Strange Bedfellow (10 page)

“I'll have the same.”
 

It was late that evening before Chet left. Each dragging minute in the interim honed Dina's nerves to a razor-thin edge. By the time he had left, she could no longer stand the suspense of waiting for the confrontation with Blake.
 

With the revving of Chet's car coming from the driveway, Dina paused in the foyer to challenge Blake. “Aren't you going to say it?”
 

He didn't pretend an ignorance of her question, his gaze hard and unrelenting. “Stay away from Chet.”
 

All the blame for the innocent encounter was placed on her, and she reacted with indignant outrage. “And what about Chet?”
 

“I know Chet well enough to be assured he isn't going to trespass, unless encouraged, on my territory.”
 

“So I'm supposed to avoid him, is that it?” she flashed.
 

“Whatever relationship you had with him in my absence is finished,” Blake declared in a frigid tone. “From now on he's simply an acquaintance of mine. That's all he is to you.”
 

“That's impossible!” She derided his suggestion that she could dismiss Chet from her life with a snap of her fingers. “I can't forget all he's meant to me that easily.”
 

A pair of iron clamps dug into the soft flesh of her arms and she was jerked to him, the breath knocked out of her by the hard contact with the solid wall of his chest. Her lips were crushed by the angry fire of his kiss, a kiss that seared his brand of possession on her and burned away any memory of another's mouth.
 

Dina was released from his punishing embrace with equal force. Shaken and unnerved, she retreated a step. With the back of her hand she tried to rub away the fiery imprint of his mouth.
 

“You—” she began with impotent rage.
 

“Don't push me, Dina!” Blake warned.
 

They glared at each other in thundering silence. Dina had no idea how long the battle of wills would have continued if his mother hadn't entered the foyer seconds later. Each donned a mask to conceal their personal conflict from her eyes.
 

“Deirdre just told me you'd asked her to bring some blankets to the library, Blake.” Norma Chandler was wearing a frown. “You aren't going to sleep there again tonight, are you?”
 

“Yes, I am, mother,” he responded decisively.
 

“But it's so uncivilized,” she protested.
 

“Perhaps,” Blake conceded, for an instant meeting Dina's look. “It's also infinitely preferable to not sleeping.”
 

“I suppose so.” His mother sighed her reluctant agreement. “Good night, dear.”
 

“Good night, mother,” he returned, and coldly arched an eyebrow at Dina. “Good night.”
 

Chapter Five

THE LIBRARY DOOR stood open when Dina came down the stairs the next morning. She smoothed a nervous hand over her cream linen skirt and walked to the dining room where breakfast coffee and juice were already on the table. But there was no sign of Blake. Dina helped herself to juice and coffee and sat down.
 

“Isn't Blake having breakfast this morning?” she questioned the housekeeper when she appeared.
 

“No, ma'am,” Deirdre replied. “He's already left. He said he was meeting Jake Stone for breakfast and going to the office from there. Didn't he tell you?”
 

“Yes, I believe he did,” Dina lied, and forced a smile. “I must have forgotten.”
 

“Mrs. Chandler was most upset about it,” the woman remarked with a knowing nod.
 

Dina frowned. “Because Blake, is meeting the attorney?”
 

“No, because he's going into the office. Mrs. Chandler thought he should wait a few days. I mean, he just came back and all, and right away he's going to work,” Deirdre explained.
 

“He's probably anxious to see how everything is.” There was a smug feeling of satisfaction that he would find the entire operation running smoothly knowing that a great deal of the credit was hers.
 

“What will you have this morning, Mrs. Blake? Shall I fix you an omelet?”
 

“I think I'll just have juice and coffee, Deirdre, thank you.” She wanted to be at the office when Blake arrived to be able to see his face when he realized how capably she had managed in his absence.
 

“As you wish,” the housekeeper sniffed in disapproval.
 

The morning traffic seemed heavier than usual and Dina chafed at the delay it caused. Still she arrived at the office building well within her usual time. As she stepped out of the elevator onto the floor the company occupied, she was relieved that Chet had already notified the various executive personnel of Blake's return and that she was spared that task. She would have time to go over her notes on the departmental meeting this afternoon and have much of the Monday morning routine handled before Blake arrived.
 

She breezed down the corridor to her office, keeping her pace brisk while she nodded greetings and returned good mornings to the various employees along the way. She didn't want to stop and chat with anyone and use up her precious time. She felt very buoyant as she entered the office of her private secretary.
 

“Good morning, Amy,” she said cheerfully.
 

“Good morning, Mrs. Chandler.” The young woman beamed back a smile. “You're in good spirits this morning.”
 

“Yes, I am,” Dina agreed. Her secretary was going through the morning mail and she walked to her desk to see if there was anything of importance she should know about before Blake arrived.
 

“Your good spirits wouldn't have anything to do with Mr. Chandler's coming back, would they?” Amy Wentworth inquired with a knowing twinkle. Dina wasn't obliged to make a comment as her secretary continued, “All of us here are so happy he's back safely.”
 

“So am I, Amy,” Dina nodded, and glanced over the girl's shoulder for a glimpse at the mail. “Anything special in the mail this morning?”
 

“Not so far,” her secretary replied, returning her attention to the stack of letters.”
 

Any calls?”
 

“Only one. Mr. Van Patten called.”
 

“Did he leave a message?” Dina asked, her quick perusal of the mail completed.
 

“Oh, no,” Amy hastened to explain. “Mr. Chandler took the call.”
 

“Mr. Chandler?” she repeated. “Do you mean Blake is already here?”
 

“Yes, he's in the office.” Amy motioned towards Dina's private office. “I'm sure he won't mind if you go right on in, Mrs. Chandler.”
 

For several seconds Dina was too stunned to speak. It was
her
office, her pride protested. And
her
secretary was grandly giving her permission to enter it. Blake had moved in and managed to convey the impression that she had moved out.
 

Her blue eyes darkened with rage. Turning on her heel, she walked to the private office. She didn't bother to knock, simply pushing the door open and walking in. Blake was seated behind the massive walnut desk—
her
desk! He glanced up when she entered. The arrogantly inquiring lift of his eyebrow lit the fuse of her temper.
 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
 

“I was about to ask you the same question,” countered Blake with infuriating calm.
 

“It happens to be
my
office and that's
my
secretary outside!” Dina retorted. Her flashing eyes saw the papers in his hands and she recognized the notes as those she had been going to go over for the departmental meeting that afternoon. “And those are
my
notes!”
 

He leaned back in the swivel chair, viewing her tirade with little emotion. “I was under the impression that all of this—” he waved his hand in an encompassing gesture “—belonged to the company.”
 

“I happen to be in charge of the company,” she reminded him.
 

“You
were
in charge of the company,” Blake corrected her. “I'm taking over now.”
 

She was trembling violently now, her anger almost uncontrollable. She fought to keep her voice low and not reveal how thoroughly he had aroused her.
 

“You're taking over,” she repeated. “Just like that!” She snapped her fingers.
 

“Your job is done.” Blake shrugged and fingered the papers on the desk. “And excellently, from all that I've seen this morning.”
 

It was the compliment she had sought, but not delivered the way she had intended it to be. Therefore it brought no satisfaction; the thunder was stolen from her glory.
 

“And what am I supposed to do?” she demanded.
 

“Go home. Go back to being my wife.” His sun-roughened features wore a frown, as if not understanding why she was so upset.
 

“And do what?” challenged Dina. “Twiddle my thumbs all day until you come home? Deirdre does all the cooking and the cleaning. It's your mother's house, Blake. There's nothing for me to do there.”
 

“Then start looking for an apartment for us. Or better yet, a house of our own,” he suggested. “That's what you wanted before, a place of our own that you could decorate the way you wanted it.”
 

A part of her wanted it still, but it wasn't the motivating force in her life. “That was before, Blake,” she argued. “I've changed. If we did have a house and the decorating was all done the way I wanted it, what would I do then? Sit around and admire my handiwork? No, I enjoy my work here. It's demanding and fulfilling.”
 

He was sitting in the chair, watching her with narrowed eyes. “What you're saying is you enjoy the power that goes along with it.”
 

“I enjoy the power,” Dina admitted without hesitation, a hint of defiance in the tightness of her voice. “I enjoy the challenge and the responsibility, too. Men don't have a monopoly on those feelings.”
 

“What are you suggesting, Dina? That we reverse our roles and I become the house husband? That I find the house, do all the decorating, cleaning and entertaining?”
 

“No, I'm not suggesting that.” Confusion was tearing at her. She didn't know what the solution was.
 

“Perhaps you'd like me to take another flight to South America and this time not bother to come back?”
 

“No, I wouldn't—and stop twisting my words!”
 

Hot tears flooded her eyes, all the emotional turmoil inside her becoming too much to control. She turned sharply away, blinking frantically at the tears, trying to force them back before Blake saw them.
 

There was a warning squeak of the swivel chair as Blake rose and approached her. Her lungs were bursting, but she was afraid to take a breath for fear it would sound like a sob.
 

“Is this the way you handle a business disagreement?” he lashed out in impatient accusation.
 

Aware that he towered beside her, Dina kept her face averted so he wouldn't see the watery blue of her eyes. “I don't know what you mean,” she lied.
 

His thumb and fingers clamped on her chin and twisted it around so he could see her face. “Do you usually indulge in a female display of tears when you don't get your own way?”
 

The wall of tears was so solid that Dina could barely see his face. “No,” she retorted pushing at the hand that held her chin. “Do you always attack on a personal level whenever someone doesn't agree with you wholeheartedly?”
 

She heard his long impatient sigh, then his fingers curved to the back of her neck, forcing her head against his chest. An arm encircled her to draw her close. His embrace was strong and warm, but Dina made herself remain indifferent to Blake's attempt to comfort her. She felt the pressure of his chin resting atop her head.
 

“Would you mind telling me what the hell I'm supposed to do about this?” Blake muttered.
 

She wiped at the tears with shaking fingers and sniffed, “I don't know.”
 

“Here.” He reached inside his suit jacket to hand her his handkerchief. There was a light rap on the door and Blake stiffened. “Who is it?” he snapped, but the door was already opening.
 

Self-consciously Dina tried to twist out of his arms, but they tightened around her as if closing ranks to protect her. She submitted to their hold, her back to the door.
 

“Sorry,” she heard Chet apologize with a trace of chagrin. “I guess I've gotten used to walking in unannounced.”