by Joan Reeves
"If you'd just let me fly home, I could pack and be back in a couple of days."
"Somehow, I don't trust you to do that so let's not discuss it again."
"What do you plan to do, spend every minute with me to ensure that I don't skip town?" Ally grumbled.
"If necessary." He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Actually, that wouldn't be much of a hardship. He could think of some fun ways to pass the hours.
Ally sighed. "All kidding aside, I really do need to go back to Dallas fairly soon. I've got an office, a job, and clients that I am responsible too."
He frowned. "I didn't think of that. Will your boss fire you if you take off?"
Ally couldn't resist the opportunity he offered her. "Actually, I'm the boss."
"What do you mean?"
"It's my company. I own a small accounting firm."
"A number cruncher, huh? I must say I'm surprised."
"I've worked hard to get ahead, and I'm good at what I do. I love my work. And my clients love me."
"So if you're the boss then it shouldn't be a problem to take off," he said as if that closed the subject.
Ally realized she shouldn't have been so eager to impress him with her accomplishments. "Right," she admitted reluctantly. "I can have my assistant handle things unless an emergency arises."
He looked at her appraisingly. "Good. I never suspected you had a head for business. You always hated the fact that I was so driven, but I suspect you're a little bit driven too. It's not every woman who owns her own business."
His assessment warmed her. Her attitude softened a little. "I guess I could use a little time off. I worked so hard to get through college and then to prove myself that I've never had a real vacation in years."
The idea of her working that hard made him uncomfortable. "I would have given you the money to go to college," he said impulsively.
"It was better for me to do it myself. I didn't even take help from my parents."
They rode in silence for a while. Ally noticed they had entered a residential area of subtly-lit mansions set on beautifully landscaped lawns.
"Do your parents know you came down here?" Burke asked suddenly.
Ally shook her head vigorously. "No, and if I'm lucky, they won't find out. They still haven't gotten over our sudden marriage."
"And equally sudden divorce?" he asked.
She nodded. "I never could figure out why they didn't put up a bigger fight when you showed up a month after we met with an engagement ring in your pocket."
"Engagement ring?" He laughed. "I don't know if that pinpoint diamond could properly be called an engagement ring. Did you toss that pitiful excuse for a ring into the Trinity River on your way back to Dallas when you left me?"
Ally didn't say anything. She still had that ring and the matching gold wedding band. It still brought a tear to her eye each time she came across them in her jewelry box.
"Is this your neighborhood?" she asked, changing the subject.
Burke turned left into a driveway that curved toward a large contemporary style house made of cedar, stone, and huge expanses of glass. It gave an overall impression of sharp angles thrusting against the night sky. He pressed a button on the visor as he drove to the rear of the house. A double-size garage door opened. He pulled in and parked next to a hulking black Chevy pickup truck.
Ally was awestruck. She'd done very well in her career, but Burke had obviously done far better with his software company. "This house is yours?"
"Be it ever so humble."
"Looks as if that old nose to the grindstone paid off in a big way." She felt disquieted by the signs of wealth everywhere. When she and Burke had married, they'd been on an equal economic footing. Both his and her families were solidly middle-class. She and Burke were young and penniless with him in college and her just out of high school.
At the back door, he punched in a security code on a keypad then made a sweeping bow to her. "Mi casa es su casa."
Ally sighed. "Yeah, I guess your house is my house. But only for a couple of weeks."
Chapter 8
Three days later, Ally decided that if she couldn't get to a supermarket to stock up on some munchies that she would probably die of starvation before the two weeks were up.
She hurried down the wide hallway that led to the master bedroom. The hidden spotlights overhead weren't on so, thankfully, she didn't have to look at his collection of art that lined both walls. She hated the abstracts. They were cold and lifeless, just like everything else in the house.
When she'd commented that she didn't know he liked modern art, he'd said, "I think my taste in art probably runs more to dogs playing poker. This is investment stuff. It's appreciated a hundred and fifty per cent since I bought it."
"At least it's good for something," she muttered as she passed the huge canvasses. Personally, if she were going to invest in art, she'd make sure it was something she liked even if it was a velvet picture of tough-looking canines playing draw poker.
Ally took a deep breath before she knocked on his bedroom door. When he didn't answer, she called, "Burke? Are you awake?" She'd made a point to get up before seven so she could catch him before he had breakfast. When there was no answer, she knocked harder, hoping Deirdre Henry, his housekeeper, didn't hear her.
Deirdre the Drill Sergeant should be preparing Burke's breakfast though so she should be safe. After a minute, Ally eased the door open and peeked in. She could hear him before she saw him. He snored softly. "Burke, are you awake?"
Dumb question. Obviously, he had overslept. She looked down at him. The covers were tangled about his waist. His muscled chest was covered with a fine sprinkle of hair that was sandy-colored. One hairy leg lay exposed. Ally's tongue darted out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. In the dim morning light, he looked like every woman's dream. Too late, she realized that his snoring had ceased. The blanket moved as if it had a life of its own.
"See something you like?" Burke asked, his voice husky with sleep and something else that she didn't even want to think about.
"Not particularly," Ally lied. "Sorry I had to wake you, but there's something we have to discuss." She made her voice brusque and business-like.
He patted the side of the bed. "Sit down, and tell me what it is."
Ally's heartbeat went crazy. "Oh, no thanks. I'm fine standing. Thanks anyway," she babbled.
"Not afraid, are you?"
"Why on earth would I be afraid?"
He shrugged. The blanket moved, and a small puffed up over the area below his waist. And the covers shifted down a big more. Ally's eyes rounded. She couldn't help but examine the extra inch of skin that the shifted blanket exposed. Her eyes darted to the tented fabric. She swallowed hard. Oh, my goodness. She imagined sliding her hand under the blanket and stroking him. Everywhere.
Abruptly she turned away. "I can catch you later. It's not really that important." She headed for the door.
He uttered one word in a deceptively quiet voice. "Chicken."
That stopped her cold. She turned. "What did you say?"
"You heard me. You don't trust yourself around me." He folded his arms beneath his head and stared into her eyes.
Ally could not stop her eyes from glancing down the length of his body. Oh, no. She had to stop this. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, but her voice came out soft and breathless.
Her sexy whisper teased Burke. He'd been dreaming about her and had opened his eyes to see her standing over him. It had taken every ounce of his will not to reach for her. He wanted to pull her down on top of him and grind his erection against her.
"We're both mature and unattached, Ally," he said, his voice soft and cajoling. He reached out to her. Slowly, as if mesmerized, she walked toward him. She placed her hand in his. When he pulled gently, she yielded and stepped closer.
"Mr. Winslow, your breakfast is ready!" A stern voice barked from the intercom on the wall.
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Ally jumped as if someone had poked her with a sharp pin. "I'll talk to you over breakfast." She ran from the room.
"Little coward," Burke said to the empty room. He smiled smugly. He'd made progress though.
Ally's heart slammed against her ribs as she hurried away. She took refuge in the bathroom attached to the guest room. Her reflection in the mirror taunted her. She studied her flaming cheeks. "You are an idiot, Ally Fletcher!" Her voice trembled. She closed her eyes, but that only intensified the pictures in her head.
"Oh, Burke," she whispered, unable to suppress the memory of the way he had looked with the tangled covers, revealing much, concealing more that she wanted to see. His eyes had mesmerized her. Did he remember the nights of passion they'd shared? Did they haunt him they way they haunted her? His husky voice teased her and dared her.
"What am I going to do?" she moaned. He had hardly been home the last few days, but instead of that helping, it merely made her hunger for a glimpse of him.
Last night, she'd stayed awake until she'd heard him come in around two this morning. Where had he been? Who had he been with? The questions tortured her. Damn it. He was driving her crazy whether he was at home or away. She had to get away from here for a while. All the more reason to brave his sly glances and confront him at breakfast. At least Deirdre would be there so she wouldn't have to be alone with him.
After a quick pep talk, Ally left the guest room and headed to the kitchen. She no longer paused in awe in the two story great room even if it was big enough to hang glide from the second floor balcony.
Now she only saw the beautiful oak paneling. At least the warmth and richness of the wood made up for the stark white the interior designer had used. She would have been scared to death to drink a cup of coffee while sitting on the huge white sofas. She was even fearful of walking too close to the wall of white draperies at the end of the room for fear she'd stain them.
When she'd arrived that first night, Burke had looked around the room as if seeing it in her eyes. "I guess it's kind of cold, isn't it?" he'd asked.
Ally had hedged, "Well, monochromatic color schemes are all the rage I understand. It's really very sophisticated." She'd hated it, but it was better than the kitchen.
"That's what the decorator told me," he had said, nodding. "She explained that the different textures of tone on tone provided visual interest." He'd wrinkled his nose. "Personally, I thought something in red or yellow would be more interesting, but Tiffany convinced me that the decorator was right."
"Ah. Tiffany." Ally's green-eyed monster had peeked out. "Maybe I could change the throw pillows. Add a few in red or yellow, if you like?"
"Sure. Do whatever you want." He'd said. Then Ally had looked around with interest. She'd lain in bed, day dreaming about what she'd do if the house were hers.
If she lived here, the kitchen would have to go. She was certain most hospitals didn't have this much stainless steel in their operating rooms. Black granite countertops gleamed coldly in the fluorescent light. She was certain they'd be suitable for surgery.
A stove big enough for the pickiest chef occupied the center of one wall. Everything was pristinely clean even though the smell of bacon and eggs and fresh-brewed coffee scented the air.
"Good morning, Mrs. Henry," she said, forcing a note of cheer into her voice.
Ally felt the same way she'd felt when she'd first been introduced to the woman, as insignificant and as pesky as a house fly. She somehow felt that Mrs. Henry would like to swat her away from her stainless steel palace but that would leave a dark stain on the blizzard-white realm. She checked to see if the woman had a fly swatter anywhere near before asking, "May I have a cup of coffee please?"
"Of course," Deirdre said in a voice that held no emotion whatsoever.
"Make that two," Burke said.
Ally jumped. "I didn't hear you come in."
Burke reached for the two cups of coffee Deirdre had poured. "Bring breakfast out to the pool, would you please, Deirdre?"
The pool and flagstone patio were the saving grace of the home. Ally could easily have spent every day sitting under the bougainvillea-covered trellis and gazing at the sparkling blue pool that curved around the back of the house.
Ally had finally got the nerve up to open the draperies each day when Deirdre finished vacuuming that part of the house just so she could see the pool from the great room. The view was simply spectacular. She could get used to seeing that tropical scene every morning.
She sank into her favorite chair facing the water. A miniature waterfall cascaded down from a pile of rocks at the end of the pool and splashed cheerfully into the crystal blue pool.
"You like this, don't you?" Burke asked taking the chair next to hers.
"I can truthfully say that I adore it. It almost makes up for the rest of the house." As soon as the words were out, Ally covered her mouth with her hand. "Oops. Sorry. I didn't mean to insult your home."
"So you don't like it. Why not?"
"I'm not into the blank canvas look," she quipped.
"I told you to change it. I meant that. I want you to be comfortable here. Change anything you don't like."
"What's the point? I won't be here that long. And the next Mrs. Winslow might not like my taste any more than I like the taste of that decorator you hired. Right?"
Burke felt his good mood slip away. "Right," he snapped and turned his attention to the housekeeper.
She pushed a tea cart over to their table and then straightened. Ally thought she looked as if she might execute a military salute.
"Mr. Winslow," Deirdre said. "I need to go over the party preparations with you today."
"I've got a full day scheduled, but I'll call you later."
Deirdre's lips thinned. "Very well." She did a sharp about face and marched back to the kitchen.
Ally grinned. "Are you sure she wasn't in the Army?"
He grinned. "She's a retired school teacher, Ally."
Ally shuddered. "Bet those kids celebrated her retirement."
Burke offered her a basket of assorted breads. "I admit she is a bit anal, but you can't fault her cooking."
Ally selected a raisin scone and reached for the butter. "Too true," she said, biting into the warm bread. She moaned her pleasure.
At the sound, Burke looked up. He'd love to make her moan like that. Deep and low in her throat. He shifted uncomfortably on the chair and adjusted his napkin strategically. Ally had the most unsettling affects on him.
Ally caught him looking at her and blushed. She gulped her coffee, thankful that it had cooled enough not to scald her tongue. Suddenly, the intimacy of the breakfast scene struck her. She and Burke were behaving like a married couple.
The squawk of the garden gate hinges intruded. Ally looked askance at Burke just as Tiffany strode into view. And the morning had been so nice until now, Ally thought snidely.
"Hello, Burke," Tiffany said, pausing to tap on the window and wave at Mrs. Henry.
"How did the meetings go?" Burke asked.
Tiffany acknowledged Ally's presence with a stiff nod. Ally nodded back.
Tiffany seated herself next to Burke and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Mrs. Henry delivered with the speed of a good little soldier. Then she began a detailed report of her Los Angeles meetings. Ally studied the woman as she talked. Tiffany wore a white linen suit. The jacket was shaped to her body, and the skirt barely hit below mid-thigh. The woman obviously thought her legs were an asset that should be showcased. Unfortunately she was right.
Next to the crisp, unwrinkled Tiffany, Ally felt sloppy in her yellow tee shirt, blue jog shorts, and sneakers. Her only consolation was that if Tiffany walked into the house, she'd be nearly invisible in the white on white. That thought brought a grin to Ally's face. When she heard the word party, her ears perked up.
"What's this about a party?" she asked. "Mrs. Henry mentioned it too."
"The party for Sakamoto," Burke said.
"I don
't know anything about this," Ally replied, a little uneasy. "When is it to be?"
"Next week when he arrives, of course," Tiffany said, speaking directly to Ally for the first time. "It's business."
"What!" She shook her head in disbelief. "When had you planned to tell me about it?"
"What's the big deal?" Burke asked. "I'm telling you now."
"How many people will be at this party?"
He shrugged. "About a hundred I think."
"A hundred! And you don't know what the big deal is?"
"It's being catered," Tiffany said, but her comment fell on deaf ears. She shrugged.
"You won't have to do anything, Ally," Burke said. "Everything has been planned to the last detail."
"We'll use the usual caterers," Tiffany interjected. "They're very capable."
"I don't believe this," Ally sputtered. To Burke, she said, "How am I supposed to throw a party by next Saturday?"
"I told you, it's being handled. Besides, just think of it as part of the job."
"I'm not getting paid enough to think of it as part of the job."
Tiffany's eyes rounded. "You're paying her for. . . ." Her voice trailed off.
Burke growled, "Well, how about I double what you're getting?" He and Ally locked eyes and neither backed down.
"Oh, just peachy. What's two times zero?" Ally asked.
"Uh, maybe I should leave?" Tiffany said.
"Look, Ally, it's no big deal. A hundred people might sound like a mob, but, believe me, there's no boisterous behavior or excitement, unfortunately. These things are deadly boring."
"Then maybe I'll duck it. I hate boring parties," she said.
"I don't think so. You're the hostess with the mostest. That's why you're here, remember? Knowing you, you'll liven things up."
"You should have just hired someone to pose as your wife," she grumbled.
"That wouldn't work. No backing out now. You're my wife, and you'll darn well act like it too."
Tiffany stood. "When I'm around you two, I feel as if I'm invisible. I'll see you at the office, Burke." She didn't bother saying goodbye to Ally before she stomped away.
