'Another man?' Dane questioned. 'Don't you mean any man?'
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'It means it's eight weeks since we made love,' he snapped. 'You may not mind living like a nun, but I sure as hell hate living like a monk!'
So that was it! It was all Leslie could do not to laugh. 'It won't be for much longer, darling.' she soothed. 'The doctor thinks I'll be fine in a couple of weeks.' Deliberately she held out hope without making any firm promise. After all, how could she when she didn't know what her next move was going to be?
'Forgive me, sweetheart.' Shamefacedly Dane removed his hand from her arm. 'You can't help not being well, and I'm a swine for forgetting it. It's just that… well, you looked so beautiful tonight, I guess my frustration got the better of me.'
'I'm frustrated too,' she said huskily, wishing with all her heart that she wasn't. 'These past two months have seemed like an eternity.'
With an inarticulate murmur, Dane drew her close and wrapped his arms around her. 'I'm sorry for what I said about you and Hal. I trust you implicitly, sweetheart, and I always will.' He nuzzled her hair. 'You're the most honest woman I know.'
Guilt swamped her, and it took every ounce of her willpower not to end this whole subterfuge. Yet the memory of her beloved stepfather couldn't be banished, and her resolve hardened. Keeping her head on Dane's chest, for in that way she could avoid his eyes, which made it easier to lie to him, she said, 'You've been the most patient man, darling. You've never made me feel I've neglected you or…'
'Hey,' he cut in, 'you haven't neglected me. It's not your fault you haven't been well.'
'I know. But you've been so understanding.'
'The perfect husband, in fact,' he said drily. 'Now watch me prove it.' He tilted her face up to his, and kissed her softly on the mouth. 'Off to bed with you— before I forget the paragon I'm supposed to be!'
Leslie was still mulling over his words as dawn streaked the sky—she had never had so many sleepless nights in her life! Tonight had shown her that Dane's patience was wearing thin, and she wouldn't be one whit surprised if he suggested she consult another doctor. Worse still, he might insist on coming with her!
The thought of resuming their sexual life scared her, for it would lessen the control she was holding over her emotions, and once her control went, heaven knew where those emotions would lead her.
Only one solution remained: to end her marriage as quickly as possible. But what grounds could she give? She could hardly cite cruelty when Dane had been the kindest of men with her.
One idea after another surfaced in her mind, only to be discarded as impractical, too drastic, or plain heartless. Yet why should she worry about being heartless when it was Dane's cruelty to Robert that had prompted her to marry him in the first place? Was she going soft on him, or had the story she heard from Hal shown him to be more a traumatised man than an ogre?
Sighing heavily, she punched her pillow and lay back on it. She needed anger as an impetus to carry on with her scheme, yet at this moment she felt only compassion for Dane, a compassion that might grow into something far more disturbing if she stayed with him much longer.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Leslie realised how much her feelings for Dane were changing as, later that morning, she watched him tuck into a hearty breakfast, after his early morning jog.
Today he seemed to have pushed himself extra hard—probably to rid himself of sexual frustration, she thought wryly—for though he had showered and changed from track-suit to light grey flannel, his cheeks were still flushed from exercise. He exuded health and vitality, and beside him she felt lifeless.
Ever observant, he commented on it as she sat down—though he couched it diplomatically.
'You look as if you've had a bad night, darling.'
'Just a headache,' she lied.
'Why not stay a few extra days with your cousins?'
'I've a site inspection first thing Monday, so I have to come back Sunday night.'
'Can't you switch it?' Warm brown eyes met aquamarine ones across the table. 'The break will do you good.'
'You're right. I'll come back Tuesday.' On an impulse, Leslie gave in. A few days away from Dane might help her get back her perspective. Certainly she couldn't carry on vacillating like this.
'I'm only sorry I can't join you,' he went on. 'But I'll be tied up all weekend with a client, and I can't put him off.'
'A himV Leslie didn't hide her surpise. 'That's a turn-up for the books!'
'I thought you'd say that! Truth to tell, divorce is beginning to bore me—which is why I went to see Dick Halsey a while back.' Dane referred to the District Attorney. 'I told him I was thinking of switching to criminal law, and he asked me to defend a friend of his, who's up on a corruption charge.' He replaced his napkin in its ivory holder. 'Remember our conversation on the way to Caldwell's party, soon after we got engaged?'
Leslie cast her mind back. 'When you said you'd changed your mind about a lot of things, but wouldn't be more specific?'
'So you do remember?' he chuckled. 'Well, now you know what I was referring to. Initially, I'd thought of changing course to please you, but then I found myself liking the idea more and more.'
So her criticism had sunk in!
'Does this mean you're giving up divorce work entirely?' she asked.
He rose and came round the table to her, tilting her face up to his. 'Sorry sweetheart, but no. It just means I'm widening my horizons.' He bent and pressed his mouth to the velvety skin of her throat. 'I'll call you at La Costa tonight. Miss me.'
The request had been unnecessary, for during the weekend Leslie felt so close to him it was impossible to regain her perspective of him.
'If you don't stop staring hopefully at the door every time a man comes through it, I'll scream!' Marybeth pronounced on the Saturday evening, over pre-dinner drinks.
Leslie sighed. 'It's silly of me, I know, but I… Well, I thought Dane might surprise me by coming down.'
'But you said he was tied up with a client,' stated
Jack, ever practical. 'You're acting like a teenager with a crush, not an old married lady!'
'That's because she's a married lady with a crush!' Marybeth laughed, giving Leslie's arm an affectionate pat. 'Your face melts whenever you mention that husband of yours. I've never seen anyone so in love. I'm really happy for you, darling.'
The blood drained from Leslie's head as she realised Marybeth had said it all! Had voiced the thought she herself had refused to let surface because of her obsession with revenge.
She loved Dane!
She had probably loved him from the very beginning. But, embalmed in her bitterness, she had seen his ability to arouse her as a purely sexual response, rather than an emotionally caring one. And care for him she did, with every fibre of her being.
All at once so many other things she hadn't been able to understand fell into place: her changeable moods with him, her reluctance to look for a reason to divorce him. Oh God! How blind she had been not to see what he meant to her.
As her newly recognised emotions welled up, she experienced such a rush of joy she was alight with it, so alight that she could see things clearly for the first time in a year. Dane wasn't to blame for her stepfather's stroke. Robert had brought it on by his own stupidity in not recognising Charlene for what she was! Nothing could take away her love for the man who had helped bring her up, but she could finally accept that he had been the victim of his own folly.
With this acknowledgement came a deep sense of relief—and an urgency to confess everything to Dane. She knew he might not forgive her deception, and could well despise her for trapping him into marriage.
But it was a risk she had to take, for she could not contemplate a future with him based on lies.
'I must leave right away,' she blurted out, uncaring what her cousins thought of her sudden departure.
'Leave for where?' asked Jack, bewildered.
'Los Angeles.'
/> 'But you promised to spend the week with us,' Marybeth reproached.
'I know, but I've just discovered something wonderful and I have to tell Dane. It's all your doing, Marybeth!'
'Mine?'
'Yes, you! You've made me realise I'm crazily, wildly, madly in love with my husband! And I can't wait to tell him.'
'You're not making sense,' Jack said blankly.
'Yes, I am,' Leslie bubbled, jumping to her feet, her excited glance encompassing them both. 'Bear with me, will you, darlings? I'll tell you the whole story as soon as I can. But I have to see Dane first.'
Within half an hour she was packed and on her way home, her foot hard down on the accelerator. Normally a careful driver, she ignored the speed limit and watched the needle touch seventy, only her fear of a blow-out preventing her going even faster.
It was almost midnight when she turned into the basement parking below the penthouse. As she did, her headlights beamed on the elevator doors slowly opening, and, surprised, she saw the tall broad- shouldered figure of her husband step out.
But he was not alone. A strikingly pretty brunette emerged with him, and with anguished horror Leslie saw the girl smile into his face, and Dane bend and gently stroke her cheek.
Heart racing like a piston, yet brain ice-cold, Leslie swerved into the furthest parking bay, praying he hadn't seen her. Yet why should he when his eyes were riveted on his companion?
There was no doubting the tenderness between them, and Leslie felt as if her breath was being squeezed from her chest by a vice of pain. She might have found the agony easier to bear if she could make herself believe this was nothing other than a chance pick-up, but the look on Dane's face, the tender movements of his hands on the girl's cheek and hair, smacked of friendship renewed—or worse still, of a friendship that had never been severed.
Recalling his recent trip to New York, and his occasional nights away from home, ostensibly on business, Leslie writhed at her naivety. She had believed that despite their not going to bed together, he had remained faithful to her, had even thought he was falling in love with her!
The realisation that she had been fooling herself was almost more than she could bear, and long after Dane's Porsche had roared away into the night, she went on staring blindly through the windscreen at the brick wall facing her. Jealousy, anger, hurt, melded into deep sadness as she visualised him in the other girl's arms: kissing her, holding her, touching her intimately.
Her sadness deepened as she mourned for a love so recently found and so suddenly lost. Whose fault it was was unimportant. All she knew was that she could not live with a man who was incapable of commitment to one woman.
When she finally managed to pull herself together, she went up to the penthouse and packed her clothes, leaving behind everything Dane had given her. Then she carried the cases down to her car and locked them in her boot.
She wanted to rush away that instant, never to see or speak to Dane again, but pride wouldn't let her, and she returned to the penthouse, freshened her make-up and went into the living-room.
Barely had she settled on the settee when she heard Dane's steps on the marble-floored hall. Drawing on all her inner strength, Leslie forced herself to stay where she was, her features carefully composed as he came in.
His astonishment at seeing her on one of the long, velvet couches would have been ludicrous had she not known that guilt, rather than pleasure, lay behind it, and it was all she could do not to hurl accusations at him like a harridan. But she could hurt him more by toying with him for a while, as he so often did with his victims in court.
'Darling!' He came striding across to her. 'Why are you home? Nothing wrong, I hope?'
'Only that I missed you too much to stay away!' She managed a starry-eyed look. 'Did you miss meT
'Goes without saying.' He reached out to pull her up, but she retreated further into the cushions and glanced at her watch.
'Quite a session you had with your client,' she murmured. 'It's almost two o'clock.'
Dane looked momentarily discomfited. 'We didn't finish in the office till around ten, and then I took him to Spago's for dinner.' He named a restaurant frequented by the movie colony. 'You know what a lively place it is, and I thought it might take his mind off his problems.'
'I thought Spago's was closed on Sundays?' she questioned innocently.
Dane swallowed hard, visibly shaken by his gaffe. 'So it is. I meant The Carnival.'
'They don't sound a bit alike,' she chided. 'How come you made such a mistake?'
'Guess I'm tired,' he excused himself lamely.
'But not from work!' she flung at him, her control snapping. 'I damn well saw you come out of the elevator at midnight with your girl-friend!'
Dane's indrawn breath was audible, but Leslie could see no sign of guilt. The opposite, in fact, for his jaw jutted forward aggressively.
'Is that why you came back earlier than planned?' he demanded. 'So you could spy on me?' Astonishingly he was now the accuser, not the defendant.
Until this moment, Leslie had had no intention of confessing everything. She had planned to continue acting the wronged wife, and leave with the burden of guilt resting firmly on Dane's shoulders, but the urge to make him suffer was too strong, and she lashed out at him furiously.
'How clever of you to guess! I knew from the start you were incapable of being faithful to one woman. So it was simply a matter of staying with you until I could find grounds for divorce!'
'You mean you've been looking for grounds?' He was so flummoxed he fell silent, his puzzled expression showing he didn't grasp the implication of what she had said. 'Are you telling me you married me with the sole intention of divorcing me?'
'Yes!'
'But why? For God's sake why?'
Because Robert Jordan—Charlene Jordan's husband, in case you've forgotten—was my stepfather.'
Slowly the colour ebbed from Dane's face, and his tan took on a yellowish tinge.
'I was in court the day you practically destroyed him,' she went on relentlessly. 'I watched you strip away his pride and make him a laughing-stock. And if that wasn't enough, you made sure Charlene sold the shares he'd given her to his biggest rival—which was the most despicable thing of all!'
Dane's mouth narrowed with temper. 'She told you, I suppose?'
'Yes. She came specially to Robert's funeral to do so.' Hope flared in Leslie and she could not stop herself voicing it. 'Isn't it true then? Didn't you make her sell to Imtex?'
'Trying to find something good in me?' Dane sneered. 'Don't waste your time, sweetheart, I told her exactly what to do.'
Bitterness rose like gall in Leslie's throat. 'I don't know how you can sleep easy at night knowing you caused a man's death. Robert would never have had a stroke if it hadn't been for you!'
Although Leslie no longer believed this, it was the way she had felt when she had married Dane, and she wanted him to know it.
'You really do hate me, don't you?' he said thickly.
'You'll never know how much,' she lied, an image of the black-haired girl rising before her. 'And tonight you played right into my hands. I'm going to divorce you for adultery and get the biggest alimony California's ever seen!'
'I'll deny it,' he told her.
'I've other grounds too.'
'Such as?'
'Mental cruelty; making my life a misery I couldn't bear going to bed with you. I even showed my doctor the bruises I got when you tried to force yourself on me.'
Dane's mouth went slack. 'Bruises? How in hell could you get bruises when I never laid a hand on you?'
'I fell climbing a ladder,' she confessed, 'and the black and blue marks on my shoulder were too good to waste.'
'You scheming bitch!' he grated. 'I've met a few in my time, but you're the worst!'
'Pity you didn't realise it before,* she taunted. 'What a story it'll make when it hits the papers! Brilliant lawyer played for a fool by the very sort of woman he's always defended!'
/> Silently Dane stared at her. His face was expressionless, and Leslie felt she was looking at a statue. Yet she knew him well enough to sense he was deeply shocked by her disclosures, so shocked that he was exerting iron control not to give her the satisfaction of seeing it. But she felt no sympathy for him; only anger against herself for thinking their marriage could have worked.
Silently she walked into the hall and pressed the elevator button, conscious of Dane's eyes boring into her.
'Goodbye,' she said loftily. 'See you in court.'
'I won't give you that pleasure,' he shot back. 'I'll settle out of it.'
'How intelligent of you. At least you'll save face—if not money!'
'My motive's purely altruistic,' he answered. 'I'd be prepared to give everything I owned never to set eyes on you again!'
'I'd never take everything,'' she said sweetly. 'I'll leave you enough to keep your girl-friends in the manner to which you're accustomed!'
He strode towards the elevator, and Leslie flinched back inside it, positive he was going to strike her. But she was wrong. All he did was press the button to close the door, as though the sight of her was more than he could bear.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Leslie's inclination, following her separation from Dane, was to leave her job and settle in another city, where there would be no reminders of him, no remembrance of their brief span together.
But she was loath to give up her job, and when she was unexpectedly offered a full partnership she couldn't bring herself to refuse it. However, she handed over the completion of Dane's house to one of the other architects in her firm.
Fortunately, she had retained the lease on her own apartment—though she had told Dane she had sublet it—and was able to move back straight away. Her 'daily' had kept the rooms spick and span, and once her clothes were back in the cupboards it was as if she had never been away. Well, almost, she admitted sadly to herself in the dark reaches of the night, for she was no longer the same person who had once lived here.
Roberta Leigh - Too Bad to be True Page 13
