Roberta Leigh - Too Bad to be True

by Roberta Leigh

  'I think we're due to give a party,' he announced over breakfast, a few days afterwards. 'Our house won't be ready for months, and we owe so many people—if you're up to coping with it, that is? I don't want to put a strain on you.'

  Guiltily Leslie shook her head. 'I'm fine, dear. You fuss over me too much.'

  'I enjoy fussing over you.' He hesitated. 'When are you seeing the speialist again?'

  'I see him regularly for check-ups, but I'm afraid we still can't… '

  'That wasn't why I was asking,' he intervened. 'I'm not putting any pressure on you, sweetheart. I just want to know if you're getting better.'

  'I'm doing fine,' she asserted, and quickly returned to the subject of the party. 'Give me a list of who you want to invite and I'll call them.'

  Dane glanced at his watch and hastily downed his coffee. 'I must run, darling. I'm meeting the District Attorney at eight-thirty.'

  'Don't tell me he's getting divored?'

  Dane shook his head, but vouchsafed nothing further. 'I'll let you have the list this evening.'

  He brought it home with him, and the next day Leslie set about the arrangements.

  'I forgot to ask if it's formal,' he questioned as the day of the party drew nearer.

  'Informal,' she said. 'I'm sorry I didn't think to ask you.'

  'No matter. You're the boss in household affairs!'

  But what about affairs outside the house? she thought, and wondered if he was indulging in any. If he were, it would account for his easy acceptance of their celibate marriage. Yet when did he find time to see someone else? He worked like a demon by day, and was with her each night. No, much as she would like to see him as a roue, she had to give the devil his due and admit he was behaving exemplarily. Of course she had caught him looking at her on occasion like a hungry shark, but never by word or gesture had he said anything to make her feel guilty or unhappy.

  'You will, won't you?'

  Startled out of her reverie, she looked at him blankly.

  'I asked if you were going to buy yourself a new dress for the party,' he repeated.

  'I don't think so. If it's informal there's no need.'

  'There's every need,' he said drily. 'Your idea of "informal" is trousers, but my friends would see it as wearing their second-best diamonds!'

  'I take it you want me to splash out on a fancy little number, then?'

  'The fancier the better. Why not try that new boutique on Rodeo Drive? I've heard they have a fantastic selection.'

  'How come you're so knowledgeable?' she asked sweetly.

  'Jane Barret was talking about it.' He named the latest divorcee he was acting for. 'She's just bought herself a whole new wardrobe there.'

  'With the outrageous settlement you got her, I'm surprised she didn't buy the shop!'

  'She's thinking about it,' he chuckled.

  'Don't you have any conscience?' Leslie snapped. 'She was only married five years and you got her a million for everyone of them.'

  'But think what her husband got!' Dane gave an exaggerated leer, and Leslie controlled her temper.

  'Anyway, try that boutique,' he repeated. 'You might find something you like.'

  'As they only stock Valentinos, Ungaros and Lagerfelds, I'm bound to. I hope you realise how much they cost?'

  'I can afford it, sweetheart. Buy whatever takes your fancy.'

  His answer played directly into her hands.

  Taking 'whatever takes your fancy' literally, Leslie went to the boutique later that morning. Their clothes were stunning, and she found it impossible to decide between the four outfits they showed her. But then why bother with anything as mundane as a decision when Dane could afford the lot?

  Airily she bought them all, but hearing the total cost, almost changed her mind, almost, but not quite. After all, she was only carrying out her master plan. With a flourish she wrote out a cheque amd went on her merry way, rushing from store to store and spending money like water.

  Dane was not forgotten either. It would have been selfish to spend his money entirely on herself! And though she entered the Porsche showroom with some misgivings, they disappeared the instant she seated herself behind the wheel of their newest and most expensive model. A short spin around the block decided her, and she bought it and asked for it to be delivered at eight o'clock that evening.

  The salesman showed no surprise, for this was after all movieland, where affluence had reached its apotheosis, and forty-thousand-dollar cars were snapped up quicker than four-thousand-dollar ones.

  The Porsche was her last purchase, and she made her way home on a high, her adrenalin stimulated by this final act of profligacy. Triumphantly she recalled Dane's interpretation of her stepfather's cancellation of Charlene's credit cards as the action of a Scrooge, rather than that of a husband worried by his wife's orgy of extravagance. Well, now she was giving Dane a taste of his own medicine!

  'Had a good day, darling?' he asked as he walked through the door later that evening.

  'Wonderful,' she enthused. 'Though whether you'll agree with me is another matter.' Taking his hand, she led him into the bedroom.

  A lesser man might have blanched at sight of the clothes piled on the bed, and the boxes, bags and shoes strewn higgledy-piggledy over the floor. Deliberately Leslie hadn't tidied up, deciding the impact would be far more devastating this way. But to her astonishment Dane appeared unperturbed and merely gave her bottom an affectionate pat.

  'Aiming to make the best-dressed woman's list at one go?' he smiled.

  'I hope you don't think I've been too extravagant?' Leslie said in a little-girl voice. 'But you did say I could get anything I want, so I did. And more to your taste.' Cunningly she placed the onus on him.

  'I like the way you dress,' he protested.

  'But you think it's a bit understated, don't you?'

  'Let's just say that with your looks and figure I think you can afford to be more dramatic.'

  'Tell me if this is dramatic enough,' Leslie said, and rummaging among the pile for an Ungaro, went swiftly into the bathroom to put it on.

  Emerging, she struck a model girl's pose. 'Like it?'

  Dane's astonished silence was answer enough as he gawped at the frou-frou concoction of black lace over turquoise silk, sashed just below the hip, and flounced to well above the knee. The bodice was minimal, sustained only by two narrow straps.

  'You won't fade into the background wearing that!' he told her.

  'You sound as if you don't like it?'

  'On the contrary. It's stunning and you look gorgeous.'

  Leslie gave an audible sigh of relief. 'For a moment I had visions of returning it.' She took a pile of bills from her handbag and handed them to him. 'Do you want to look through these before dinner?'

  'IH reserve my indigestion for afterwards! And take that worried look of your face. I'm delighted you've bought yourself a few things.'

  So this was what he called a few things! Well, she would see if she could do better next time. 'Wait till you see what I bought you,' she said. 'You might change your mind!'

  'I doubt it. I enjoy receiving gifts—even when I'm paying for them! I'll close my eyes so you can surprise me,' he said good-naturedly.

  Leslie suppressed a giggle as she pictured his face when he saw the scarlet Porsche.

  A knock at the door interrupted them, and Pedro came in to say a Mr Bonner was waiting downstairs to see her.

  'Tell him we'll be down in five minutes.' Leslie pretended not to notice Dane's puzzled expression and went back into the bathroom.

  'Who is this guy?' he called after her.

  'No one special.'

  'Then why are we going downstairs to see him?'

  'Because there's no need for him to come up.'

  'You must have a diploma in evasion,' Dane muttered as she reappeared.

  'Coming from a lawyer, I take that as a compliment!'

  'I hate mysteries,' he grumbled as they stepped into the elevator and she pressed the g
arage button. 'What's it all about?'

  'Stop being an old grouse and relax. I've told you it's a surprise.'

  But the surprise was Leslie's. Expecting Dane to show anger—at the very least shock—he disappointed her by being delighted.

  'What a beauty!' He ran a hand along the sleek bonnet. 'I couldn't have bought myself anything better!'

  'And you don't think it's too expensive?'

  'It's cheaper than a Rolls!' He patted the bonnet again. 'We'll take her for a run after dinner,' he said as the salesman left. 'We could go to the Polo Lounge for a drink.'

  'You just want to show off the car,' Leslie smiled, amused by the touch of the small boy in even Dane.

  'And my beautiful wife too,' he added, and putting an arm affectionately round her waist, walked with her back to the elevator.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Leslie decided to wait until after the party before considering any further ways of annoying Dane. She had to admit she was finding it increasingly easy to put off till tomorrow what she should have done yesterday, and had actually reached the point of asking herself whether it might not be better to forget the past and try to build a real future with him.

  There was no denying she had found a certain happiness with him. And sexual pleasure too, for she wanted him so much, it was all she could do to carry on with her pretended ill-health!

  Often, when they were alone, she felt herself on the verge of confessing everything, only to be held back by the fear that if he learned the real reason she had married him, it would kill stone-dead any feelings he might have for her.

  Yet what exactly were his feelings? He was still master of his tongue, and even at the height of his desire, the word 'love' never passed his lips, which went to prove that whatever else she might think of him, she could never accuse him of being a liar!

  But though he didn't love her, he enjoyed hearing her say how much she loved him. And the more she professed it, the happier he was, basking in her affection like a cat in front of a fire. Slowly but surely she had noticed a change in him: a greater desire to be alone with her, which reaffirmed her belief that when she finally walked out on him, his ego would suffer a terrible blow.

  But that lay ahead. For the moment she would remain the loving wife.

  The party they gave was an enormous success, and no one seeing Leslie play the ecstatically happy hostess would have guessed at the turmoil raging within her.

  She had taken extra pains with her appearance, and was relieved to find how make-up could transform a drawn face into a vibrant one. Her dress helped too, and the admiring glances of Dane's friends told her she had made the right choice. The clinging turquoise and black silk showed off her body to perfection, while the eye-catching length, exposing her shapely legs encased in sheer black tights, made her appear even taller than she was.

  'I guess your next party will be in your new house,' Beverly commented when dinner was over and the staff were clearing the centre of the room for dancing. She and Leslie had struck up a good friendship and lunched together once a week. 'I drove by it yesterday and went in and nosed around. Hope you don't mind?'

  'Why should I?' Leslie smiled. 'I've already told you you're welcome to.'

  'Am I interrupting anything?'

  It was Caldwell, come to claim his wife for a rumba, and a few seconds later Leslie found herself in the arms of Hal Dawson, Dane's close friend and accountant. Tall, and well-built, he was good-looking in a laid-back way, with fair skin, light grey eyes and sleek blond hair. He had been at college with Dane, and their careers had followed equally successful paths.

  'I hear you're off to La Costa tomorrow,' he said conversationally, as they moved around the floor.

  'Yes. I'm meeting my cousins there. I'm building a house for them nearby, and they're spending a week at the Spa. I'm only sorry Dane's too busy to come with me.'

  'So am I. He drives himself too hard. You should get him to slow down.'

  'He loves his work.'

  'He loves you more, and he'd listen to you.'

  'If that were true he'd stop handling divorce!'

  'Given his background,' Hal said, 'I can see why he enjoys it.'

  'What's his background to do with it?'

  Hal stumbled, and apologised profusely, explaining he danced so rarely that he was rusty. But Leslie knew it was her question, rather than his ineptitude, that had made him clumsy.

  'Don't pretend with me, Hal. Just tell me why Dane's background has affected his career.*

  'Well, it's—er————- ' Hal stopped, clearly uncomfortable. 'Heck! I wish I'd kept my mouth shut.'

  'But you didn't and you can't backtrack now.'

  'I just took it for granted Dane had told you about his father,' Hal muttered, still reluctant to come clean.

  'All he said was his father died years ago.'

  'He hates talking about it,' Hal conceded. 'I only learned the story myself the night we graduated, when Dane had drunk too much. But I'm surprised he hasn't told you.'

  Because he doesn't love me, Leslie thought, and was inexplicably saddened that Dane should have kept secret something which, according to his closest friend, had affected his life.

  'Come on, Hal, quit stalling,' she said sensing he would be more forthcoming if she played it lightly.

  'I'd rather let Dane tell you.'

  So much for the lightness act! Leslie could cheerfully have shaken him.

  'OK,' she shrugged. 'Have it your way, But it might have helped me understand him better. He's still quite a mystery to me.'

  Hal went on dancing in silence, his expression indicative of a desire to answer her question, but a reluctance to break his friend's confidence.

  'Let's go on to the terrace,' he pronounced unexpectedly, and steered her outside to a red and white striped hammock at the far end.

  Even after they had settled themselves on the gently swinging seat he said nothing, and Leslie had almost decided he wasn't going to when he spoke.

  'Dane's father walked out on his wife and family for someone young enough to be his daughter. And this apparently after fifteen years' wedded bliss—or so his had wife thought.

  'I see.' And Leslie did. Saw so much more than she had bargained for, and got a totally new slant on Dane's character. But there was more to come, and as she heard it, she was stunned.

  'As if walking out on his wife and young children wasn't bad enough,' Hal continued, 'the bastard actually sold his business, took out a huge mortgage on his home, cleaned out their joint bank account, and disappeared into the blue beyond, so Mrs Jordan couldn't even sue for maintenance! It wasn't until years later—when he was killed in a car crash—that she found out he'd been living in Arizona.'

  'What a dreadful story! You read about things like that, yet never imagine them happening to people you know. But why didn't Mrs Jordan hire a private detective to look for him?'

  'She couldn't afford to! Every cent she had went on keeping the girls at college, and Dane at school. With the help of her bank manager she opened a dry- cleaning store, and only sold it when her daughters were married and Dane had established his career. The rest you know.'

  Leslie nodded. Easy to understand now why Dane always represented the wife in a divorce case; why he showed no mercy for the man. He obviously associated every female client with his deserted mother, and their husband with the father who had to be made to pay for abandoning his wife and children. The hurt boy had become the hurt man, and because he had seen how iove' had destroyed his father's integrity, he had determined never to marry or be controlled by love himself.

  Thoughtfully Leslie rubbed the wedding ring on her finger. Yet despite his feelings, Dane had capitulated to marriage, and who was to say he wouldn't eventually succumb to love too?

  'I hope you won't let on that I've told you all this?' Hal said nervously, 'I'm sure Dane will eventually tell you.'

  'I won't breathe a word,' Leslie promised. 'Anyway, his mother's coming to stay with us at the end of
the month, so he's sure to mention something before she arrives.'

  'If he doesn't, I bet Mrs Jordan will. She's a disarmingly honest and charming woman. An ideal mother-in-law.'

  'You should know!' 'Leslie couldn't resist saying, for Hal was in the process of unhitching himself for the third time.

  'For my next marriage,' he retorted, rising and pulling her up with him, 'I intend finding myself an orphan!'

  Laughing, they returned to the dance-floor.

  It was two o'clock before the party broke up, and with the departure of the last guest, Leslie heaved an audible sigh of relief.

  'Glad it's over?' asked Dane as she flopped into an armchair and kicked off her black silk pumps.

  'Glad to get out of these.' She massaged her toes. 'They're sitting shoes, not dancing ones!'

  'Beats me why women torture themselves in the name of fashion. You should have worn flat heels.'

  'They wouldn't go with the dress!'

  'Anything would go with that dress. You were the belle of the ball.'

  'Thank you, kind sir,' she smiled.

  'Hal seemed to think so too.' Dane's voice was casual, though the deep brown eyes were probing. 'He paid you a helluva lot of attention.'

  'Stop playing the jealous husband,' she reproved. 'He's your best friend!'

  'Then what was my best friend saying to you on the terrace? Confiding the story of his life?'

  Leslie nearly blurted out 'No, yours,' but remembering her promise to Hal, stopped herself.

  'His marriages, actually.'

  'They're hardly a state secret!'

  'Don't you believe me?' ,

  'Should I?'

  There was no mistaking Dane's tone now, and angered by it, Leslie stood up. 'I refuse to argue with you over nothing. I'm going to bed.'

  She went to walk past him, but he caught her arm and swung her round to face him.

  'I don't consider being made a fool of in my own home nothing,' he grated.

  'I wasn't making a fool of you,' Leslie fumed. 'You're making a fool of yourself! Hal and I were simply talking, not making it with each other.' Recollecting the part she was supposed to be playing, she battened down her anger and softened her voice. 'You know how I feel about you, darling, How could you think I'd bear another man to touch me?'