Friends and Lovers (13 page)

“Then who called Josito and asked where I’d be tonight?” he growled, his silver eyes pinning hers. “Josito thought it was you.”

“It was Maisie!” she countered without thinking.

“Same difference,” he shot back. “Well, go ahead. Tell me he was in your bedroom as a joke.”

“He was!” she bit off, her eyes unconsciously pleading with him. “It was all just to needle you!”

“It did bother me, for a minute or two,” he admitted, stopping in the middle of the floor to glare down at her. “But when I came to my senses, I realized I didn’t really give a damn why he was there. I don’t want a woman who’ll go straight from my bed to another man’s.”

“Then what are you doing hanging out with Melody, darling?” she asked with sweet sarcasm, unprepared for the effect the casual endearment had on him.

He caught his breath, his big body tautening as he looked at her, and for just an instant it all fell away, and they were back at the beginning, so hungry for each other that nothing else mattered. She looked into his darkening eyes, took a step toward him and stumbled clumsily.

She didn’t realize that she was going down until he caught her against him and held her up.

“What is it?” he asked curtly. “Are you drunk?”

She drew in a deep, steadying breath, glorying in the feel of his hands on her, his body so close that she could feel it and smell the clean, enticing fragrance of it.

“My shoe slid,” she said defiantly.

“Well, pull yourself together,” he growled, his hands tightening on her bare arms, hurting. “This isn’t Elise’s party, and I’m not carrying you out of here in a mock faint. I told you it was over between us, and I meant it. I don’t want you anymore, Madeline.”

Nothing, ever, had hurt as much as those last few words. She looked up at him in an absolute fog. Her eyes, betraying the hurt, were wide and green and misty with sudden tears. Her lower lip trembled, catching his attention, and something wild shadowed over his face for an instant.

She pulled away from him, avoiding his eyes. “Excuse me, won’t you?” she asked in a thin, ultrapolite tone.

“Madeline…” There was an uncharacteristic indecision in that deep, slow voice, but she wasn’t going to wait to find out what he wanted.

She pivoted away from the table and headed into the ladies’ room, darting past a stunned Melody to take refuge in one of the stalls.

When she had taken a few deep, steadying breaths, composed her features and assured herself she was not going to cry, she joined Melody in front of the mirror. Her face was pale, and her eyes unnaturally bright.

“Something wrong?” Melody asked with a careless glance as she finished layering on red lipstick. “You don’t look too great.”

“Just a little too much wine,” Madeline lied, closing her eyes.

Melody put away the lipstick and snapped her purse together. “Well, I’d better get back to Johnny before he misses me. Oooh, isn’t he just too much?” she sighed. “So macho…we’re going to spend next weekend in Nassau—he has a house there, you know. I can hardly wait! Well, see you, honey, I hope you feel better.
Ciao!
”

The bottled up tears ran down Madeline’s cheeks like raindrops. She hated John and Melody and all she wanted to do was go home and forget this terrible night.

She drew out some makeup and tried to make herself look alive. She touched up her cheeks and her mouth and went back out to the table where Donald was waiting.

He looked up as she eased into her seat, his brows drawing together.

“What the hell’s the matter?” he burst out.

Her eyebrows went arching up. “What do you mean?”

“You look like a painted corpse,” he replied bluntly. He grabbed the check and stood up. “We’re going, right now.”

“But…”

“No buts. I never should have brought you here. I’m sorry, Madeline. Come on.” He put his arm around her waist and drew her along with him toward the exit. She felt John’s eyes on her back, but she didn’t dare look. He didn’t want her anymore. She was just going to have to get used to that.

Donald saw her into the garage apartment, wavering uncertainly as he held the doorknob in his hand.

“What did he do to upset you so?” he asked, concerned.

She smiled, shaking her head. “Nothing. It was just awkward seeing him again.”

He jammed his hands into his pockets, grimacing. “And my fault,” he ground out. He managed to look ashamed of himself. “You’re John’s one weakness,” he said after a minute. “Or, at least, you used to be. The only one I remember, to date. And you know what they say about love and war and fair play.”

She looked up at him from her comfortable seat on the sofa bed. “Why do you hate him so?” she asked. “Surely not because your father left him those shares….”

He laughed unpleasantly, and his face hardened. For a minute, he resembled John in a bad mood. “John and I grew up together, did you know? He lived with us while his father was in the Marines. My whole life seemed to revolve around John and what he wanted. My father loved him. John could do no wrong and I could do no right. John stayed with us until I was sixteen—just long enough to cut me completely out of my father’s affection. I never measured up. Never!”

These were things she’d never known. John was usually tight-lipped about Donald and up until now Donald hadn’t been forthcoming, either.

“And I could have swallowed that, all of it, without choking, even the shares being willed to John,” Donald said surprisingly. “But when he married Ellen…”

She stared at him, finally understanding, watching his face change, soften, sadden. “You loved her,” she breathed.

“I worshipped her,” he corrected. “She was my girl, until John cut me out.”

“He cared about her….” she reminded him, recalling those rare times when John would talk about Ellen, and his life with her.

“He possessed her, totally. She couldn’t breathe until she checked with John to make sure it was okay. She had no life at all unless she was in his pocket,” he said bitterly. “And his life was the damned corporation. The nights she spent alone, the holidays he was out of town…!”

She got up to lay a gentle hand on his sleeve. “Donald, she always had the option of leaving him,” she reminded him quietly. “People, for the most part, live in prisons of their own making. You can’t put the responsibility for your happiness on someone else’s shoulders. You have to make your own.”

He sighed deeply. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” he asked with a short laugh. “She’s dead. And the living have to go on living, somehow. Needling John keeps me alive, you know. It gives me a reason to get up in the morning.”

“What a silly reason!” she burst out.

He actually flushed. “I beg your pardon?”

“The world wasn’t meant to be a morgue,” she said curtly. “Ellen is dead, but you’re still young and you have things to offer another woman. Why don’t you stop trying to climb into her grave, and live a little? Before it’s too late and you find yourself so caught up in your cruel game that you forget how to love?”

He stared down at her as if she’d hit him suddenly, his eyes blinking, glazed.

“Are you in love with John?” he asked gently.

She turned away. “He was my friend once,” she hedged. “I’m very tired, Donald. Good night.”

***

By the time the Annual Charity Ball rolled around two weeks later, Madeline’s life had once again settled into a routine of hard work. She would be grateful for a little diversion, she thought as she slipped into her clinging black gown with the huge red rose on its single shoulder strap.

She’d committed herself to the ball weeks ago—before she and John had had their falling-out—and since she was on the refreshment committee, she had to be there. Donald was tied up and couldn’t go, and she was tempted to make up an excuse herself. But with a sigh she gathered her purse and went out the door. Maybe John would be out of town or unable to attend the annual affair.

When she walked through the door of the huge civic center, however, the first person she saw was John Durango.

Her knees went rubbery and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out his name in anguish. He was wearing evening clothes, and looked so devastatingly handsome that her eyes clung to him.

He turned at that moment and looked toward her, his eyes taking in every soft curve of her body with a glitter in them that was obvious even at a distance.

She turned away, heading toward some other members of the sponsoring committee, and managed to enmesh herself in conversation before he could make a move in her direction. Not that he would have, she told herself. He’d said that it was over between them.

She managed to avoid him for most of the evening. She knew many of the people in attendance, and had partners aplenty for the graceful ballroom dances. It was a far cry from the disco, and she adored the sound of waltzes played by the live orchestra, the look of the exquisite dresses billowing as their wearers were twirled around.

It was almost midnight when Jack Rafter, a mutual friend of hers and John’s, caught her hand, saying, “There you are.” He dragged her over to where John was standing alone on the edge of the dance floor. “John, here’s Madeline. Since you’re free for this dance, and it’s the last one, I can’t think of a better partner for you. Go on, go on, I haven’t seen you two dance together even once all night!”

Madeline wanted to hit the little man over the head with her purse, but she couldn’t make a scene here, of all places. Besides, she knew he meant well.

“May I?” John asked with bitter politeness, taking her elbow to guide her onto the crowded dance floor.

The band was playing one of those lazy two-steps, a sweetly sentimental tune that made Madeline want to bolt and run. Why couldn’t it have been a nice bouncy tune?

“I’m very sorry that you got landed with me,” she said tautly, standing rigid as he drew her into the conventionally proper pose.

“You looked as if you’d have preferred running out the door,” he replied. “But that would never have done, would it? Making a scene, God forbid!”

She flushed uncomfortably, letting her eyes go no higher than his tanned throat, above his black tie. “I come from a long line of conventional people,” she reminded him.

“With the exception of your late Great-Aunt Jessie,” he murmured with a reluctant smile.

She smiled stiffly. “With that exception,” she murmured.

He drew in a long, harsh breath. His hand at her back spread against the silky material of the black dress. Unconsciously he drew her closer until she could feel his powerful thighs brushing against hers as they moved to the sensuous rhythm of the music.

His warm, strong hand made her tingle all over. The fingers holding her hand suddenly shifted, tangling with her fingers sensuously, easing between them in a tantalizingly slow rhythm.

His breath was coming hard now, like hers, and she felt it warm and smoky against her forehead.

“Relax against me,” he whispered unsteadily, “just for a minute. Let me feel…all of you…this once.”

She shouldn’t have done it, but she couldn’t resist him, not after the anguish she’d suffered in the weeks they’d been apart. She let her body ease against his, letting him take its full weight. His arms slid around her, supporting, clinging to every soft inch of her as his cheek slid against her temple, the mustache tickling a little when his lips touched her skin.

His fingers bit into her and she didn’t even murmur, so lost was she in the pleasure of contact. Her eyes closed and her arms reached up around his neck to hold him while the music drifted around them and his thighs slid sensuously against hers through the layers of clothing.

His arms contracted as they turned and she moaned softly at the hard contact with his body, the ache, the pulsing hunger it fostered. Her face nuzzled into his warm throat and she drank in the woodsy smell of his cologne. “John…” she whispered achingly.

“Closer?” he whispered. “Like this?” He shifted his arms, lowering them, pressing her body into intimate contact with his, and she felt a sudden tremor in his big arms.

She caught her breath, her face contorting in anguish as she clung. “Oh, don’t,” she whispered miserably, “please don’t, I can’t…bear it!”

“You still want me,” he growled. “I can feel it.”

“No!” She drew away from him, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she looked up into his fiery eyes. “It’s all over, you said so.” A single tear escaped from her eye and rolled down her flushed cheek as she remembered. “You said…you didn’t want me anymore.”

She jerked away from him, turning to walk quickly off the dance floor. He caught up with her as she made it to the door and started out into the night, his arm sliding around her smoothly to draw her into the shadows near one of the tall pillars at the front entrance.

“Not yet, you don’t,” he growled, holding her against him. “You’re driving me out of my mind!”

“Wrong girl,” she pointed out, wiping angrily at the tears. “Haven’t you forgotten your little blond friend?”

He drew an angry breath, shaking her gently. “Forget Melody!”

“But John, she’s so sweet, so willing, so
young!
” she reminded him, struggling against the crush of his body.

“Stop that,” he said in an odd, taut voice, catching her hips to hold her still.

She leaned her head back to see his strained, hard face. “What’s the matter, John, do I disturb you?” she laughed bitterly.

“My God, what a question,” he ground out. His eyes were frightening. He studied her face quietly for a long time. “Tell me what my cousin was doing in your room that night.”

She blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

He lifted his head, staring down at her. “I’m willing to listen to an explanation, if you have one.”

“Why, John, how generous of you!” she exclaimed. “What a pity that I’ve decided I don’t owe you one.”

His hands on her hips tightened. “You’re as hungry for me as I am for you,” he ground out, bending. “And you’ll tell me what I want to know…one way or another.”

His mouth crushed down against hers, and it was all of heaven. Try as she would, she couldn’t stand in his embrace and pretend to be calm. Her heart threatened to burst, her lungs seemed incapable of keeping up with the demand on them. Her nails bit into the fine cloth of his jacket, her mouth opening to his, her body trembling, and a long, sweet moan came from her throat.