An Independent Wife (8 page)

"I thought you'd back down and call me. I was fed up with your nagging and determined to teach you a lesson," he said, raising his head and looking down into her astounded face. "But you didn't call, and I had my career to see to and time got away from me. Seven years is a long time to be separated, but we've both matured in that length of time, and I intend to pull on that leash you still have around your neck, sweetheart! "

"Don't be silly!" she said, shaking her head to deny his casual assumption that she had no choice in the matter, that she would tamely let him lead her about. He had a lot to learn about her! "It wouldn't work out, Rhy. We're two different people now. I'm no longer content to putter around a house. There are so many things I want to do that I may never get around to them all. I have to be on the move."

"I'll be traveling quite a bit with the documentaries I've signed to do. You could always quit your job and travel with me," he pointed out, and she recoiled from that suggestion as if he had thrown a snake at her.

"Give up my job?" she echoed, aghast. "Rhy, are you crazy? I don't want to spend my life tagging after you! This isn't just a job to me, it's my career, too. If you want us to be together so badly you quit your job." She drew her mouth into a hard line and glared her challenge at him.

"I make more than you do," he drawled. "It would be stupid for me to quit. Besides, I own this magazine."

"The entire idea of us trying to live together is stupid," she blasted him. "Why not just obtain a quiet divorce? You won't have to worry that I'll ask for alimony, I like supporting myself-"

"No," he interrupted, his jaw hardening as temper began to flicker in his eyes. "No divorce, under any circumstances."

"All right, maybe you can make it difficult for me to get a divorce," she acknowledged. "But I don't have to live with you and I don't have to work for you. There are other magazines, newspapers and wire services, and I'm good at my job. I don't need you or your magazine."

"Don't you? Like I've told you before, I have a lot of friends and if I put the word out that I don't want you working, believe me, you won't be reporting. Maybe you could get a job in a restaurant or driving a cab, but that'll be it, and I can stop that too if I want," His eyes narrowed on her and a grin split his dark face. "And in the meantime, you're still my wife, and I intend to treat you as such."

The threat was implicit in his words and she sucked in her breath. Alarm rioted along her nerves as she realized that he intended to resume his marital rights. "I'll get a court order forcing you to stay away from me! " she ground out, too angry now to back down even though she knew that, if dared, Rhy would go to any lengths to get what he wanted.

"A court order might be difficult to obtain if the right pressure is brought to bear," he mocked, enjoying his power over her. "And after a little while you just might decide that you like having me around, you did before. If I remember correctly, and I do, that was the basis of all your complaints, that I was never there. Let's try the whole bit again, hmm?" he murmured cajolingly. "And you wanted kids. We'll have kids, all you want. As a matter of fact, I'm willing to start on that project right now."

Sallie ground her teeth in rage, more upset than he could know by his reference to having children. The beast! "I've had a baby, thank you!" she choked, lashing out in her raging need to hurt him as she'd been hum as she still hurt. "And if I remember correctly, Mr. Baines, you didn't want him! I carried him alone, and I had him alone and I buried him alone! I don't need you or anything about you!"

"I don't care whether or not you need me," he said, his mouth tightening into a grim line at her reckless words. "I can make you want me, and that's all that matters. You can spit fire at me all you want, but you and I both know that if I want you I can have you. Make up your mind to it, you're mine and I'm not about to let you go. I'm ready to settle down now, for real this time. You're my wife, and I wouldn't mind a couple of kids before we're too old."

She strangled on the hot words that bubbled in her throat and jerked away from him. "No," she refused savagely. "No to everything. No to you and no to your kids. Let someone else have the honor! I'm sure Coral would be more than eager to take on the job, And since she's waiting for you now I won't keep you any longer!"

His roar of laughter followed her as she stormed out of his office and Amanda Meade stared at her with round eyes. Without a word Sallie slammed the door and stood in the hallway, shaking with temper. The most galling thing of all was that she was helpless. Rhy had the power to destroy the career she'd so carefully, lovingly created for herself and he'd do it without a moment's thought if he wanted her.

She returned to her desk and sank into her chair, trembling inside. Why was he doing this to her? He couldn't be serious---could he? The memory of his hot kisses returned vividly and blood surged into her cheeks. That hadn't changed! Was it just sex that he wanted from her, that and the challenge she now rePresented to his male ego? She had been his once and she might have guessed that he'd be unable to endure the thought that now she didn't want him.

The only thing was, she wasn't so certain now that she didn't want him. Making love with him was fantastic, and she'd never forgotten the heated magic of his caresses. For just a minute she sank into a delicious daydream of what it would be like to be his wife again, to live with him and sleep beside him and make love with him; then cold reality intruded. If she went back to him, then what? He'd already grounded her. He'd take her away from her job entirely, perhaps even get her pregnant again. Sallie thought longingly of a baby, but she knew Rhy well enough to think beyond that. She could see herself with a child and Rhy growing bored and restless as he had before, resentful that she'd become pregnant. He wouldn't be faithful; he wasn't now, so why should he be later?

He'd tire of her and she'd be both without a job and hampered by a baby. Top jobs in the reporting field were hard to come by and required more than dedication; they required a reporter's whole life. If she left the field she'd have a difficult time returning, carving another niche for herself, and if there was a baby, what would she do then?

The thought of what could happen if she returned to Rhy frightened her and she knew that if she had a choice she would take her job. It had never let her down as Rhy had. And she loved what she was doing. She knew just how precious her independence was, and she wasn't about to sacrifice it for physical gratification.

She couldn't think what to do. Her nature was to act, but in this situation there was nothing she could do. Rhy would block any effort she made to get another job unless she disappeared and took another name, moved to another section of the country. The thought shook her; it seemed so drastic, but even before her nerves had settled she was making plans. Why should a little thing like creating another identity stop her? Hadn't she learned that she could handle almost anything? She would hate to give up her job, this particular job, but she could find another if she had to. The important thing was to stay away from Rhy.

It was still a few minutes before lunchtime, but she jerked the cover over her typewriter and slung her purse over her shoulder. If she knew Rhy he would start maneuvering immediately to hem her in, and she had a lot of things to do to protect herself.

She caught a taxi to the bank where she kept her checking and savings accounts and closed both of them out. She didn't know if Rhy could block any withdrawals if she needed money in a hurry, but it seemed wise not to take the chance. Over the years she had managed to save several thousand dollars, enough that she would be able to support herself while she looked for another job, and she felt more secure with the cashier's check in her purse. Rhy would find that she was no longer a helpless little ninny for him to intimidate!

She was rarely hungry, but she'd burned a lot of calories that morning and her stomach was beginning to protest. On impulse she stopped at the bar and grill just around the comer from the World in Review building and found an empty booth in a dark corner.

It was like going into a cave until her eyes adjusted to the dimness, then she recognized several of the staff either sitting at the bar or tucking into lunch in one of the dark booths. She ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and coffee and was waiting for her food when Chris dropped his lanky form into the seat opposite her. It was the first time she'd seen him since he'd returned from Florida, and she noticed how tanned he looked, even in the dimness of the bar.

"Florida suits you," she commented. "How have you been?"

He shrugged, his quiet face wry. "I'm still at a standoff, if that's what you're asking. What about you, doll? I've heard a rumor that you've been grounded."

"It's true," Sallie admitted, frowning. "Orders from the top."

"Baines himself? What'd you do?"

"It's not what I did, it's what I am. He thinks foreign assignment is too dangerous for me."

Chris snorted in disbelief. "C'mon, Baines is too good a newsman to ground you for a stupid reason like that. Level with me, Sal. What's going on? I saw him staring at you that day in the cafeteria."

"Oh, it's true that he thinks foreign assignment is too dangerous for me," she insisted. "But that's only part of the reason. He thinks I'd be a nice addition to his personal scalp collection, if you get my meaning. Unfortunately, I don't agree."

Chris whistled soundlessly through his teeth. "Big boss is after you, eh? Well, I agree with him that you're a fetching little witch. The orily difference is, I never had the guts to tackle you."

Sallie exploded into laughter, knowing that while Chris might like her well enough he'd never been attracted to her romantically. Though he was the footloose type he was attracted to nesting women; he wanted someone who could provide a stable base for him when he returned from his wanderings.

Sallie was too much of a wanderer herself for Chris to be interested. He kept a straight face while she rocked with laughter, holding her sides, but his brown eyes danced with amusement.

Afterward they returned to work together, and as they entered the lobby Chris had his arm affectionately around her waist. The first person Sallie saw was Rhy, waiting for the elevator, and as he looked at them and saw Chris with his arm about her his eyes flared, then narrowed to furious slits.

"Uh-oh, trouble," Chris muttered to her, then gave her a grin. As the elevator opened and Rhy stepped in Chris compounded his sins by hugging her close and kissing the top of her head. In the last glimpse Sallie had of Rhy before the doors closed and hid him from view he looked murderous.

"You fool," Sallie whispered to Chris, torn between laughter and genuine concern. Rhy was a dangerous man when he was angry. He was strong enough and wild enough and mean enough to handle just about anyone he wanted to handle, and he'd taken a lot of specialized training. Underneath his perfectly tailored three-piece suits Rhy was a half-civilized commando and he could hurt Chris badly. "Are you trying to get yourself killed? Rhy has a hair-trigger temper!"

"I didn't want him to take you for granted," Chris explained lazily. He gave her a crooked grin. "Feel free to use me any time you need the safety of numbers, the least I can do is return the favors you've done me. I use you, you use me in return."

Sallie drew in her breath. The idea was tempting, to pretend to Rhy that she was wildly in love with Chris, except that she didn't think she could act well enough to make it convincing and she would hate to push Rhy far enough that he lost his temper and hurt Chris.

"Thanks for the offer, but I don't think it'd be very smart to act out our charades in front of him," she declined. "I like your face as it is. But if you don't mind I'll throw up your name as a smoke screen to hide behind."

"Okay by me." He regarded her seriously. "Why are you trying to get away from him? He's got everything a man---or a woman--could want."

"I knew Rhy before he bought the magazine," Sallie explained with caution, not wanting to tell him too much. "He wants to renew the relationship and I don't. It's that simple."

"Except for the feeling that you're leaving a lot untold, I believe you," Chris mused almost to himself and left her with a smile.

After returning to her desk Sallie waited all afternoon for a call summoning her to Rhy's office, but the call didn't materialize and she finally realized that he was more subtle than that. He'd let her worry about it, become anxious and vulnerable. She'd show him!

With a flourish she pushed aside the article she'd been working on and rolled a clean sheet of paper into the typewriter. If Rhy wanted to play dirty, then she had no scruples about not doing her work.

Instead of concentrating on that stupid article she'd begin her memoirs! If she wrote her life story down as it happened, when she got old it would be finished and she wouldn't have to try to remember all of the details!

Adrenalin flowed through her veins and her fingers flew over the typewriter keys. For the first time in weeks words spitted out of her brain and she scarcely paused to get them in order. She felt elated, alive again. Enthusiasm pulsed through her body.

Suddenly she dropped her hands, staring at what she'd written. Why play around with her memoirs?

Why not take her own experiences and weave them into a novel? She'd always wanted to write a book but she'd never had the time. Now she had the time, and she wanted to laugh aloud at the thought of using Rhy's time and money to begin a new career for herself.

Feverishly she put a fresh page in the typewriter, then sat for several minutes, stumped by her first problem-what name should she use for her heroine? Could she just leave a blank space and insert the name later? Then she realized that she had to have a name before she could visualize her character, and that thought led her to ponder the physical attributes of her creation. Writing a book was different from writing an article of an eyewitness report. Then she had facts to deal with, but with fiction she had to create the details herself. Except for that first creative writing course she was trained in facts and this was harder than she'd imagined.