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She laughed despite herself. But Donavan was silent all through the meal, and afterward.
While Fay was washing dishes, he came into the room. His hands were dangling from the thumbs in
his jeans pockets, his silver eyes watchful in a face like a carving in a stone cliff.
"I heard you call Abby Ballenger just before supper. Why? Did you tell her you were resigning?" he
asked slowly.
"I'm not resigning. You do realize that paperwork and so forth takes time?" she added, playing for
time. "I don't automatically inherit. Neither does Uncle Henry."
"You wouldn't have known that by the way he was talking on the way to his house," he reminded her
with a calculating smile. "He's already got his money spent. Or he will have, by the time he actually
gets it."
She didn't speak. He made her nervous. It was impossible to be in the same room with him and not
remember how it had been between them that one night of their honeymoon. Even without the ultimate
intimacy, she'd had a taste of Donavan that still could make her head spin. She loved him with all her
heart. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd owned several multinational corporations or only a rope 'and
an old horse. She loved him so much that his circumstances would never have made any difference.
But he didn't feel the same about her, and she didn't need him to put it into words. She had money or
so he thought and he didn't, so he didn't want her. Nothing would alter his opinion one iota, and she
knew that, too.
"I should have stayed there with you, shouldn't I?" he asked unexpectedly. "You look worn to a nub,
Fay. All that grief and your uncle to deal with at once. I suppose all the details were left up to you."
It was a question, she supposed. "Yes," she replied. "Uncle Henry was able to make the funeral
arrangements, though, with the attorney's help. I sorted out the things in the apartment " She stopped,
blinking to stay the tears. She washed the same plate again, slowly. "It was so empty without her."
He hesitated. "So was this house, without you in it," he said gruffly.
She swallowed. She didn't dare turn around. "Thanks, but you don't have to pretend. I haven't lived
here long enough to make any real difference in your life, or Jeffs. You're a better cook than I am,
and you've had people to help you straighten up. I'm just a temporary convenience. Nothing more."
He was conscious of a terrible wounding in her and in himself. Had he made her feel so inadequate
that she thought he was better off without her than with her?
"The boy wants to see that new adventure movie that just came out. It's playing at the Longview. Want
to come with us?"
"Oh, no, I don't think so," she forced herself to say. "I'm very tired. You two go ahead, and enjoy
yourselves. I just want to go to bed and sleep the clock around."
He hesitated. "Fay, we can wait until you're rested."
"I don't like movies, honestly," she said quickly. "But thanks all the same."
He moved closer, his eyes narrow and concerned. "You've had a rough time lately, and I haven't been
much help. Listen, Fay..."
"I don't need pity," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil his nearness aroused. She dried her
hands and sidestepped away from him. "I'm learning to stand on my own two feet. I won't pretend it's
easy, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of it. After the custody hearing next week, I may see about
moving back to my apartment house."
"You're assuming that I'll win it," he said formally. "There's a good chance that I won't. And if you tip
out the front door hours later, Jeffs stepfather may appeal the court's decision even if I do win. Proof
of an unstable home life would cost dearly."
Incredible that he sounded so determined to keep her with him, when she knew that wasn't -what he
wanted at all. Of course, it was for Jeffs sake. He loved the boy, if he loved no one else.
"All right," she said, sounding and feeling trapped. She sighed deeply. "I'll stay as long as you need
me."
"If you stay that long, you'll never leave," he said curtly.
He turned and left the room, with Fay staring after him in a daze, not quite sure that she'd really heard
him right. Probably, she thought later, it was only wishful thinking on her part.
They fell into a routine as the days passed. Fay went back to work, despite Donavan's comment that
she was taking a job that someone else might really need, and Jeff went to school each day and began
to look the very picture of a happy boy.
Fay worked harder than she ever had before, deliberately putting in late hours and paying more
attention to detail than ever. Calhoun and Justin Bal-lenger were complimentary and appreciative of
her efforts. Donavan was not.
"You do nothing but work!" he complained one evening when she wasn't working late a rarity in
recent days. "Don't Jeff and I count with you?"
"Uncle Don, Fay has to do her job right," Jeff pointed out. He grinned. "Besides, Mr. Ballenger says
she's saved them plenty with all that hard work."
Donavan finished his dessert and reached for the carafe, to pour himself a second cup of coffee. "So I
hear."
"You don't work any less hard yourself," Fay accused him. "And I don't complain."
His silver eyes met hers with cold impact. "Most brand-new wives would."
He was making an insinuation that, fortunately, went right over Jeffs head. But Fay knew what he was
really saying, and she flushed.
"Yes, well, ours is hardly a normal situation."
"It could be," he said, startling her into looking up. There was no teasing, no mockery in his
expression. He was deadly serious.
Fay flushed. "There's no time."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
The flush grew worse. Jeff finished the last of his dessert and excused himself. "I want to get out of
the line of fire," he said dryly, and closed the door into the living room. Seconds later, the TV blared
out.
"Turn that damned thing down!" Donavan raged.
"You bet!" Jeff said irrepressibly and barely touched the knob.
Donavan, placated, was still glaring at Fay. "We're husband and wife," he reminded her. "There's no
reason on earth that you can't share a bed with me."
"There's a very good one," she differed. She put down her napkin. "When Jeffs situation is resolved, I
don't plan to stay here any longer than I have to. I won't risk getting pregnant."
His face drained of color. He looked...wounded. Cut to the bone. Fay felt sick at the careless comment
when she saw its results. She hadn't even meant it. She loved him, but he only wanted her. She was
fighting for her emotional survival, with the few weapons she had left.
"I didn't mean that," she said stiffly, averting her eyes. "Not like it sounded. But you must realize I'm
right. A baby right now would...would complicate things."
"You don't think children can be prevented?" he asked with cutting sarcasm.
She lifted her eyes to his. "I won't be around that much longer," she said quietly. "I realize I must be
stifling your sex life, and I'm sorry, but very soon I'll be gone and you can... Your life can get back to
normal."
He grew colder in front of her eyes. He threw down his napkin and slowly got to his feet. "So that's
what it's come down to in your mind. I'm hot for a woman and you're someone I can use in the
meantime, until I'm free."
She went scarlet. "You can't pretend you feel anything other than desire for me," she said proudly.
"After all, I'm rich."
His gaze averted to the table. He stared at it for a long moment. "Yes." He'd almost forgotten.
Memories came back, of his father's greed, the censure after Rand Langley's second wife had
committed suicide. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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She laughed despite herself. But Donavan was silent all through the meal, and afterward.
While Fay was washing dishes, he came into the room. His hands were dangling from the thumbs in
his jeans pockets, his silver eyes watchful in a face like a carving in a stone cliff.
"I heard you call Abby Ballenger just before supper. Why? Did you tell her you were resigning?" he
asked slowly.
"I'm not resigning. You do realize that paperwork and so forth takes time?" she added, playing for
time. "I don't automatically inherit. Neither does Uncle Henry."
"You wouldn't have known that by the way he was talking on the way to his house," he reminded her
with a calculating smile. "He's already got his money spent. Or he will have, by the time he actually
gets it."
She didn't speak. He made her nervous. It was impossible to be in the same room with him and not
remember how it had been between them that one night of their honeymoon. Even without the ultimate
intimacy, she'd had a taste of Donavan that still could make her head spin. She loved him with all her
heart. It wouldn't have mattered if he'd owned several multinational corporations or only a rope 'and
an old horse. She loved him so much that his circumstances would never have made any difference.
But he didn't feel the same about her, and she didn't need him to put it into words. She had money or
so he thought and he didn't, so he didn't want her. Nothing would alter his opinion one iota, and she
knew that, too.
"I should have stayed there with you, shouldn't I?" he asked unexpectedly. "You look worn to a nub,
Fay. All that grief and your uncle to deal with at once. I suppose all the details were left up to you."
It was a question, she supposed. "Yes," she replied. "Uncle Henry was able to make the funeral
arrangements, though, with the attorney's help. I sorted out the things in the apartment " She stopped,
blinking to stay the tears. She washed the same plate again, slowly. "It was so empty without her."
He hesitated. "So was this house, without you in it," he said gruffly.
She swallowed. She didn't dare turn around. "Thanks, but you don't have to pretend. I haven't lived
here long enough to make any real difference in your life, or Jeffs. You're a better cook than I am,
and you've had people to help you straighten up. I'm just a temporary convenience. Nothing more."
He was conscious of a terrible wounding in her and in himself. Had he made her feel so inadequate
that she thought he was better off without her than with her?
"The boy wants to see that new adventure movie that just came out. It's playing at the Longview. Want
to come with us?"
"Oh, no, I don't think so," she forced herself to say. "I'm very tired. You two go ahead, and enjoy
yourselves. I just want to go to bed and sleep the clock around."
He hesitated. "Fay, we can wait until you're rested."
"I don't like movies, honestly," she said quickly. "But thanks all the same."
He moved closer, his eyes narrow and concerned. "You've had a rough time lately, and I haven't been
much help. Listen, Fay..."
"I don't need pity," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil his nearness aroused. She dried her
hands and sidestepped away from him. "I'm learning to stand on my own two feet. I won't pretend it's
easy, but I think I'm finally getting the hang of it. After the custody hearing next week, I may see about
moving back to my apartment house."
"You're assuming that I'll win it," he said formally. "There's a good chance that I won't. And if you tip
out the front door hours later, Jeffs stepfather may appeal the court's decision even if I do win. Proof
of an unstable home life would cost dearly."
Incredible that he sounded so determined to keep her with him, when she knew that wasn't -what he
wanted at all. Of course, it was for Jeffs sake. He loved the boy, if he loved no one else.
"All right," she said, sounding and feeling trapped. She sighed deeply. "I'll stay as long as you need
me."
"If you stay that long, you'll never leave," he said curtly.
He turned and left the room, with Fay staring after him in a daze, not quite sure that she'd really heard
him right. Probably, she thought later, it was only wishful thinking on her part.
They fell into a routine as the days passed. Fay went back to work, despite Donavan's comment that
she was taking a job that someone else might really need, and Jeff went to school each day and began
to look the very picture of a happy boy.
Fay worked harder than she ever had before, deliberately putting in late hours and paying more
attention to detail than ever. Calhoun and Justin Bal-lenger were complimentary and appreciative of
her efforts. Donavan was not.
"You do nothing but work!" he complained one evening when she wasn't working late a rarity in
recent days. "Don't Jeff and I count with you?"
"Uncle Don, Fay has to do her job right," Jeff pointed out. He grinned. "Besides, Mr. Ballenger says
she's saved them plenty with all that hard work."
Donavan finished his dessert and reached for the carafe, to pour himself a second cup of coffee. "So I
hear."
"You don't work any less hard yourself," Fay accused him. "And I don't complain."
His silver eyes met hers with cold impact. "Most brand-new wives would."
He was making an insinuation that, fortunately, went right over Jeffs head. But Fay knew what he was
really saying, and she flushed.
"Yes, well, ours is hardly a normal situation."
"It could be," he said, startling her into looking up. There was no teasing, no mockery in his
expression. He was deadly serious.
Fay flushed. "There's no time."
He lifted an eyebrow. "I beg your pardon?"
The flush grew worse. Jeff finished the last of his dessert and excused himself. "I want to get out of
the line of fire," he said dryly, and closed the door into the living room. Seconds later, the TV blared
out.
"Turn that damned thing down!" Donavan raged.
"You bet!" Jeff said irrepressibly and barely touched the knob.
Donavan, placated, was still glaring at Fay. "We're husband and wife," he reminded her. "There's no
reason on earth that you can't share a bed with me."
"There's a very good one," she differed. She put down her napkin. "When Jeffs situation is resolved, I
don't plan to stay here any longer than I have to. I won't risk getting pregnant."
His face drained of color. He looked...wounded. Cut to the bone. Fay felt sick at the careless comment
when she saw its results. She hadn't even meant it. She loved him, but he only wanted her. She was
fighting for her emotional survival, with the few weapons she had left.
"I didn't mean that," she said stiffly, averting her eyes. "Not like it sounded. But you must realize I'm
right. A baby right now would...would complicate things."
"You don't think children can be prevented?" he asked with cutting sarcasm.
She lifted her eyes to his. "I won't be around that much longer," she said quietly. "I realize I must be
stifling your sex life, and I'm sorry, but very soon I'll be gone and you can... Your life can get back to
normal."
He grew colder in front of her eyes. He threw down his napkin and slowly got to his feet. "So that's
what it's come down to in your mind. I'm hot for a woman and you're someone I can use in the
meantime, until I'm free."
She went scarlet. "You can't pretend you feel anything other than desire for me," she said proudly.
"After all, I'm rich."
His gaze averted to the table. He stared at it for a long moment. "Yes." He'd almost forgotten.
Memories came back, of his father's greed, the censure after Rand Langley's second wife had
committed suicide. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]