Roberta Leigh - Too Bad to be True

by Roberta Leigh

  'You may already have missed him,' his secretary echoed her thoughts, 'but I'll switch you through.'

  Clutching the receiver tightly to her ear, Leslie listened to it ring, her dismay increasing as it remained unanswered. She was on the verge of replacing it when she heard his voice, incisive and impatient.

  'Dane Jordan here.'

  'It's Leslie Watson.' She made her voice tremulous. 'I'm sorry to have left it so late, but I—but I've the most appalling headache and I'm afraid I can't make it tonight.'

  'You what?"

  Leslie was thankful he couldn't see the grin splitting her face from ear to ear as she repeated her excuse. 'I know it's't-terribly short notice,' she stammered, 'but I k-kept hoping I'd feel better, instead of which I've been feeling progressively worse.'

  'What have you taken for it?' he barked.

  'I've special tablets, but they don't seem to have worked. I'm just going to draw the blinds and go to bed. I'll be fine in the morning. I'm so sorry to let you down, Mr Jordan, do forgive me.'

  Gently replacing the receiver, Leslie danced a little jig around the room.

  'That's put paid to you, you egotistical swine!' she said out loud, and went into the kitchen to make herself a well-deserved coffee.

  Standing by the window drinking it, she gazed down at the communal swimming-pool where some residents were sunbathing. Her life was too busy for her to make much use of it, for even at weekends she brought files home with her, or visited the various sites she was working on to see how things were progressing.

  Robert had frequently chided her for being a workaholic, and she had tried to explain it away by saying it was because she wanted to be taken seriously as an architect.

  'Even my tutors at college predicted I'd throw up my career to marry and have babies!' she had told him. 'And I'm determined to prove them wrong.'

  'Even to the extent of never marrying and having babies?' Robert had teased.

  'No, of course not. But I want to establish my name first.'

  Remembering the conversation, she realised the years were passing fast. In a few months she would be twenty-seven, and if she wanted to be young enough to enjoy her children, she had better start thinking in terms of a husband. Trouble was, she hadn't met anyone she loved sufficiently to consider as a lifetime partner.

  With a sigh she went to don a bikini. Then with sunglasses on her nose and book in hand, she went down to the pool and stretched out on a sunbed.

  'Great to see you out here for a change.' It was Mrs Donovan, an elderly neighbour, sitting in the shade of a palm tree. 'It's about time you relaxed.'

  Leslie smiled as she oiled her shapely limbs and lay back to let the warmth of the sun seep into her. She was crazy not to do this more often. Closing her eyes, she lay back luxuriously, feeling the tension ebb away from her, and acknowledging as it did how edgy she had been all weekend at the trick she had planned to play on Dane Jordan.

  'Trying to make your headache worse?' A deeply sarcastic voice above her made her eyes fly open to stare into dark accusing ones.

  In one swift glance she took in the towering figure in an impeccably cut white dinner-jacket that emphasised the jet-black hair, a lock of which had escaped as the man bent his head to glower at her.

  'Of all the two-timing, conniving little…!' Words failed him, and he hauled her roughly to her feet, his hands hard as iron. 'I should have guessed you had something like this in mind when you accepted my invitation. You never had any intention of coming with me, did you?'

  'I've got a headache,' she protested weakly.

  'Like I'm pregnant!' He pulled her along the side of the pool to the back entrance of her block.

  'Where are you taking me?' she gasped.

  'To your apartment to change. You've barely ten minutes, so you'd better be quick!'

  'I've no intention of changing.'

  'Then I'll do it for you!'

  They reached her front door, and grabbing the key from her canvas holdall, he inserted it in the lock.

  'Get changed,' he repeated, pushing her into the hall. 'And no funny games either. I'm not in the mood.'

  Nor did he look it. She had never seen anyone in such a monumental temper. Knowing when she was beaten, Leslie hurried to her bedroom and did as she was told, one part of her furious, the other admiring him for his perspicacity in guessing she had been lying. He really was a worthy opponent!

  Despite herself she saw the humour of it, though it died quickly as she crossed to her dressing-table to brush her hair and saw the photograph of her mother and stepfather. Dane Jordan might have won this round, but she would make sure she won the next.

  'You have five more minutes,' he called, rapping impatiently on the door, and she hurriedly zipped up her strapless red chiffon dress, stepped into high- heeled gold sandals and attached a pair of gold hoops to her lobes.

  Lack of time forced her to keep her make-up to a minimum, but excitement had whipped colour into her cheeks and her eyes glowed like blue jewels. Not that the man waiting for her took any notice of her appearance, for the instant she came out of the bedroom he bundled her unceremoniously down to his car.

  It was not a Honda this time, she noted, but a silver- grey Rolls, with a chauffeur in a uniform to match. Pity, she thought, sinking into the back, for it meant Dane Jordan could concentrate on her. Deliberately she turned her head to the mirror set into one of the side-panels, and fiddled with her hair, teasing out the long blonde strands into a more bouffant style.

  'Leave your hair alone,' he said tersely. 'It's perfect as it is.'

  'Why, thank you, Mr Jordan.' 'Dane, please. A man who came near to murdering you deserves to be called by his first name.'

  Hiding a grin, Leslie settled back primly, her skirts wafting around her.

  'Tell me,' he went on conversationally, 'what have I done to deserve your animus? I know you haven't liked me from the start, but I still can't figure out why.'

  It was a great temptation to tell him, but it would give her only momentary pleasure, and she wanted a far more lasting satisfaction.

  'Let's say your type doesn't appeal to me,' she shrugged. 'Conquests come too easily to you, and I don't intend being another one.' 'You haven't been asked yet!' 'But you will, won't you?'

  'Probably,' he said drily. 'Though right now I'd rather wring your neck than take you to bed.'

  The matter-of-fact manner in which he said this startled her, and she threw him an indignant look, which died as she saw the glitter of amusement lurking in his eyes. Damn him! He knew exactly how to rile her.

  'You do yourself an injustice,' he went on more gently. 'I asked you out because I find you amusing as well as lovely to look at. Beautiful girls are a dime a dozen, and if that was all I wanted, I wouldn't aggravate myself pursuing you.' 'You're pursuing me?' she echoed. 'Why do you think I waited a week for you to come out and inspect my house?' he asked bluntly. 'People normally jump to it when I ask for something, and if they don't, I find someone who will.'

  'Are you talking personally as well as professionally?'

  'Both.'

  'But you're willing to make an exception of me because of my mind?'

  'That's right.' His eyes roamed over her slowly. 'You're beautiful, Leslie. One of the most beautiful girls I've seen, but you have something else that intrigues me even more.'

  'My I.Q.'

  'And your sharp tongue. The truth is, you don't bore me. And that makes you worth your weight in gold!'

  Which I would be, if I married you, then engaged a lawyer like you to handle my divorce, she thought, quickly lowering her eyes so that he wouldn't see the glimmer in them glow into brilliant life. Instinctively she had hit on the perfect way of cutting him down to size. Talk about the biter being bit! She'd give Dane Jordan such a dose of his own medicine that he'd choke on it.

  Vengeance was not an admirable trait, she knew, yet in this case she felt no pang of conscience. Indeed the more she thought of her idea, the more blissful was th
e prospect of dragging him through the courts and tabloids—as he had done to Robert and countless others. She would get a huge settlement out of him, then announce she was giving it all to charity!

  'We're here.' He broke into her thoughts, and she dragged herself back to the present, fixing a smile on her face as she stepped from the car to confront the crowds come to ogle the celebrities.

  As they wended their way into the auditorium, Dane was stopped frequently by people whose faces Leslie recognised from television and cinema screens, and it came forcibly home to her how well known he was. Even men from whom she knew he had extracted vast alimonies seemed to harbour no grudge as they slapped his shoulder and reminded him he hadn't come to dinner lately, or played the promised game of golf or tennis. Maybe if Robert had only had to give Charlene money, he too might have been equally sanguine about it. But because Charlene had been allowed to keep those damned shares… With an effort Leslie pushed the whole ugly episode to the back of her mind and followed Dane to their seats.

  The ceremony was exciting though long, and by the time it drew to a close, the headache she had pretended had become a real one. As they rose to leave, her vision misted over and she clutched on to the well-muscled arm next to her.

  'I'm not acting now,' she said faintly. 'I-I honestly do have sledgehammers in my temples.'

  'What have you eaten today?' he asked.

  'A slice of toast and a cup of coffee.'

  'You're a fool, do you know that?' he spoke tersely, though his hands were gentle as he guided her out to the street. 'Can you manage a hundred-yard walk? I arranged for Oaks to meet us a few blocks away, otherwise we'd be hours getting through the crush outside the theatre.'

  She nodded meekly and he walked her slowly to the car. After an eternity she found herself sinking back against the soft leather, and she sighed with relief and closed her eyes, only opening them again when she felt a glass being put into her hand.

  'Best cure for a headache,' Dane said. 'Drink it, then have this.'

  'This' turned out to be a cracker and a slice of cheese.

  'I always keep something in the car in case I forget to eat,' he explained, seeing her surprise.

  'In the Honda too?' she asked with a faint smile, as she downed the foamy concoction and nibbled at the snack.

  'I keep food in all my cars,' he said drily, 'and a girl in every bedroom! I mean one has to be prepared, don't you think?'

  A dimple came and went in her cheek. 'Definitely!'

  Then remembering her brilliant plan, she knew that if she were successful there would be only one girl in one bedroom—herself!

  And with a ring on her wedding finger too!

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Leslie knew it would take all the wile and guile she possessed to get Dane to marry her, for he was a canny bachelor who had spent his adult life shying away from commitment to a female. Easier to net a swallow than this particular specimen of dominant masculinity!

  In the depth of her heart she admitted that had she met him under different circumstances, she could easily have fallen in love with him, for he was handsome, intelligent, amusing… The list was endless, and she hurriedly switched her thoughts back to her plan and what it entailed.

  First, she would be the loving wife; make him so deliriously happy that he would boast of it to all his friends. Then, after lulling him into a state of bliss, she would start doing things to annoy him. With luck she might even goad him into losing his temper and hitting her! That should be good for another hundred thousand dollars at least, and make an even heftier sum for her to give to charity.

  But first things first. Dane had categorically stated he would never marry, so how to disarm him? He was too clever to believe her if she professed to feel the same as he did, so she would take the wind out of his sails by saying the exact opposite! She would tell him marriage was her prime goal, and that she wouldn't consider anything else if and when she fell in love. Then she would inform him that as his ideas were diametrically opposed to hers, she would only agree to go on seeing him if they remained platonic friends.

  'Platonic friends?' Dane echoed, his reaction bemused when she made this statement to him a few nights later at dinner.

  'Why not? I'm sure there are plenty of occasions when you don't feel like making love and just want an intelligent girl to talk to.'

  'I wouldn't say "plenty"!'

  'You know what I mean.'

  'Very clearly. But even if I agree to your suggestion, how do you know I still won't end up making a pass at you? After all, you're very passable material!'

  'If you make one, I'll sidestep!'

  He chuckled, then leaning back in his chair, eyed her speculatively. He had been out of town on a case and had called her the moment he had returned, sounding surprised when she had instantly agreed to have dinner with him. Now, of course, he knew why, and she could see his mind ticking over, as if looking for hidden snags.

  'There's only one thing that puzzles me,' he said slowly. 'I can't believe there haven't been plenty of men willing to marry you.'

  'Oh, there have. But I wasn't interested until I'd established my career.'

  'But now you're ready to pick a husband?'

  'When I find the right one, yes. Meanwhile it would be nice to know I can fall back on an interesting and good-looking escort.'

  'While I can fall back on the female equivalent!'

  'With the added advantage of knowing that as I've accepted you're not a marrying man, I won't be setting my sights on you.'

  He quirked an eyebrow. 'There has to be a catch somewhere.'

  'Not if we keep to the rules and only see one another when we've nothing better to do.'

  'I can't think of anything better than being with you,' he admitted. 'If you didn't make marriage a stipulation, we could have a lot of fun.'

  'If you keep harping on that, I won't see you at all.' Leslie gathered her purse and went to stand.

  'Don't go,' he said swiftly, putting up a restraining hand. 'I'll play it your way, my angel, I promise.'

  She nodded and gave him a sweet smile, convinced he was lying in his back teeth!

  For two weeks Dane proved her wrong by keeping to their agreement, then all at once he started pursuing her with the ferocity of a hungry lion chasing a tasty doe, and only her daily calls to the nursing-home where her stepfather still lay in a coma prevented her from succumbing to his powerful charm.

  But Dane was no fool, and realising his tactics were getting him nowhere, he reverted to his previous platonic behaviour, giving her no more than a chaste goodnight kiss on her cheek, and accepting her refusal to see him as often as he wanted.

  Leslie knew he was playing a waiting game, and decided to give him a few more weeks' grace. If he didn't genuinely fall for her by then, she would have to call it a day.

  She toyed with the notion of doing so now, for he was beginning to occupy too much of her thoughts for her peace of mind. On the evenings they didn't meet she kept wondering what he was doing and with whom, hating him for his ability to relegate her to one compartment of his life. Yet wasn't she doing the same with him, by dating other men? Unfortunately her dates no longer seemed pleasurable, and twice last week she had refused to see Peter Denver in the hope Dane would call—which of course he hadn't.

  Yet this week he had seen her three times, and she wondered if she was beginning to penetrate his armour. Well, she wouldn't know until she put it to the test.

  They were dining at their favourite restaurant in Santa Monica when she decided to do so. Throughout their meal she kept giving heartfelt sighs, and though ravenous enough to eat a horse, merely picked at her food.

  'Anything wrong?' Dane regarded her untouched plate.

  'I'm afraid there is. You see, I—well, I don't think we should go on seeing each other. This must be the eighth time, and… '

  'Twelfth,' he corrected. 'But who's counting, and why shouldn't we see each other?'

  'Because I'm hardly dating anyone el
se—and that wasn't the idea. Elliot called me this evening, just after I'd agreed to see you, and I had to put him off, which didn't please him one bit.'

  'So what?'

  'So he wants to marry me. He's an architect and '

  'You could form your own partnership,' Dane said sarcastically, his tone giving Leslie a thrill of triumph.

  'That was in my mind too,' she lied, 'except I don't love him.'

  'Ah well, if you want love and marriage…'

  'Don't tease,' she pouted. 'I'm very muddled and it's all your fault.'

  'How come?'

  'Because you've made me realise how boring Elliot is! So you see, you're bad for me.'

  'And you're bad for me,' Dane acknowledged.

  Leslie's heart sank. Was he going to take up her suggestion that they part? If he did, her entire scheme was in ruins.

  'You're fun to be with,' he went on, 'and I find I'd rather be talking with you than making love to some dumb-bell.'

  'I think that's extremely interesting, Dane. One day you might even change your mind about not getting married.'

  'Pigs will fly first! Look, Leslie, I can't go on like this either. I want you so much it's driving me crazy!' He leaned across the table, and the pink glow of the sunset bordering the shimmering ocean beyond the window lent softness to his chiselled features. 'I'm putting my cards on the table because I don't want you accusing me of taking advantage of you. But this platonic idea of yours is giving me too many sleepless nights! Dammit, the thought of you is even interfering with my work, and that's never happened before! If you'd only come to bed with me, I'd be able to get you out of my system.'

  Leslie's blood boiled with fury, but she managed to look ingenuous. 'How many times would it take? A week, a month?'

  'I hadn't thought in terms of time,' he said thickly. 'All I know is I won't be able to think straight until I possess you.'

  'I'd like that more than anything in the world,' she whispered, then drawing a deep breath, played her ace. 'I wasn't going to tell you how I feel about you, Dane, but hiding it seems so childish and—well, I want you to know how much I've grown to care for you