Come Lie With Me (15 page)

There was another bottle of champagne at dinner that night. Serena hurled herself into Blake's arms when he broke the good news to her, wrenching sobs of relief shaking her body. It took some time to quiet her; she was almost wild with the joy of it. Richard, whose face had become more and more strained as the weeks passed, suddenly looked as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank God,” he said with heartfelt sincerity. “Now I can have that nervous breakdown I've been putting off for two years.”

Everyone laughed, but Blake said, “If anyone deserves a long vacation, it's you. As soon as I get back
into harness, you're relieved of duty for at least a month.”

Richard moved his shoulders tiredly. “I won't refuse it,” he said.

Serena looked at her husband with determined cheerfulness. “How about Hawaii?” she asked. “We could spend the whole month lying on the beach in paradise.”

Richard's mouth thinned. “Maybe later. I think I just need to be by myself for a while.”

Serena drew back as though he'd slapped her, and her cheeks paled. Blake looked at his sister, reading the dejection in her, and anger brightened the dark blue of his eyes. Dione put her hand on his sleeve to restrain him. Whatever problems Richard and Serena were having, they had to work them out by themselves. Blake couldn't keep smoothing the path for Serena; that was a large part of the trouble. He was so important to her that Richard felt slighted.

In only a moment Serena gathered herself and lifted her head, smiling as though Richard's comment had completely missed her. Dione couldn't help but admire her grit. She was a proud, stubborn woman; she didn't need big brother to fight her battles for her. All she had to do was realize that for herself, and make Blake realize it, too.

Dinner was an astonishing melange of items that weren't normally served together, and Dione suspected that Alberta was still celebrating. When the cornish hen was followed by fish, she knew that the three glasses of champagne had been too much. She made the mistake of glancing at Blake, and the barely controlled laughter on his face was too much for her. Suddenly everyone at the table was laughing, effectively banish
ing the silence that had fallen after Richard's rejection of Serena.

To keep from hurting Alberta's feelings, they made a valiant effort at eating everything placed before them, though she'd evidently gotten carried away and prepared much more than she normally did. If she hadn't been such a good cook, even when she was tipsy, it would have been impossible.

They could hear occasional bursts of song from the kitchen, and just the thought of Alberta, of all people, singing, was enough to bring on fresh bouts of hilarity. Dione laughed until her stomach muscles were sore. The champagne was having its effect on them, too, and she suspected that anything would have made them laugh at that point.

It was much later than usual when Serena and Richard left, and if nothing else, the champagne had destroyed the distance between them. Richard had to support his wobbly wife for the short distance to the car, and Serena was frankly hanging on him, laughing like a maniac. Dione was still sober enough to be glad that Richard handled his alcohol well, since he was driving, but she was also tipsy enough to fall into gales of laughter at the thought that it was a good thing Blake was still in a wheelchair; he'd never have made it up the stairs if he'd been walking.

He insisted that she help him undress, and she put him to bed as if he were a child. As she leaned over him to adjust the sheet, he caught her hand and pulled it. After the champagne, her balance wasn't the best it had ever been, and she tumbled across him. He stopped her giggles by kissing her slowly, sleepily, then settling her in his arms. “Sleep with me,” he demanded, then closed his eyes and fell immediately to sleep himself.

Dione smiled a little sadly. The lights were still blazing, and she was dressed in the royal-blue dress she'd put on to celebrate the occasion. She hadn't had
that
much to drink. After a few moments she gently extricated herself from his sleep-relaxed grip and slid from the bed. She turned out the lights, then made her way to her own room and removed the dress, dropping it carelessly on the floor. She, too, slept deeply, and woke the next morning with a headache that tempted her to just stay in bed.

With admirable, if painful, self-discipline, she got out of bed and showered, then went about her normal activities. The champagne hadn't affected Blake as much as it had her, and he was as clear-eyed as usual, ready to begin his exercises. After helping him to warm up, she left him to it and went to take a couple of aspirin.

Serena came in just as she was about to go downstairs—a radiant Serena, whose mouth seemed curved in a permanent smile. “Hi,” she said cheerfully. “Where's Blake?”

When Dione told her, she said, “Good, I came to see you, not him. I just wanted to ask you how the chase is going.”

It took a moment before Dione realized what she meant; her “scheme” to attract Blake had been so short-lived that, in retrospect, it seemed silly that she'd gotten so upset over something so trivial. Other worries had taken over her time and attention. “Everything's fine,” she said, forcing herself to smile. “I think everything's fine with you, too. You look better than I'd expected you to look this morning.”

Serena gave her a wink. “I hadn't had that much to drink,” she admitted without a hint of shame. “It just seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. You
inspired me; if you could go after the man you wanted, why couldn't I? He's my husband, for heaven's sake! So I seduced him last night.”

Despite her headache Dione chuckled. Serena grinned. “The war isn't won yet, but I've recaptured some lost territory. I've decided that I'm going to get pregnant.”

“Is that wise?” So many things could go wrong. If the marriage failed, then Serena would be left to raise the child alone. Or Richard might stay because of the child, but that seemed like a hellish situation for all concerned.

“I know Richard,” said Serena with confidence. “I've offended him, and it'll take him a while to forgive me, but I really think that he loves me. Having his baby will show him how much I love him, too.”

“What he really needs is to know that you love him more than you love Blake,” Dione said. She felt a little uneasy at giving advice; what did she know about handling a love life? Her own brief experience with marriage had been disastrous.

“I
do!
I love Richard in an entirely different way from the way I love Blake.”

“If you were faced with a situation where you could save one of them, but not both of them, which one would you save?”

Serena paled, staring at her.

“Think it over,” Dione said gently. “That's what Richard wants. Your wedding vows were to forsake all others.”

“You're telling me that I have to let Blake go, to cut him out of my life.”

“Not entirely; just change the amount of time that you devote to him.”

“I shouldn't have dinner over here every night, should I?”

“I'm sure Richard wonders which house you consider your home.”

Serena was a fighter; she absorbed Dione's words, and for a moment she looked frightened. Then her shoulders straightened and her chin went up. “You're right,” she said forcefully. “You're a dear!” She startled Dione by giving her a fierce hug. “Poor Richard won't know what's hit him. I'm going to positively smother him with tender loving care! You can be the baby's godmother,” she added with a wicked twinkle.

“I'll remember that,” said Dione, but after Serena had left she wondered if Serena would remember. By that time, Dione would be long gone.

T
he next day, without mentioning it to anyone, Dione began making arrangements to take another case. She'd give herself time to recover from the pain of losing Blake, time to adjust to waking up without knowing that he was in the next room. She'd begin at the end of January, she thought. Blake would be returning to work after the first of January, and she'd probably leave sometime around then.

Now that success was in his grasp, Blake pushed himself harder. Dione gave up even trying to rein in his energy. She watched him force himself along the bars, sweating, cursing steadily as an antidote against the pain and weariness, and when he was too tired to continue she'd massage his exhausted body, put him in the whirlpool, then give him another massage. She watched his diet more closely than ever, knowing how badly he needed extra nutrition now. When cramps knotted his legs in the night, she rubbed them out for him. There was no stopping him.

It was time for him to leave the wheelchair behind. She brought in a walker, a four-legged half cage that provided him with the balance and stability he needed, and the pleasure of getting around under his own power was so great that he gladly endured the slow pace, the strain.

He didn't mention Serena's sudden absence from the
dinner table, though Alberta immediately adjusted both her menus and the amount she cooked. The full dinners almost ceased; instead she began preparing small, light dinners, and Dione often found the table set with candles and a decanter of wine. The intimate atmosphere was another spike that crucified her heart, but as Blake welcomed the pain of therapy, she welcomed the hurt of his company. This was all she had, and the days were trickling away so swiftly that she felt as if she were grasping at shadows.

On Thanksgiving Day, following Blake's directions, she drove them to Serena's house for dinner. Except for being transferred from the hospital to home, it was the first time he'd been out since his accident, and he sat turned to stone, his entire body tense as his senses struggled to take everything in. In two years Scottsdale had changed, cars had changed, clothing had changed. She wondered if the desert sky seemed bluer to him, the sun brighter.

“When will I be able to drive?” he asked abruptly.

“When your reflexes are fast enough. Soon,” she promised absently. She seldom drove, and she had to concentrate on what she was doing. She jumped when his hand rested on her knee, then slid up under the skirt she was wearing to pat her thigh.

“Next week we'll start practicing,” he said. “We'll go out in the desert, away from all the traffic.”

“Yes, fine,” she said, her voice taut with tension caused by the warm hand on her leg. He touched her constantly, bestowing kisses and pats, but somehow his hand seemed much more intimate when she had on a skirt.

A smile twitched at his lips. “I like that dress,” he said.

She gave him a harried glance. He liked every dress she wore, evidently. He was definitely a leg man. He slid closer and bent his head to inhale the perfume she'd used in honor of the occasion, his warm breath caressing her collarbone just before he pressed his lips into the soft hollow. Simultaneously his hand slid higher, and the car wobbled dangerously before Dione straightened it.

“Stop it!” she fumed, pushing uselessly at his hand. “You're making me nervous! I don't drive that well anyway!”

“Then put both hands on the wheel,” he advised, laughing. “I'm in the same car, remember? I'm not going to do anything that'll cause you to crash.”

“You wretch!” she shouted as his fingers began stroking back and forth over her thigh. “Damn it, Blake, would you stop it! I'm not a doll for you to play with!”

“I'm not playing,” he murmured. His fingers circled higher.

Desperately Dione released the wheel and grabbed his wrist with both hands. The car veered sideways, and with a curse he finally moved his hand, grabbing the steering wheel and bringing the car back under control. “Maybe I'd better start driving
now
,” he panted.

“You're going to be walking to Serena's!” she yelled, her face scarlet.

He threw his head back and laughed. “You don't know how good that sounds, lady! It would take me a while, but I could do it! God, I feel like a human being again!”

Abruptly she realized that his spirits were sky-high, the natural result of his victory and the experience of being away from the house. He was delirious with pleasure, drunk on his newfound freedom from the prison
of his own body. Still, she was driving, and she was afraid that he was going to make her run into something.

“I mean it, stop fooling around!” she said sharply.

He gave her a lazy smile, a heart-stopping smile. “Lady, if I decided to fool around, you'd be the first to know.”

“Why don't you go back to work tomorrow?” she demanded in sudden exasperation.

“We're closed for the holidays. I wouldn't have anything to do.”

“I'm going to give you something to do,” she muttered.

“Like what?”

“Picking your teeth up off the pavement,” she said.

He threw his hands up in mock alarm. “All right, all right! I'll be good. Next thing I know, you'll be sending me to bed without my supper. I wouldn't really mind, though, because you always come to tuck me in, and I get to watch you running around in those thin nightgowns of yours that you think are so modest…. Serena's house is the solar redwood and rock one.'

He threw in the last sentence just as she opened her mouth to blast him again, and she maneuvered the Audi up the steep drive to where the house nestled against the mountain. By the time she'd gotten out of the car and gone around to help Blake wrestle with the walker, Serena and Richard had come out to greet them.

The steps were a problem for Blake, but he mastered them. Serena watched, an anxious look on her face, but she didn't run to help him. Instead she stayed firmly by Richard's side, her arm looped through his. Dione remained a step behind Blake, not out of servitude but to catch him in case he started to tumble. He looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “Not bad, huh?”

“A regular goat,” she replied, and only he caught her hidden meaning.

He gave her another of his breathtaking smiles. “Don't you mean mountain goat?”

She shrugged. “A goat is a goat is a goat.”

His eyes promised retribution, but she felt safe from him for the time being. If he started anything on the drive back home,
she'd
get out and walk!

The traditional dinner had all of them groaning before it was over. Blake and Richard then retired to talk business, and Dione helped Serena clear the table. Serena had a cook, but she told Dione that everything had been prepared the day before and she'd given the cook the rest of the week off. “I don't mind being alone in the house with Richard,” she said, laughing a little.

“Is Operation Manhunt going well?” asked Dione.

“At times.” Serena laughed. “Sometimes I…ah…undermine his resistance. Then he'll freeze up on me again. But I think I'm winning the battle. He noticed that I've stopped going to Blake's every day.”

“Did he ask you about it?”

“Richard? Not a chance! But he calls me almost every afternoon about some little something, as if he's checking on me.”

They traded a few comments on the mule-headedness of men in general and finished cleaning the kitchen. When they finally emerged they discovered that the men were still deep in conversation about the company, with Richard going over some sort of electronic blueprint with Blake. Dione looked at Serena, and they both shrugged. Kicking off their shoes, they sat down, and Serena used the remote control to turn on the television set, which revealed two football teams tearing into each other.

Within ten minutes the men had left their technical conversation and were sitting beside the women. Dione liked football, so she didn't mind watching the game, and evidently Serena shared the same fondness for it. At first Dione didn't pay attention to the hand that touched her shoulder, lying absently over it so that the fingers touched her collarbone. Gradually the touch firmed, shifted and exerted pressure. Without quite knowing how it had happened, she suddenly realized that she was leaning back in the circle of Blake's arm, resting against his chest while his arm kept her firmly anchored there.

The startled movement of her body brought a knowing smile to his lips, but he merely held her more closely than before. “Shhh. Just watch the game,” he murmured.

She was so rattled that nothing sank into her consciousness, but eventually the warmth of his body began to relax her. He would behave himself here, so she was free to enjoy the sensation, let herself drown in the heady scent of his skin. All too soon she would have only the memories of him to take out and savor.

The time passed swiftly. Incredibly they became hungry again, so everyone raided the refrigerator and constructed enormous sandwiches of turkey, lettuce, tomato and anything else they could find. Blake's sweet tooth demanded feeding, and he devoured what was left of the strawberry pie. The atmosphere was easy, comfortable, and he commented on it when they were driving home late that night.

“Serena and Richard seem to have patched up their differences,” he said, watching her sharply in the dim light from the dash.

“I think they're well on their way,” she said, care
fully keeping her tone bland. She wasn't about to divulge anything Serena had told her.

When they got home Dione looked him squarely in the eye and smiled. “I really don't think there's any need for me to tuck you in any longer,” she said sweetly. “You're perfectly mobile now. I'll see you in the morning. Good night.”

As she let herself into her room she heard him doing a perfect imitation of a chicken clucking, and she had to bite her lip to stifle her laughter. The monster!

But when he called her several hours later, jerking her out of a sound sleep, she didn't hesitate. She hurried to his room and flipped on the light switch. He was lying on his stomach, hopelessly tangled in the sheet as he tried to reach his left leg.

“Easy,” she crooned, finding the cramp and briskly rubbing the muscle of his calf between her hands. He went limp with relief as the pain eased away.

“How much longer will this go on?” he muttered into his pillow.

“Until your muscles are used to the demands you're making on them,” she said. “It's not as bad as it was. You seldom have a cramp in your right leg now.”

“I know. My left leg drags more than the right. I'll always limp, won't I?”

“Who knows? It won't matter, though. You'll look smashing with a cane.”

He laughed and rolled over on his back, tangling the sheet even more. Despite what she'd said earlier, Dione bent over him and automatically began straightening the sheet. “You managed to make a disaster area of your bed,” she complained.

“I was restless tonight,” he said, his voice suddenly strained.

Dione glanced up, and her hands froze at their task. He was staring at her, his gaze locked on her breasts. A look of such raw hunger was in his eyes that she would have flinched away if she'd had any strength in her limbs. But she continued to sit on the side of his bed, mesmerized by the way his gaze moved lovingly, longingly, over her female curves.

“Lady, what you do to me is almost criminal,” he groaned in a shaky voice.

An odd tightening in her breasts made her close her eyes. “I've got to go,” she said weakly, but for the life of her she couldn't make herself move.

“No, don't go,” he pleaded. “Let me touch you…my God, I've got to touch you!”

Dione caught her breath on a sob as she felt his fingertips trace lightly over her breast, and she squeezed her eyes shut even more tightly than before. For a moment the awful unfamiliarity of a man's touch on her breast brought back a nightmare of pain and humiliation, and she made a choked sound of protest.

“Dee, honey, open your eyes. Look at me; look at how I'm shaking. Touching you makes me dizzy,” he whispered fiercely. “I get drunk on the very smell of you.”

Dione's eyes fluttered open, and she found that he'd moved closer, until his face was filling her vision. It was Blake's face, not Scott's, and his blue eyes were as dark and stormy as the sea, full of incredible hunger. His trembling fingers were still moving only lightly over her breasts, though the heat of his hand burned her even through her nightgown.

“That…that's enough,” she said, her voice thin, wavering out of control. “This isn't right.”

“I need you,” he cajoled. “It's been so long…can't
you tell how much I need you? Please. Let me touch you, really touch you. Let me unbutton this granny gown and see you.”

Even as the words were tumbling harshly from his lips, his agile fingers were slipping the tiny buttons of her nightgown free of the buttonholes. The buttons ran down to her waist, and he undid every one of them while she sat helplessly transfixed by the primitive call of his need. Slowly, with rapt attention, he opened the gown and pushed it off her smoothly tanned shoulders, dropping the cloth around her arms and baring her to the waist.