Roberta Leigh - Too Bad to be True

by Roberta Leigh

  A broad beam transfigured his face.

  'Then what are we waiting for?' he demanded jubilantly. 'Love can be wonderful, sweetheart, and I'll show you.'

  'How can you, when you've never been in love?'

  'Well, I-I——- '

  'All you know is passion,' she went on in the same innocent voice, though she was hard put to it not to kick him on the shins. 'So, much as I long to say yes, I'm afraid I can't. It wouldn't work.'

  'It will,' he persisted. 'Come away with me this weekend, and I'll prove it to you.'

  'No.'

  'But you just said you want me!'

  'In marriage. You know how deeply I feel about keeping myself pure for my husband.'

  As she spoke, Leslie realised the words came from her heart, and were not being said for effect. At last she knew exactly why she had always rejected casual affairs, why she had balked at the final surrender. Not that celibacy had been a problem, for she had sublimated her sexual energies in her work—until the past few months when she had found that work no longer satisfied her, and she had started envying her married friends who—predictably—envied her.

  'Forget marriage for the moment,' pleaded Dane. 'Let me make love to you and show you how wonderful it can be.'

  'If I said yes, I'd hate myself.'

  He shook his head disbelievingly. 'I never thought I'd hear a sophisticated girl like you talk such rubbish! You know something, Leslie? You're too good to be true, and that's bad for me! So all things considered, I think we should call it a day.'

  Shocked by his statement, she didn't know what to say.

  'I can't see you changing,' he continued, 'and as I won't, then I think your earlier suggestion was right. We should part while we're still friends. Besides, if you love me, as you say you do, you'll only get more hurt if we go on seeing each other. And the last thing I want is to have you on my conscience!'

  What conscience? Leslie thought bitterly, but didn't waste her breath asking.

  'If that's how you feel, Dane, there's no more to be said. Don't bother taking me home. I'll call a cab.'

  'Don't be melodramatic. We have to go on meeting professionally. You're designing my house.'

  'I'll ask one of the partners to take over.'

  'Oh no, you won't! You're the one I'm paying and I've no intention of letting you walk out on the job.'

  'You're a hard man,' she said bitterly, glad she could at least be truthful about something.

  'So I've been told.'

  But is he hard enough to stop seeing me? she questioned silently. At the moment he believed he could, yet she was banking on the hope that these past weeks—when she had fallen over herself to charm and disarm him—would be a powerful enough inducement to make him come back to her.

  The long drive to Beverly Hills was a silent one, and as they drew up outside her apartment, Leslie thanked him sweetly for the evening.

  'How can you be so calm?' he bit out, thumping his hand on the steering-wheel. 'I've told you I won't be taking you out again, yet you sit there looking at me as if—as if…'

  'As if I still love you?' she finished sadly. 'But I do. Feelings don't die overnight.'

  'But you should at least be angry with me.'

  'How can I be, when I'm sorry for you? You're missing out on so much happiness, Dane.'

  'Save your pity for those who need it,' he answered sourly. 'I prefer my freedom.'

  'I know.'

  She climbed out the car and walked away from him, but slowly, giving him the chance to come after her. It was only as she heard the screech of his tyres as he drove off that she realised he wouldn't, and chastened, she went across the lobby to the elevator.

  Alone in her apartment, she was forced to acknowledge that Dane had acted admirably. At no stage had he pretended he loved her. He wanted her on his own terms, and having accepted that he couldn't get her, he had cut his losses. Perhaps it was best this way. Though she despised him for his courtroom tactics, she was by no means sure she was tough enough to be an avenging angel. She simply hoped that one day he would get his deserts, and that she would be around to see it.

  That night she slept more soundly than she had in a long while, and awoke feeling refreshed and free.

  She was standing by the window, sipping her first coffee of the day, when the telephone rang. Dane? Heart pounding, she forced herself to let it ring twice more before answering it. But it was a nurse from the clinic, quietly telling her that the man she had loved like a father had died of another stroke ten minutes ago..

  'It was a merciful release for him,' the woman said sympathetically. 'Please remember that, and try not to be sad.'

  Leslie reminded herself of this when Robert was laid to rest three days later. His two sons and their families had flown in for the funeral, and she was astounded to see Charlene there too, dramatic in black. What a nerve the girl had! But at least she had the grace to sit at the back of the church, though she could not resist coming over to Leslie at the graveside.

  'I suppose you're surprised to see me here?' Charlene asked in her soft Southern drawl.

  'How perceptive of you!'

  'You're easy to read,' the girl retorted. 'You've never liked me, have you?'

  'No. I always knew why you married Robert—and you proved me right.'

  'I only got what I was entitled to. Anyway, he was so rich it didn't matter to him.'

  'I wasn't thinking of the money,' Leslie said, 'but of the way you sold your shares to Imtex. Robert would have given you the same price if you'd offered them to him.'

  'I wanted to, but Dane wouldn't let me.'

  Leslie stared at Charlene uncomprehendingly. i 'That's shaken you, hasn't it?' the redhead drawled. 'Maybe if you'd known, you wouldn't have dated him. Oh yes, I know you've been seeing him, because I saw you together one night at Ma Maison. In fact I nearly phoned to ask how you appeased your conscience! But I can see from your face that Robert didn't tell you it was Dane who did the deal with Imtex.'

  'I don't believe you.'

  'Ask Dane yourself. When they made me their offer I wanted to ask Robert if he could match it, but Dane said I'd be wasting my time because he wouldn't have the ready cash, and I'd have to wait months for it.'

  'You could have managed on your alimony,' Leslie snapped.

  'I know. But I had to do as Dane told me. When he agreed to represent me, he also insisted on managing my finances. Still, you're sharing in the money he's earned from me, so there's no need to look so sour.

  After all, he's using quite a whack of it to pay for the house you're building for him!'

  Sickened, Leslie turned away. No need to ask why Charlene had come to the funeral! Not to see Robert laid to rest, that was for sure, but to destroy Leslie's association with Dane.

  How furious she would be to know her disclosure had had the opposite effect, for Leslie's resolve not to seek personal revenge had disintegrated in the face of what she had just learned, and once again she determined to make Dane pay for his callous destruction of her stepfather's life.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Realising that getting Dane to marry her would be even harder than she had first thought, Leslie knew her only hope of wearing down his resistance was to play on his sympathy and pretend she couldn't live without him. On his own admission his interest in her went beyond the bedroom, and if she could get him to see how empty a purely sexual relationship was he might regard marriage to her as a real alternative.

  The fact that they were still professionally associated made it easy for her to infiltrate into his life again, for rarely a day went by when he didn't go to his house to see how the work was progressing, and she always made sure she was there at the same time.

  On the few occasions she missed him, she telephoned him with some trivial query, leaving him in no doubt that she was using it as an excuse to speak to him. And speak they did, often for half an hour or more, with Dane showing as much reluctance to say goodbye as she.

  She soon sensed tha
t meeting her or talking to her was becoming the focal point of his day, though he never suggested—nor even hinted—that they see each other socially. Damn him for taking her at her word! But he wasn't going to escape as easily as that, and she made a point of getting her dates to take her to all his favourite restaurants in the hope of bumping into him. When she did, which was at least fifty per cent of the time, he was always with a different girl—which meant he was still heartwhole!

  Sometimes their tables were close, and Leslie feigned jealousy by watching him constantly in the hope that he would notice. She even went so far as to buy a couple of dresses a size too large for her, knowing it would make it seem as if she were losing weight, while a beautician friend taught her how to achieve a wan, hollow-eyed look.

  Perusing the gossip columns, she became adept at picking out the parties Dane was likely to attend, and though they were the sort of glitzy affairs she had previously avoided like the plague, she knew enough 'right people' to secure invitations. A pretty girl was always a welcome addition, and admirers were soon clamouring for her attention, though she persisted in making it plain she had eyes only for Dane.

  Yet if her lovesick act was having an effect on him, outwardly he gave no sign of it, but continued on his merry bachelor way, wining and dining a gaggle of brainless beauties, and behaving as if he adored every one of them. How could a man of intelligence waste his time on nitwits? Leslie constantly asked herself, though she knew the answer only too well! After all, what wolf would settle for one lamb when an entire flock was at his bidding!

  The thought that she might be wasting her time trying to hook him occurred to her forcibly one morning when she met him at the house to discuss the new swimming-pool. He had clearly had a heavy night—though, irritatingly, the fine lines around his eyes and the hollows beneath them added interest to a face that was already too attractive for her peace of mind.

  'Something wrong?' he asked, catching her gaze.

  'No—why?'

  'You have a funny expression on your face—as if I've annoyed you.'

  Leslie shrugged off his comment, reminding herself to watch her step. 'I was thinking you look tired.'

  'I didn't get much sleep last night.'

  'You should stop playing Casanova for a while, and curl up in bed with a book,' she told him.

  'I tried that when I was dating you,'' he said drily, 'and of the two, I'll take a girl!'

  'Preferably a new one every time!' she added.

  His hand rose and touched her silky hair. 'I'd happily settle for one, if it could be you.'

  'Is that a proposal?'

  'Not of marriage.' He dropped his hand abruptly, and she gave a heavy sigh.

  'My luck I have to fall for a playboy misogynist!'

  'That sounds like a contradiction in terms!'

  'Not really. Lots of playboys basically fear women. That's why they avoid a relationship with one.' She turned a page of her notepad and stood poised, pen in hand. 'Now, shall we concentrate on the mosaics for the pool? Personally, I like blue and gold, but the choice is yours.'

  If he was taken aback by her sudden change of subject, he gave no sign of it, though she was aware he wasn't concentrating on what she was saying, for his attention wandered and she had to repeat herself several times. Clearly she had given him food for thought, and if luck was with her, he might not find it too indigestible!

  With the weekend looming, Leslie decided to kill two birds with one stone. Jack and Marybeth Foster, cousins on her mother's side, were staying at La Costa, a resort hotel near San Diego, where they had bought some land and asked her to build a holiday home for them. She had jumped at the chance, for she liked them immensely, and now that she had several suggestions in the drawing stage she decided to take them down and snatch a short vacation too. A change of scenery would do her good.

  'Why not go for longer?' Jim McNaughton, one of the senior partners, suggested. 'You haven't had a holiday in a year, and it's beginning to tell.'

  'You're a great morale-booster!' Leslie told him ruefully.

  Warm brown eyes regarded her with fatherly concern. 'You're still the most beautiful architect in Los Angeles—but you look a tired one!'

  'Enough said!' Leslie grinned, 'I'll take your advice and see you in a week.'

  Next morning saw her bowling along the highway, delighting in the smogless blue sky and golden sunshine. For the first time in months she felt carefree and relaxed. The open windows and sunshine roof of her car created a refreshing cross-breeze that ruffled her hair, and she pulled it loose from its restricting pony-tail and tossed the ribbon on the back seat, next to her tennis racket and golf clubs. It was ages since she had played either, but she knew there would be no shortage of partners, La Costa boasting more than two dozen courts and a championship golf-course. The hotel was also a health spa, which was the main reason her cousins were there!

  'Putting on weight is a helluva lot more fun than taking it off,' her cousin Jack grumbled that evening, as he watched Leslie tuck into a praline ice-cream topped by toasted nuts.

  'You're not making me feel the least bit guilty!' Leslie rejoined, having decided that while on vacation she would eat to her heart's content and to hell with Dane Jordan.

  'Glad to hear it,' grinned Jack. 'I'd hate to think I was cramping your appetite!'

  'It was our European trip which did the final damage,' Marybeth, a plump and pretty forty-year- old, added. 'Three-star menus every day put on three pounds every night!'

  Husband and wife exchanged glances and laughed, and Leslie basked in their happy companionship. So much for Dane and his sour views on marriage, when there were couples like Jack and Marybeth to give the lie to his cynicism! Jack had started work as a car salesman and now had one of the largest automobile franchises in San Francisco. He and Marybeth made no secret about enjoying the fruits of his success either, and were always fun to be with.

  'Why wait till you're old before enjoying your money?' was his favourite dictum, and he had put it into practice by deciding to build a holiday home as close to La Costa as possible. 'That way I can diet here by day and sleep in my own bed at night!'

  'We can look over the plans after dinner,' Leslie suggested now.

  'You look too tired, honey,' said Marybeth. 'Leave it till tomorrow afternoon. We're having the flab massaged off in the morning.'

  At three next day, Leslie went to their suite with her drawings. She had worked out various designs but personally liked only one of them. However, it was important to give a client a choice—even when they were relatives.

  'You'll have to make do with me,' Jack apologised, opening the door at her knock. 'Marybeth got her appointment wrong, and is having a massage right now.'

  'Shall we leave it till later, then?'

  'No. If I don't work with you, I'll have to work out in the gym!'

  Laughing, Leslie spread her drawings on the table, and for the rest of the afternoon they went through them in detail. To her delight, Jack chose her favourite design, said he didn't want to alter a thing, and suggested they open a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

  'You're here to diet,' Leslie reminded him.

  'What the heck! I feel like celebrating.'

  Several glasses later, they were both in mellow mood as they reminisced about the past. Before Leslie's mother had married Robert, Jack had been like a protective brother to her, and to this day Leslie looked on him as an uncle.

  'I'd better go and shower,' she said reluctantly, draining her glass. 'It's after five and I know you like to eat early.' Although there was a separate dining- room for health spa clients, the three of them dined each evening in the main restaurant.

  'I hope Marybeth will approve of the plans,' she added as she went to the door.

  'We're so much alike,' said Jack, 'she's bound to.'

  'You're the only husband I know who never says his wife doesn't understand him!' Leslie laughed, stepping into the hall.

  'Too right,' he agreed in his hear
ty salesman's voice, and glanced at the champagne in his hand. 'If she discovers I cheated on her this afternoon, all hell will break loose!'

  'Tell her a redhead tempted you and you couldn't resist!'

  A flash of white caught her eye, and half turning, she saw a broad-shouldered man in tennis gear striding towards her. For an instant she couldn't believe her eyes. Dane here? Was it pure chance or had he come in search of her?

  'She knows me too well to fall for that one.' Jack was speaking again, and Leslie forced herself to listen. 'Anyway, I'm a man, not a mouse, and I can do as I please.' He flung an arm across his young cousin's shoulders. 'I never realised how talented you were until this afternoon. You're everything I every hoped you'd be.'

  'Thanks.' She kissed his cheek. 'If I need a reference, I'll know where to come!'

  'You can count on that, honey. See you later.'

  As Jack closed the door of his suite, Leslie gave her attention to Dane. His short-sleeved Lacoste shirt revealed muscular arms, and the black hairs on his chest were visible through the fine white cotton. She was painfully aware of the brief shorts covering narrow hips above bronzed, sinewy legs, and wished he had chosen another resort instead of coming here and ruining her chance of forgetting him for a few days.

  'Hello there!' She forced a smile to her face. 'What a surprise!'

  'You can say that again!' He sounded and looked furious, his shoulders aggressively square, his mouth tight.

  'What's that supposed to mean?' She favoured him with one of her most melting looks.

  'Save the goo-goo eyes for the raunchy friend you've just left,' he snapped.

  For an instant Leslie thought she had misheard him. Surely Dane didn't think…? But the glitter in the brown eyes that travelled over her confirmed that he most certainly did!

  'Don't be silly,' she said aloud. 'Jack's a client, and a cousin.'

  'And I'm an apple and a pear!' Dane said furiously.

  'But it's true,' she insisted. What irony if she lost Dane through a genuine misunderstanding! It was something she couldn't let happen—not after the sleepless nights and hunger-filled days she had spent trying to snare him. 'Jack is my cousin, and I was in his suite discussing plans for a house I'm building for him and his wife. He's from San Francisco and… '