'You were so long, I was beginning to think you'd bought the store!' grinned Dane as she found him in the Wedgwood section.
'Not quite.' Leslie had no intention of telling him why she had been delayed. 'Found something you like?'
'Yes—two services, both Rosenthal.'
"Let's go take a look, then.' 'Don't you want to browse around here first and see if there's anything else you prefer?'
'I trust your taste implicitly, darling. Let's pay and go-'
'A woman who wants to walk out of Harrods?' Dane said with mock incredulity. 'You must be the eighth wonder of the world!'
'Just a blushing bride who prefers to be alone with her husband,' Leslie cooed, clinging to his arm and praying she could get him out of the store before he bumped into Charlene.
Pulling him across to the Rosenthal section, she waited edgily as he debated which of the two services he wanted, and then discussed shipping arrangements. The talk seemed interminable and her nerve finally snapped.
'I must get some fresh air,' she gasped. 'I feel quite faint.'
With a hurried promise to call the salesman and finalise the remaining details, Dane propelled Leslie to the nearest lift, and once outside, hailed a cab to take them to the Mirabelle where he had booked a table.
'That's what comes from not having breakfast,' he reproved, slamming the cab door.
'I'll be fat as a house if I eat three meals a day,' Leslie protested. 'I think it's the sleepless nights that are exhausting me!'
'Complaining already?'
'Merely reminding you there are afternoons too!'
'What a great idea. Let's skip lunch and '
'No!' she laughed. 'I'm faint from hunger, remember?'
'Then eat up quickly,' he said, and teasingly repeated the instruction some half-hour later as she cut into her filet de fcoew/Lucullus, a house speciality.
'Are you always so impatient, Mr Jordan?' she smiled.
'Only when there's something I particularly want. And I always want you.''
'Shall I skip the sweet and coffee?'
'Would you be cross if I said yes?'
'I'd be cross if you didn't!'
His mouth moved sensuously, and beneath the table his hand lightly skimmed the top of her leg. 'That's what I love about you, Leslie. You want me as much as I want you, and you've no false modesty about showing it.*
His words made her hate herself for wanting a man she knew she should despise. Yet when she was in his arms she couldn't control her passion for him.
Not bothering with coffee, they returned to Clar- idges, and as the door of their suite closed behind them, he started to peel off her clothes. Like two eager children they clung together, exploring each other, neither of them able to hold back a moment longer. Then Dane slid inside her, plunging deep, ever deeper, filing her with his velvet hardness.
'Dearest angel heart,' he whispered against her throat, and gently began rotating his hips in a rhythm that became hers as she moved with him, and met him thrust for thrust, until their passion spiralled out of control as they came together in a wonderful, shuddering climax.
His body lay motionless on hers, his skin damp from exertion, and she pulled up the fine cotton sheet to cover him.
'Taking care of me, eh?' he murmured.
'I always take care of my investments!'
Laughter rumbled his chest, and raising his head he looked down at her with a teasing smile.
'I'm glad we came back to the hotel.'
'Me too.' Leslie moved sinuously beneath him and his mouth curved with humour.
'Not yet, Mrs Joran,' he rolled off her. 'Superman I'm not!'
'You give a passable imitation!'
'Only because you're irresistible! Making love to you is a whole new experience for me.'
'Maybe what you feel for me is a new experience too?'
'Could be,' he mused. 'Stranger things have been known than husbands falling in love with their wives!'
It was impossible to tell if he meant it, or was merely trying to please her. But like his tender words during their lovemaking, she suspected it was little more than solace to her ego.
'When you've reached a conclusion, tell me.' She reached for her robe and slipped it on.
'Now you're angry.' Dane caught her arm and brought her down on the bed again.
'No, I'm not.' She remembered the part she was playing. 'It's just that I don't like being reminded of our one-sided relationship. This past week has been so perfect, I've tried to forget you only feel passion for me.'
Surprisingly, she meant what she said, and was deeply disturbed by it. It was dangerous to let herself soften towards him, though she realised this was the inevitable outcome of their lovemaking. After all, how could she think in terms of cold-blooded revenge after their shared intimacy? Which brought her to the sobering conclusion that the sooner she figured out how to get their marriage on to a platonic basis, the better.
'Don't knock the fact that we've a great sex life,' Dane said. 'That's the first step to a successful marriage. And believe me, ours can work as well as nny other—even better perhaps, because we have to tread more warily with each other.'
'You may be right,' she answered, standing up again. 'But the real test won't start till we get back home.'
Home. At least she would be spared the final hypocrisy of sharing his new house with him, for it was still far from finished—and until it was, they'd be living in his apartment, the bachelor pad he had shared with countless other women, and where one more would make little if any imprint.
CHAPTER TEN
Their honeymoon slipped by all too quickly. Milan, apart from a visit to the Cathedral and La Scala, was little more than a shopping expedition, and neither of them was sorry to move on to Venice.
Despite the mid-November rain, it was an entrancing city, with a crystalline beauty all its own. Their hotel, the Gritti Palace on the Grand Canal, was only a short walk from the Piazza San Marco, surely the loveliest square in the world. Hand in hand they explored the cobbled streets and alleyways that led off it, and not even the mist and cold could keep them from a gondola ride on one of the waterways that crisscrossed the city like a cat's cradle.
Yet for all its haunting beauty, Leslie was left with an impression of sadness and decay; a city living on its past glory.
Paris, by contrast, was a city of today—despite its historical background—and it took her a while to adjust to the pace, so hard and fast after the slow, relaxing rhythm of Venice.
Her French was passable, but Dane's, surprisingly, was fluent, and when she commented on it, his reply was typical.
‘What did you expect? It's the language of love, isn't it?'
Later, he told her he had worked there for a year as a travel courier before entering law school. He had returned frequently, and knew it like the back of his hand; which meant Leslie was shown a Paris far removed from the one she had visited a few years earlier. As in London, Dane had many friends here, n nd she liked them all. Well travelled, well heeled and sophisticated, they made it flatteringly plain that if he was good enough for Dane, she was good enough for them.
'Sorry to be leaving?' he asked, as they dined at Lasserre on their last night.
'Naturally. But all dreams come to an end—and I normally wake up to reality the moment I turn on the washing-machine!'
'My staff will take care of that in future,' he assured her. 'Just you concentrate on turning me on!'
Turning myself off, more like it, Leslie thought, as always far too aware of his magnetism. Another month alone with this man and she could end up putty in his hands; adoring him as all his girl-friends did!
'Why the frown?' he questioned.
'I was wondering how we'll behave towards each other once we're home and under pressure,' she lied.
'Same as we behave now. And we'll stand up OK to pressure too. Having someone to share your problems with, with whom you can relate and be honest, will do us both a helluva lot of good.'
>
'You sound as if you've given it quite a bit of thought.'
'I have. You've made me rethink a lot of things, my darling.'
He did not elaborate, and Leslie, wife of four weeks, knew him well enough not to probe.
Returning to Los Angeles, they were met at the airport by Dane's chauffeur, who drove them directly to the penthouse.
'Now isn't the time to carry you over the threshold,' Dane whispered in her ear as they stepped into the private elevator that led straight into the elegant entrance hall. 'I'll save that pleasure for our new home.'
'Well be here at least another three months,' she warned.
That's what comes of having a lousy architect!'
Laughing, she preceded him into the living-room, where the eclectic decor reflected her own taste.
Against a background of splendid proportions, the velvet-covered sofas, sycamore tables and modern pictures and sculptures took on a composition of elegant serenity. Sunshine tones suffused the whole apartment, and were reflected in lacquered walls of palest amber, floors of gold-veined white marble, and the fruit-drop colours of upholstery and curtains.
The living-room, dining-room and study were interlinked, and gave vistas of the city through french windows that led on to a flower-banked terrace. The main bedroom suite, with its massive bed, included a dressing-room and two bathrooms—on the off-chance that His and Hers weren't on speaking terms!
Leslie had dined in the apartment frequently when they were engaged, and did not feel a stranger here. Nor was she a stranger to the housekeeper and her husband, a Mexican couple who ran Dane's home and had gone out of their way to show how pleased they were that 'Mr D' had made such a sensible choice of wife.
'How kind of you, Conchita,' Leslie said gratefully, returning to the bedroom after a leisurely pre-dinner bath to find all her clothes neatly put away in the cupboards. 'But don't spoil me too much or you'll make me lazy.'
'I no theenk that happen,' the raven-haired woman said with a flash of white teeth. 'You very har' working lady and Pedro and I enjoy spoil you. If you unhappy with anything, and wan' done different, please no worry tell us.'
Over dinner, Leslie told Dane how welcoming Conchita had been, and he gave her a look of lazy amusement.
'She was always scared I'd settle on some starlet who'd lie in bed all day giving her orders! But with you she knows she has a mistress who'll leave her in charge!' He took a spoonful of gazpacho. 'We'll need more staff when we move house, though. It might be an idea to start looking around.'
'Let's wait till we're actually in,' Leslie suggested. 'Then Conchita will have a better idea of how many we need.'
'Good thinking. I'm glad you're not just a beautiful face!' He leered at her. 'By the way, I'm opening an account for you at my bank. I'd like you to come with me tomorrow to sign the necessary papers.'
'I don't need an account,' she said quickly. 'I have my own money.'
'I know. But I'll get a kick out of knowing you're spending mine. It'll do my libido good to see you in a black lace bra and frontless panties that I know I've paid for!'
Leslie fluttered her lashes at him, resisting the urge to box his ears. Frontless panties indeed! An iron chastity belt if she had her way. But not yet. First things first. And the first was to be a doting wife for a few months. But after that… She hugged the thought to herself.
'I'll get you charge accounts at the top stores too,' Dane went on. 'Leave me a list of where you like to shop and my secretary will see to it.'
'Aren't you afraid I'll be too extravagant?' Leslie asked.
'Not in the least. You're so careful with the costs of our new home, it's my least worry.'
It will be your greatest before I've finished with you, she vowed, and itched to put her plans into action.
Just then Pedro came in with a stuffed crown roast of lamb, and they waited silently while he served them.
'I think I'll turn in early and take a sleeping-pill,' Leslie went on when they were alone again. 'I'll need a clear head in the morning, when I tackle four weeks' backlog!'
'I doubt I can get to sleep so early,' Dane grunted. 'I'm tired, but restless.'
'Take a sleeping-pill.'
'Maybe I will.' He sipped his wine. 'Jet-lag is the one thing that makes me dislike air travel.'
'Well, we aren't likely to be going on any long journeys for a while, are we?'
'Not unless you count Philadelphia.' He caught her puzzled look. 'We'll be spending Christmas there with my family.'
'I wish you'd told me before,' Leslie said. 'Marybeth and Jack asked us to stay with them in San Francisco, and I accepted.'
'Seems we'll offend someone whatever we do,' Dane sighed. 'It might be more diplomatic if we spend it on our own.'
It was not a statement with which Leslie could argue.
'What say we go to Hawaii?' he went on. 'You've never been there, and the Mauna Lani Bay Hotel is the best in the Pacific.'
'Sounds fabulous,' she said.
In all honesty she hadn't relished being with her cousins over Christmas, for by then—if things panned out as she hoped—she would be starting to make Dane's life a misery, and her marriage would have a sour edge to it that was bound to provoke questions from Marybeth.
'Will we get a booking with Christmas only a month away?' she went on.
'I'll pull a few strings,' he said confidently. 'The manager's a friend of a friend.'
There were no problems with their families or the resort, where Dane managed to secure a suite for a week, though Leslie, overhearing the conversation, knew the booking was very much in the nature of a favour.
'We've dozens of invitations to New Year parties,' he stated, settling beside her on the settee. 'Would you like to go through them and decide which you'd like to accept?'
'They're your friends, so it's best if you decide,' Leslie said docilely.
'OK,' he agreed, looking pleased. 'But in future, our social arrangements are your responsibility. For the next twenty-five years, though, I prefer having you to myself!' He drew her close. 'Let's go to bed, darling, I haven't made love to you in over a day!'
'If you hire a private jet next time we go on a long journey, you can overcome that problem!' she smiled.
Leaving Dane to switch off the lights, she went into the bedroom. She hadn't yet taken off her dress when he came up behind her and unzipped it, pulling her down on the bed and taking her with a swift fierceness that left her gasping. But as always he was tender afterwards, cradling her close and murmuring endearments. Gradually she felt his arousal again, and as he went to slide her beneath him, she wriggled free.
'We've got to take our sleeping-pills,' she reminded him.
'Must we?' he said huskily. 'Trouble is they'll make us sleep through the night, and it seems such a waste!'
'There's always the morning,' she murmured softly. 'You don't have far to go to the office.'
'True.' He gave a contented sigh and snuggled into the pillows.
'I'll get your pill,' Leslie said, touching her hand to his cheek as she slipped out of bed.
In the bathroom she took a tablet from the bottle, and filled a glass with water.
'Here you are, sweetheart,' she said, coming back with it.
'Had yours?' he asked as he swallowed it.
'I took it in the bathroom,' she lied. Plan one was about to be set in motion.
Within minutes, Dane's even breathing told her he was asleep. But Leslie waited an hour before attempting to wake him. She had read somewhere that drugged sleep was the deepest sleep of all, and difficult to return to once broken.
'Darling,' she called, digging him in the ribs. He stayed dead to the world, and she nudged him again, harder this time.
'Wha—whasa matter?' His lids lifted a slit.
'You're snoring,' she said plaintively, 'and you woke me up.'
'Sorry, dar…' He turned on to his back.
A few seconds later, what she had read went out of the window, for he was ou
t for the count again! Impatiently she glared at the luminous dial of the bedside clock, then after the longest half-hour she could recollect spending, she shook him hard again.
He jack-knifed into a sitting position and looked at her dazedly.
'You're still snoring,' she said in a small voice.
'Forgive me,' he mumbled, his mind clearly fuzzy. 'Maybe if I sleep on my side…'
Leslie watched as he made himself comfortable, only the top of his gleaming black head visible showing above the terracotta silk sheets. This time she let an hour tick away.
Then: 'Dane! Wake upV Her only answer was a faint grunt and she prodded his shoulder viciously. 'Dane, you're snoring like a pneumatic drill and I can't get to sleep!'
With a deep sigh, he turned on to his other side. Once more silence reigned, and she knew he was in the land of Nod. How lucky men were to fall asleep so easily. Not that Dane's luck was going to last. She would give him another half-hour and start again. She yawned, wishing there was a way of exhausting him without exhausting herself! Still, she had started this and intended finishing it.
The minutes ticked by, slow as a lame tortoise. But at last the little hand reached three and the large one twelve, and she drew a deep breath and bellowed, 'Dane?
Instantly he jerked awake. 'What is it? You ill?'
'I've got a splitting headache. Your snoring's kept me awake all night.'
Dazedly he shifted round to face her. 'I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's the first time I've been told I snore.'
'Wives can afford to be more truthful than girlfriends!'
'But we've been sleeping together for a month!'
'Not in L.A.,' she said quickly. 'Maybe it's something to do with the smog.' 'Then there isn't much we can do about it. We can't move to another city, so you'll have to grin and bear it.'
'I can't,' she complained. 'IH be a nervous wreck in a week. I'm sure I read recently of some new kind of operation they do.'
'Operation?' Dane was fully alert now, and he switched on the bedside lamp. 'No one's going to mess around with my nose!' He touched it, as if to reassure himself it was still there. 'It may not be perfect, but it's been a good friend for thirty-five years!'
Roberta Leigh - Too Bad to be True Page 10
