by Helen Brooks
Leaving the clothes on the bed, she walked into the en-suite and began to run a bath, using a liberal amount of hotel bath oil until the water was a mass of perfumed bubbles. Slipping off the robe, she divested herself of her bra and panties before sliding into the foam until only her head was visible. It was only then, when her limbs and body were concealed, that she began to relax in the delicious silky warmth.
After the months in hospital there was an element of bliss in being able to luxuriate in the scented bubbles without fear of one of the nurses knocking on the door and asking her if she was all right. Not that she hadn’t appreciated their kindness and concern—she had—but she had felt stifled at times.
How long she lay there she wasn’t sure, but after a while the thought that time was getting on caused a little panic, and she quickly washed her hair and climbed out of the bath. In the old days she and Zeke had often unwound after work by taking a bath together, the room lit by candlelight and a bottle of their favourite wine in hand. It had been a great start to the evening—especially as their intimate sojourns in the massive sunken bath in their en-suite had invariably led to something else. They’d often eaten late by candlelight in their bathrobes.
But that was then and this was now, and trips down memory lane were both dangerous and weakening.
Melody’s mouth twisted with pain and she pulled on her robe, jerking the belt tightly round her waist. There was no going back and it would be emotional suicide to try. She could no longer live up to Zeke’s expectations—his and all the rest of the showbiz crowd they mixed with. And she didn’t want to destroy herself attempting to do so. Oh, she didn’t doubt most people would be very polite and sympathetic to her face, and some of them would even be genuine. But she had come up through the ranks and she knew how it was, how bitchy and calculating ambitious beauties like Katie could be. She couldn’t live with the waiting. Waiting for one woman, more special or more clever at getting what she wanted than the rest, to draw Zeke in.
She wound her hair into a towel and then looked at her reflection in the mirror. Maybe that woman would never appear—perhaps Zeke would be strong against all the come-ons and remain faithful—but that was almost beside the point. It was her who would damage what they had if she stayed with him. She knew that now. Jealousy and suspicion were terrible things, and she couldn’t expect Zeke to live with them and her, because that was how it would be. She had found out a lot about herself in the past weeks, and even more since she had seen him again today, and she wasn’t proud of it. But it was reality.
Maybe if she didn’t love him so much, or had had a different upbringing, or a thicker skin… She shook her head and turned from the bereft face in the mirror. Too many maybes. The accident had thrown up a whole host of gremlins buried deep in her psyche, and the only thing in the world she was sure about right now was that she had to step out of her life and begin again somewhere far away. And she could do that. She would do it. And then perhaps she could sort out her head. Given time. Find the courage to fight the deadening apathy that dominated her outlook on the future when she looked down long years without Zeke. In fact she’d have to. End of story.
She dressed quickly, relaxing infinitesimally once she was covered up. She didn’t think Zeke would barge into the bedroom unannounced, in view of all that had been said, but…
She dried her hair into a sleek shining curtain either side of her face before applying her make-up. She kept it simple—just a touch of eyeshadow and mascara to enhance her green eyes and a warm plum-coloured lipstick for her lips. Nevertheless, the effect was almost startling after not wearing make-up for so long. Titivating had been the last thing on her mind in hospital, but now she looked at herself in the bedroom mirror and decided she would do the same every day.
Part of her rehabilitation, she thought with grim humour, remembering the words of the consultant when she had last seen him. He had been so kind, Mr Price. Grey-haired and fatherly, but a man who called a spade a spade, albeit with compassion and gentleness. ‘I’ve mended your body, Melody, but it’s up to you to do the same with your spirit. I know this has knocked you for six, but there’s the rest of your life to live now—which is more than some of my patients can look forward to. I don’t understand everything you’re feeling, but when you are ready I’d like you to see a colleague of mine who can talk things through with you as many times as you need.’
She’d looked down at the name and telephone number he had given her. Dr Greg Richardson. Swallowing hard, she had whispered, ‘Is he a psychiatrist?’ already knowing the answer. They all thought she was losing it, that she’d cracked.
Mr Price’s voice had been soft when he’d answered. ‘He is someone who works with people who need a different kind of healing to the one I can give. Look at it like that. He’s a good man. More than that, he’s a friend of mine and I know you would benefit from seeing him. Don’t dismiss it out of hand, Melody. And…’ The good doctor had paused, waiting until she had met his steady gaze before he’d continued, ‘Don’t make any life-changing decisions in the next little while. Give yourself time. It might be a cliché, but time is a great healer.’
‘You’re talking about Zeke,’ she’d said woodenly.
This time the pause had been longer. ‘Partly, yes.’
Mr Price had meant well. Turning away from the mirror, Melody took a deep breath. And she knew he hadn’t agreed with her decision to end her marriage. Emotion flooded in, overwhelming her. But he didn’t understand. How could he? He was a doctor first and foremost. He didn’t have a clue about the entertainment industry other than what he experienced when he watched TV or went to the cinema or theatre. Showbiz was another world, a world within the everyday world, and since she had entered it after leaving dance school she had relished every second. It had been hard, exacting, unforgiving, sometimes unfair and often capricious, but it had enabled her to do what she loved most—dance. Or what she had loved most until she had met Zeke. From that point he’d become the centre of her world.
She had had it all. She bit her bottom lip with small white teeth, her eyes cloudy. And the gods didn’t like mere mortals who tasted paradise on earth. How many times had she thought it was all too good to last? Well, she had been right. It hadn’t lasted.
Melody stared blindly across the room, straightening her shoulders as she took several deep calming breaths. And now she had to adapt to the cards she’d been dealt. It was a simple as that. Everything was changed, but there were millions of other people much worse off than she was. She could not, she would not give in to the numb, grey, terrifying depression that kept trying to draw her into a mindless vacuum. There was life after dancing. There was life after Zeke.
‘Melody?’
The knock at her bedroom door made her jump out of her skin as she came out of the maelstrom of her thoughts. Her hand at her chest, she steadied herself. Then she walked to the door and opened it, a cool smile stitched in place. ‘I’m ready.’
He looked fabulous. Dinner suit, hair slicked back, magnetism increased tenfold. ‘Hi,’ he said softly. ‘Cocktails in the sitting room? They’re all ready.’
‘Lovely.’ Her voice was a little breathless but she hoped he wouldn’t notice. She needed to project coolness, if anything.
‘You look…’ He smiled and the warmth in his eyes increased her heartbeat to a gallop. ‘Good enough to eat,’ he finished huskily. ‘But then you always do.’
‘Thank you.’ Even to her own ears her voice sounded ridiculously prim. ‘The clothes are very nice.’
‘But I forgot to give you this when I gave you the other things earlier.’ He handed her a package, beautifully wrapped like the previous ones. He seemed totally at ease and not at all bothered by her lack of enthusiasm at the gift.
‘What is it?’ Melody asked flatly, refusing to acknowledge to herself how wildly attractive he was.
He took her arm, leading her through into the sitting room before he said quietly, ‘Open it and see.’
‘I—I don’t want it. I mean, you’ve given me enough. I can’t accept anything else. Not—not when I haven’t got you—’
‘Open it.’ He interrupted her stumbling words coolly, and when she still made no attempt to obey him he casually pushed her down on one of the sofas and sat beside her, undoing the ribbons on the large box. ‘It won’t bite,’ he added.
As he lifted the lid, Melody gazed down at the silver boots the box contained. The soft leather was worked with tiny crystals in a curling design that wound from toe to heel in a thin line on the outer side of each boot, and she would have known immediately—even if she hadn’t seen the name on the box—that they’d cost an arm and a leg. She didn’t remove the boots from their bed of tissue paper, raising her eyes to Zeke before she spoke. ‘I can’t accept these. I mean it, Zeke. I don’t want anything else.’
He sat back a little, folding his arms over his chest as he surveyed her with an air of deceptive meekness. ‘Why not?’
‘I shouldn’t have taken the clothes,’ she said by way of answer, feeling churlish but knowing she had to make him see.
‘But you did,’ he pointed out gently, ‘and these are part of that gift.’ His eyes lowered to the black leather boots she was wearing, which were definitely more serviceable than anything else and couldn’t compare to the exotic creations in the box.
Melody’s mouth tightened as her chin rose. She knew what he was thinking, but he either took her out in her old boots or not at all. ‘I’m sorry, Zeke. They’re beautiful, but no.’
The mockery in the black eyes showed he was fully aware of what she was thinking. ‘No problem,’ he said lazily. ‘If you change your mind before we leave they’re here.’
‘I won’t.’ She stood up abruptly. Sitting so close, she could smell the expensive sensual aftershave he favoured, and it was playing havoc with her thought process.
Zeke rose too, walking across to where a tray holding two glasses of her favourite cocktail—sapphire martini—was waiting. He handed her one of the frosted martini glasses full of the chilled gin and blue liqueur. ‘No toasts tonight, but I hope you enjoy the evening,’ he said softly. ‘We’re eating after the theatre, if that’s okay? I thought it would give us time to work up an appetite after all that cake.’
Melody took a sip of the cocktail. The very blue, very sweet liqueur tasted slightly of lavender, contrasting wonderfully with the spicy gin, and giving her the kick she needed to be able to smile and say fairly normally, ‘That’s fine. I’m not hungry.’
‘We’ll have to work on getting that appetite of yours back. I was always amazed at how much you could eat.’
Melody stared at him. ‘I was a dancer,’ she said flatly. ‘I burnt off the calories. Everything is different now.’
‘Not everything.’ He leant closer.
With her heart thudding, Melody waited for his kiss. As his lips closed over hers they tasted of the bittersweet cocktail and a warm thrill of pleasure quivered down her spine. When Zeke exerted his charm it was as potent as mulled wine, heady and intoxicating. He was irresistible and he knew it.
He broke the kiss for just a moment, to place their glasses on the coffee table, and then took her in his arms again, holding her lightly against him as his mouth teased at hers. She found herself swept into the world of sensuous delight Zeke evoked so easily, and as she responded to him his arms tightened around her and his lips demanded more intimacy. She abandoned all reserve—for a crazy moment she couldn’t do anything else, didn’t want to do anything else. This was Zeke and she adored him; for a few blissful seconds that was all that mattered.
It was Zeke who finished the embrace by gently withdrawing, although he still continued to hold her, his eyes as black as night as he stared down at her flushed face.
Melody felt light-headed and slightly dazed, her eyes cloudy with desire as she struggled to compose herself. Part of her was shocked and embarrassed at how easily Zeke could break through her defences; another part of her had known this would happen. Zeke was a very physical man; he’d always wanted to touch and hold and kiss her and she had wanted it too.
‘You and I haven’t changed,’ Zeke said huskily. ‘Surely you understand that now? Nothing could come between what we have. We’re meant to be together. You must believe that.’
It would have been so easy to melt into him again and just agree, to let her need of him—his strength, his security, his overpowering maleness—take control. Over the past months she had been fighting constantly—fighting to get better, to control the negative thoughts that hit at all times of the night and day, to accept the fact of a future without Zeke.
Easy, but not right. That was the hard truth.
Melody stepped away from the warm circle of his arms. She looked at him and swallowed, hating what she had to say but knowing it must be said. ‘It’s over, Zeke,’ she said, very quietly but with a finality he couldn’t fail to recognise. ‘I have accepted that and you have to. If you love me, you’ll let me go. I can’t be in your world any more. It might sound dramatic, but I know how much I can stand and that would be the final straw. It would destroy me here, inside. I have to make a new life for myself and find out who I am now.’
‘You’re my wife,’ he said thickly.
If she hadn’t been feeling so wretched Melody could have smiled. That was so Zeke. Black and white. He had never seen shades of grey. Not trusting herself to speak, she shook her head slowly, her eyes on his dark face.
‘It’s Christmas Eve.’ He leant forward and kissed her again—a hard, confident kiss, strong and sweet. ‘And at this moment in time you are my wife and we are going out to enjoy ourselves. We’re not thinking beyond that. No more about the future, not even tomorrow. Tonight we’re living in the moment, one minute at a time, and that’s all that matters. Okay?’
The kiss had left her breathless and shaken, but with an effort she forced a smile. Their last night together. It was going to be bittersweet, but why couldn’t it be a night to remember? A step out of time? Zeke knew how she felt, she’d made it crystal-clear, so it wasn’t as if she was masquerading under false pretences. And it would be something to remember in the lonely months and years ahead.
He had retrieved their glasses and now she drank deeply of the cocktail, knowing she’d never be able to drink it again because it would be forever linked with this last night and the pain which was piercing her through.
‘There’s canapés and champagne waiting in our box at the theatre, so if you’re ready?’ Zeke said softly as she drained her glass. He took her arm, his touch firm but gentle.
Melody took a deep breath. Her first real venture into the outside world since the accident and she was certainly plunging into the deep end, she thought wryly. There was bound to be people they knew at the theatre—people who were aware of her injuries and who would be watching her with scalpel-sharp eyes. Hopefully once they were in their box there would be a degree of privacy, but until then… She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. ‘Ready.’
It was a lie. She would never be ready. And she was scared, so scared, but she could do this. It was just one night after all.
Zeke pulled her coat round her shoulders, his touch sending tiny bolts of electricity down her nerve endings. It was always the same. Even when he inadvertently touched her it registered every time.
Just before they left the room he turned her round to face him, slowly raising her left hand with her wedding and engagement rings to his lips. He kissed her wrist first, his mouth warm against the silky flesh where her pulse beat, and then turned her hand over and kissed the rings, his lips caressing and gentle. ‘You’ve nothing to fear from me,’ he said very quietly. ‘I promise you that. I will never hurt you.’
She made a small ineffectual sound in her throat, pulling her hand away as she stepped back a pace.
‘So defensive.’ The words were almost a sigh, and for a moment she thought she detected sudden pain in his dark eyes before he blinked and it cleared.
<
br /> ‘I thought we were leaving?’ She spoke flatly, carefully keeping her facial expression calm. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down. Not for a moment.
‘We are.’ But he didn’t move.
Melody stared at him warily, swallowing against the tightness in her throat. There had always been something uncivilised about Zeke, and tonight it was in every movement and expression—a sensuousness that was almost animal-like in its instinctive earthiness and male power.
And then he smiled, opening the door. ‘Let’s go.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
IT had stopped snowing when they left the hot-house comfort of the hotel, stepping into a frozen winter wonderland that had transformed the city streets into something magical.
The gritters had been hard at work keeping the main roads serviceable, and the hotel staff had had the foresight to clear a path from the hotel door to the main thoroughfare. Nevertheless, Melody was glad of Zeke’s firm hand at her elbow as they hailed a taxi.
The snow hadn’t seemed to deter the last-minute shoppers making use of some of the big stores which were still open. The white pavements were alive with folk heaped with bags and parcels, and an unusual air of gaiety pervaded the scene. It was as though a white Christmas had evoked the excitement of a child in even the most hardened city-dwellers, and for a little while the wonder of the festive season had swept away everyday problems and difficulties. Everyone seemed happy.
Zeke settled her close to him in the taxi, his arm round her shoulders, and she didn’t pull away although his touch made her as tense as a coiled spring. It was strange being out in the hustle and bustle of life again after her long stint in the hospital, but it wasn’t that which tightened her nerves, although he must have thought so because he murmured, ‘Relax. We’re doing this together, okay? I’m here. I’ve got you. This is going to be a pleasant evening, that’s all.’
