“Thank you for agreeing to let me stay here.” Derry sat on the edge of the bed with her back to Alec.
“It’s only a few days.” He shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it on the bed.
“I know, but thank you.”
Alec stared at the back of her head, surprised at her diffidence, a term he’d never associated with his wife. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he didn’t want to deal with the actual sharing of the bed part yet, he said, “How’s your sister doing? She seemed pretty mellowed-out.”
Derry let out a small laugh and turned toward him. “You should’ve seen her at dinner. She had Charlie practically spitting milk through his nose with her stories. I think she wore herself out.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.” He’d planned it that way, of course. Anything to prolong seeing his wife again. So, he’d wandered to La Trattoria and suffered through a tedious dinner with his investment advisor about the next Amazon stock, most of which he tuned out. All he could think of was Derry in their house again, touching the same things he’d touched that morning, moving through the same rooms, breathing the same air.
Alec plodded through half his Veal Piccata, forcing his jaw to move with slow, mechanical precision. His senses were so full of Derry that he tasted nothing, and when the waiter brought a dessert tray lined with his favorite pastries, he declined.
Filing divorce papers against a woman who was five hundred plus miles away was one thing, but when she was sitting on the other side of the bed, wearing boxer shorts and a tank top, with no bra, well, dammit, that muddled a man’s senses. Images of Derry sexing it up with Steve Miller exploded in his brain. He wanted to grab the photos from his study drawer, throw them on the bed and force her to explain.
But part of him did not want to see those lips admitting her betrayal. Not yet.
“Sheila told me I was the one our mother wanted.” Her blue eyes glittered. “All these years I thought I was the cast-off, but she had it so much worse. It must have been hell to live with a mother who didn’t want her.”
Alec sank onto his side of the bed, thankful it was a king size. Seeing her so vulnerable made him want to touch her, take her in his arms and comfort her.
And that would be a big mistake.
He propped a pillow behind his head and stuck his arms under it to prevent himself from doing something stupid. It was hard to think with her so close, looking so needy.
“Maybe that explains why she’s so out there,” he said, determined to talk his way out of his growing desire for his adulterous wife.
“She taught at Berkeley,” Derry said, “and she holds a Ph.D. in Abnormal Psychology. But she can’t seem to conquer the demons inside. I know what that’s like,” she murmured.
Skip that subject. “How long do you think she’ll be staying?”
She shrugged and the cotton tank pulled against her left breast. Alec pictured himself sliding the tank over her head, pictured the perfect, pale breasts filling his hands.
“A few days, maybe a week.”
He nodded, his eyes on the slim column of her neck. He’d had many women before Derry, but none since her and none like her. She rendered him powerful and weak, zealous and humble. If only they’d been able to get past the truth about Charlie.
“Did she tell you she’s a schizophrenic?”
That snapped him back to the conversation quick. “What?”
Derry worked her lower lip through her teeth, something she did when she was nervous. “A schizophrenic. She said she’s fine as long as she takes her medication.”
“Great.” He ran a hand over his face and rubbed his jaw. “Just what I need in the house, another Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”
“Implying I’m the first Jekyll and Hyde?”
His face turned hot and he mumbled, “You’ve had your moments lately.”
“I guess I have.” She sighed. “I need her to stay, Alec. It’s the least I can do.”
“I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I should’ve had her investigated.”
“For God’s sake, she’s not a criminal.”
“No, but you’d be surprised what you can discover when you start looking.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He didn’t miss the edge in her voice that said, don’t engage, but he plowed forward. “Sometimes people say one thing and do another. Or”—he forced her to meet his gaze—“sometimes they do whatever they want because they don’t think anyone will ever find out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
“Well, you should know, shouldn’t you?”
“I was talking about you.”
“Me?” If he thought Derry had a new subdued persona, he was wrong. This casual, veiled accusation had her furious. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
God, she was a good liar. “As a matter of fact, I do. Would you care to compare notes?”
Her mouth flattened into a thin line. “No, I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction. Just don’t think I didn’t figure out why you were never here every time I called. I know what you were doing, Alec.” She leaned forward and spat out in a low voice, “I know.”
Right. Let her think he was screwing somebody, at least she wouldn’t know the hold she had on him.
“And I know what you’ve been doing, so we’re even. It’ll all come out soon enough.”
“Sending me divorce papers through the mail was really cheap.”
He shrugged. “I wanted to give you plenty of time to adjust to the idea.”
“I’m fine.” Her chest heaved with an effort to control her temper. “I just don’t want to deal with this right now, not until Sheila leaves. Can you do that for me?”
“Oh.” He let out a harsh laugh. “You want me to play the loving husband for your new-found sister.”
“I have to give her something to believe in.”
“Even if it’s a lie.”
She looked away. “It wasn’t always a lie,” she said in a quiet voice.
“No, it wasn’t.” In that moment, Alec loved and hated her with an equal fierceness that scared him. He wanted to make love to her as much as he wanted to choke the life from her beautiful body. He was the one who’d become Jekyll and Hyde.
“What do you want, Alec? Tell me what it will take to get you to agree.”
Now, there was the fifty million dollar proposition. What did he want? The answer spewed from his lips before he could pull it back. “You. Willingly, openly, every night until she leaves.”
***
“Oh, baby, I missed you.” Richard trailed a tan finger along Shea’s leg. “You have no idea how much.”
Shea shifted on the couch and fixed her gaze on the television. He’d been touching her for the last forty minutes. Mini massages to the neck and shoulders, strokes to the arms, butterfly caresses on her belly and legs. And she felt nothing but growing irritation.
“Do you hear me, baby?” His husky voice slid over her. “Do you hear the want in my voice?”
“Is that the same want you used for Tanya?” She kept her eyes on the television screen.
“Aw, Christ, baby, I made a mistake. I’ve been apologizing for the last two hours. Don’t make me pay for it for the rest of my life.”
“You moved in with her, Richard,” Shea said, wondering why she didn’t feel outrage at the words. “You got her pregnant.” Even those words didn’t spark the angry despair she’d suffered six weeks ago.
“It might not even be my kid. I wasn’t the only one she was screw—I mean, involved with.”
“Tanya’s been a busy girl.”
“She’s a slut.”
“And you just realized that?”
The caressing stopped. Thank God. “Look at me, baby. Don’t turn away.” And then, from the depths of a place she didn’t know existed in him, he said, “Please?”
Curiosity made her shift toward him. He looked the same. Still handsome in a George Hamilton way, with a deep, rich voice that made women want to please him.
“We can start over, do it right this time.” His silver eyes shimmered. “I was thinking we could fly to Vegas and renew our marriage vows, stay at the Bellagio. What do you think?”
What did she think? That the delivery was perfect, the inflection precise, the tone superb. Even the suggestion proved commendable. Only one area suffered—that innate trait that couldn’t be cultivated or captured, and which Richard sadly lacked, had always lacked but hidden so well. Sincerity. Marcus Orelean had possessed an abundance of sincerity. Shea forced him from her thoughts and said, “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?” His expression darkened but he persisted. “You were always the one who said you wanted a romantic wedding. Well, I’m offering it to you. I can schedule a flight for Thursday.”
“I think we should wait.”
“I’m trying here, Shea, I just need a little help.”
“Why don’t we see whose baby Tanya’s carrying before we think about renewing any vows?” The absurdity of discussing her husband’s paternity woes made her want to burst out laughing.
Maybe she was going to be okay after all.
Richard was another story.
“It’s about the kid, isn’t it?” He flashed her one of his ultra-white smiles and said, “If you really want a kid, we’ll have one. Okay?”
Shea scooted out of his lap and plunked herself next to him. “Richard, this is not about the baby I lost.” Finally, there was a trickle of pain oozing out.
He had the honesty to look confused. “What then?”
“This marriage.” She spread her hands wide, palms up. “It isn’t working; it hasn’t worked in a long time. Maybe it never worked.”
“I’ll start being around more, okay?”
“It’s not just that—”
“And I won’t look at any more women, ever.”
“Richard, stop.”
“I need this, Shea.” Just the slightest touch of desperation skittered across his handsome face. “You can’t give up on me, I need you.”
She didn’t want to be needed. She hated it. Why couldn’t she ever be the one to need someone?
“Tell me what you want. Anything. Just don’t leave me.”