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it with a sensuality that made Donald gape at her. It wasn't long before she realized that
Donald wasn't the only one gaping at her soft curves in their deliciously provocative cover.
She danced and laughed and gave the performance of her life, while inside her something
fragile and budding withered like an iced-over blossom.
A few minutes later, Melody left John to go to the ladies' room, and Donald chose that
moment to go to the bar for drinks, leaving John and Madeline together as they started
back through the crowd toward their respective seats.
"It won't work," he said.
"What won't?" she asked in all innocence.
"Following me around trying to explain," he said with the old, familiar arrogance. Tall,
broad, sensuous, he made her want to throw herself into his arms....
"I'm not following you," she said tightly.
"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 sar-
casm, 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,
ul-trapolite 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 Mel-
ody 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 [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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