upon the moonlit lawn. His eyes turned to her as soon as she entered the room.

  “Back already?” he dra
wled.

  “Just for my clothes!” Leigh hissed, snatching the gown from the floor. “My door is locked,” she snapped.

  The sardonic brow raised. “Again?”

  “Yes!”

  “My, you do have problems with doors!”

  “Only in this house,” Leigh replied sweetly, “so I imagine I won’t be worrying about it anymore.” Hastily slipping back into the gown and trailing the robe over her shoulder, she smiled a sarcastic “good night” and spun for the door to make a regal exit.

  “Where are you going?” Derek inquired politely.

  “To find a couch.”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Derek sighed. “Sleep here.”

  “You don’t listen—”

  “And I thought you weren’t a hypocrite. You’ve slept in my bed before—one more night isn’t going to kill you.”

  “I—”

  “No,” Derek said softly, leaving the window to walk toward her with the quiet tread of a cat. He touched her cheek just briefly with a single finger. “I won’t get into anything else tonight. We’re both tired. Let’s get some sleep.”

  Leigh was tired. It had been an incredibly long day, long and traumatic. Her lashes fluttered over her eyes and she fought the urge to cry. “All right, let’s go to sleep.”

  “I thought you might see it my way.” Derek chuckled.

  Leigh was already crawling into bed, pulling tensely to the far side.

  “That’s the problem,” she retorted bitterly. “You refuse to see anything my way!”

  Derek doffed his robe and climbed beside her, encircling her protesting form and drawing her against his warmth. “You know, one of the first rules of marriage is never to sleep apart. I heard that from a wise old friend.”

  “We’re not married, Derek, and I don’t think it’s a likely prospect for the future,” Leigh said stiffly, but she was no longer fighting the comfort he offered. It might truly be their last night together. She had been a partner once in a marriage that lacked communication and understanding. Not even for Derek would she contemplate such a thing again.

  He didn’t answer and within minutes she found herself yawning. “By the way,” she murmured drowsily, “who was the wise old friend who gave you advice on marriage?”

  His arm tightened securely around her. “Your father,” he whispered smugly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  A PARK IN CORAL Gables had been chosen for the picture-taking session. Acres of rolling green grass and high-arched, vine-covered pathways gave credence to a scene from the medieval days of jolly old England.

  Derek was a terrific Henry VIII—with his costume, a fake beard, and generous padding, and his own imposing height, he could easily pass for a reincarnation of the arrogant king.

  Roger was dressed as the Archbishop of Canterbury, Shane, John, and Bobby as various noblemen of the court.

  Leigh was to portray Anne Boleyn, and as the day went on, she was sure Derek had chosen her role with malicious intent. She spent an hour of posing on her knees by his feet, beneath his royal foot on the chopping block, then tearfully clutching his robe abjectly begging for mercy.

  Despite the fact that it was fall, the temperature readings were closing in on ninety. Dripping with the heat, Leigh found it harder and harder to keep her temper in check. Derek, she knew, although he seemed entirely nonchalant and easygoing to all other eyes, was still angry. She had warned him again that morning that she was leaving, and his attitude had infuriated her further. He seemed as if he just didn’t care. Now he was taunting her, all prefaced with smiles, as if all were well between them and he was any teasingly tender lover.

  “Just one more by the block, Leigh,” Bernie, the potbellied photographer called out cheerfully. “Then we’ll wrap it up.”

  Gritting her teeth, Leigh once more folded her hands in prayer over the block, her knees sore now from grinding into the dirt. She forced a smile as a young makeup man powdered perspiration from her nose. Derek strode into position behind her, the others took their places in the background.

  “I know it’s hot,” Bernie apologized, pushing his glasses back up his sweat-slick nose. “So we’ll hurry the best we can.”

  “Take your time,” Derek responded pleasantly, leaning on a knee and wedging his foot farther into Leigh’s back. “We want to get it right,” he added, “and besides, I think Mrs. Tremayne looks rather nice on a chopping block.”

  “Someone should have assassinated the king!” Leigh retorted.

  To the left of her Roger started chuckling. Damn men altogether! Leigh thought. Always sticking with one another. Roger knew something was up between them, but he didn’t take her seriously either!

  “Too bad the Tower of London isn’t handy,” Derek commented dryly. “We could have gotten a few nice shots of Leigh behind bars.”

  Leigh opened her mouth for a nasty retort, but this time it was the frazzled photographer who interrupted her. “You have to stop talking or I’ll never get this shot!” he moaned.

  Then the work was finally over. Derek asked the band to join them on Star Island for a “task completion” drink. “Love it!” Roger agreed, his eyes dancing merrily. Leigh smiled grimly. Company was not going to prevent her from driving off the island.

  She had packed her bag that morning, so once she returned to the house—in Roger’s car—all she had to do was change. But she didn’t get a chance to change right away. Roger affectionately pulled her into the game room. “I know you’re leaving,” he told her. “Derek mentioned it this morning. But you have to have one drink with us.” He swept his priestly hat from his head and playfully bowed. “After all, my dear Lady of the Lake, this is your venture we have just completed. You and Derek are the London Company now.”

  Leigh chuckled at his antics, still objecting. “No, Roger, I am now retiring from the London Company. And you all are the London Company. Every one of you is important. I’ve been the hanger-on.”

  “Today I shall not argue, Lady,” Roger said gallantly. “We shall resume this ethical question on another occasion. Today is a victory. What can I get you to drink.”

  “Oh … white wine, I guess,” Leigh acquiesced. Sadness was slowly creeping through her. She would miss them all so much! In the last months she had learned to love the band and the work that they did. She was a part of their camaraderie, of their family.

  And even more a part of Derek. She blinked as tears welled behind her eyelids. It would be so easy to give way and just stay—agree with Derek and be his wife on any terms.

  But such a relationship couldn’t last. By his attitude he was calling her an out-and-out liar. And he refused to listen to a word from her!

  “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here!” Bobby called, filing into the game room with John, Shane, and Derek behind him. “Break out the booze!”

  “Too quick for you!” Roger laughed, throwing beers on the counter. “Leigh and I are already indulging!”

  It was a happy party. Tina, Lara, and Angela appeared to join in the celebration and gleeful, gay conversation filled the room. Feeling as if she were amputating a part of her body, Leigh joined in with the fun for a while. Then she singled out Roger and kissed his cheek. “I have to go now, Roger,” she said quietly. “Thanks for everything.”

  “For what?” Roger scoffed, giving her a brotherly kiss back. His eyes were still dancing away. “You’re special to all of us, Lady, and very talented at that. And I have a strange feeling you won’t be gone long.”

  Leigh smiled doubtfully and moved away. Unable to resist, she looked for Derek. He had removed the beard and padding, and looked much as Henry must have as a young king—tall, strong, impeccably noble. But he wasn’t watching her. His warm eyes, sparkling with their golden glow of interest, were on Tina, who was telling him something with a great deal of animation. Leigh closed her eyes and forced herself to spin around toward the door and the road out of his life.

  She was reaching for the knob when she was abruptly and literally swept o
ff her feet. Stunned, she stared in Derek’s eyes.

  “You should have told me you were ready sooner, darling,” he said complacently, twirling in another circle to stride easily with his burden for the patio doors. “Tell everyone good-bye. A nice wave will do.”

  “Derek, I don’t know what kind of a stunt this is,” Leigh hissed as she was jostled in his arms. “But you can put me down this instant.”

  “I will put you down in a moment,” he promised. Raising his voice, he called, “Hey, Roger! Are the bags on the boat?”

  “James just put them in,” Roger called back jauntily.

  They were passing through the crowd, and everyone was innocently smiling at them. Tina, Angela, Bobby, Shane, and John. All smiling and waving as she protested.

  “Do something, someone!” Leigh wailed, astounded. “This man is abducting me! He’s taking me against my will. He’s—”

  They were out on the patio and Derek was moving calmly but swiftly down to the dock and the boat. Roger—Roger of all people!—trailed a few feet behind them.

  “Don’t be mad, Leigh,” he pleaded, chuckling as he watched her angry features. “We really think we’re looking after your best interests.”

  “Oooooooooh!” Leigh spat, before exploding into a stream of oaths. She squirmed and pounded at Derek uselessly. He merely shifted so that she hung ineffectually behind his back, her costume helping to keep her prisoner.

  And on the dock, releasing the ties on the Storm Haven, was James. Staid James, proper James, grinning away. “Have a nice trip, Mr. Mallory, Mrs. Tremayne.”

  “I don’t believe this!” Leigh moaned as Derek skillfully hopped onto the boat with her in his arms.

  “Bon voyage!” Roger yelled. He and James stood waving like a mismatched Laurel and Hardy as the Storm Haven drifted from her berth.

  “What now, Errol Flynn?” Leigh snapped from her ignominious position. “You can’t hold me and drive the boat or maneuver the sails!”

  “I’ll leave the sails for a while and we’ll motor,” Derek replied evenly. “And yes—I can hold you and turn on an ignition and steer!”