Strange Bedfellow (12 page)

Which meant that Blake must be in his office. Dina wasn't certain how she knew it was Blake and not someone else, but she was positive of it.
 

“Chet, I have to talk to you. I have to see you,” she declared in a burst of despair. Glancing at her wristwatch, she didn't give him a chance to reply. “Can you meet me for lunch?”
 

She heard the deep breath he took before he answered, “I'm sorry, I'm afraid I've already made plans for lunch.”
 

“I have to see you,” she repeated. “What about later?”
 

“It's been a long time since I've seen you.” Chet began to enter into the spirit of the thing, however uncertainly. “Why don't we get together for a drink? Say, around five-thirty?”
 

It was so long to wait, she thought desperately, but realized it was the best he could offer. “Very well,” she agreed, and named the first cocktail lounge that came to mind.
 

“I'll meet you there,” Chet promised.
 

“And, Chet—” Dina hesitated “—please don't say anything to Blake about meeting me. I don't want him to know. He wouldn't understand?”
 

There was a long pause before he finally said, “No, I won't. See you then.”
 

After hanging up the receiver, Dina turned and saw the gas station attendant eyeing her curiously, yet with a measure of concern. She opened the pocketbook slung over her shoulder and started to pay for the gasoline.
 

“Are you all right, miss?” he questioned.
 

She glimpsed her faded reflection in the large plate-glass window of the station and understood his reason for asking. Her hair was windblown, and in riotous disorder. Tears had streaked the mascara from her lashes to make smutty lines around her eyes. She looked like a lost and wayward urchin despite the expensive clothes she wore.
 

“I'm fine,” she lied.
 

In the car, she took a tissue from her bag and wiped the dark smudges from beneath her eyes. A brush put her tangled mass of silky gold hair into a semblance of order before it was covered by the scarf she had discarded.
 

“You have to get hold of yourself,” she scolded her reflection in the rearview mirror.
 

Turning the key in the ignition, she started the powerful motor of the little car and drove away, wondering what she was going to do with herself for the rest of the day.
 

Chapter Six

TYPICALLY, THE LOUNGE was dimly lit. Overhead lighting was practically nonexistent and the miniature mock lanterns with their small candle flames flickering inside the glass chimneys provided little more. The dark wood paneling of the walls offered no relief, nor did the heavily beamed low ceiling.
 

Tucked away in an obscure corner of the lounge, Dina had a total view of the room and the entrance door. A drink was in front of her, untouched, the ice melting. Five more minutes, her watch indicated, but it already seemed an interminable wait.
 

An hour earlier she had phoned Mother Chandler to tell her she would be late without explaining why or where she was. Blake would be angry, she realized.
Let him
, was her inward response. The consequences of her meeting with Chet she would think about later.
 

Brilliant sunlight flashed into the room as the door was opened. Dina glanced up, holding her breath and hoping that this time it might be Chet. But a glimpse of the tall figure that entered the lounge paralyzed her lungs. Her heart stopped beating, then skyrocketed in alarm.
 

Just inside the lounge, Blake paused, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom. There was nowhere Dina could run without drawing his attention. She tried to make herself small, hoping he wouldn't see her in this dim corner of the room. Dina felt rather than saw his gaze fasten on her seconds before his purposeful strides carried him to her table.
 

When he stopped beside her, Dina couldn't look up. Her teeth were so tightly clenched they hurt. She curled her hands around the drink she hadn't touched since it had been set before her. Despite the simmering resentment she felt, there was a sense of inevitability, too. Blake didn't speak, waiting for Dina to acknowledge him first.
 

“Imagine meeting you here,” she offered in a bitter tone of mock surprise, not letting her gaze lift from the glass cupped in her hands. “Small world, isn't it?”
 

“It's quite a coincidence,” he agreed.
 

There was a bright glitter in her blue eyes when she finally looked at him. His craggy features were in the shadows, making his expression impossible to see. The disturbing male vitality of his presence began to make itself felt despite her attempt to ignore it.
 

“How did you know I was here?” she demanded, knowing there was only one answer he could give.
 

And Blake gave it. “Chet told me.”
 

“Why?” The broken word came out unknowingly, directed at the absent friend who had betrayed her trust.
 

“Because I asked him.”
 

“He promised he wouldn't tell you!” Her voice was choked, overcome by the discovery that she was lost and completely alone in her confusion.
 

“So I gathered,” Blake offered dryly.
 

Dina averted her gaze to breathe shakily. “Why did he have to tell you?”
 

“I am your husband, Dina, despite the way you try to forget it. That gives me the right to at least know where you are.”
 

His voice was as smooth as polished steel, outwardly calm and firm. Her gaze noticed his large hands clenched into fists at his side, revealing the control he was exercising over his anger. He was filled with a white rage that his wife should arrange to meet another man. Dina was frightened, but it was fear that prompted the bravado to challenge him.
 

“You were in Chet's office when I called, weren't you?” she said accusingly.
 

“Yes, and I could tell by the guilty look on his face that he was talking to you. After that, it didn't take much to find out what was going on.”
 

“Who did you think I would turn to? I needed him.” Dina changed it to present tense. “I need Chet.”
 

Like the sudden uncoiling of a spring, Blake leaned down, spreading his hands across the tabletop, arms rigid. In the flickering candlelight his features resembled a carved teakwood mask of some pagan god, harsh and ruthless and dangerously compelling.
 

“When are you going to get it through that blind little brain of yours that you've never needed him?” he demanded.
 

Her heart was pounding out a message of fear. “I don't know you,” she breathed in panic. “You're a stranger. You frighten me, Blake.”
 

“That makes two of us, because I'm scared as hell of myself!” He straightened abruptly, issuing an impatient, “Let's get out of here before I do something I'll regret.”
 

Throwing caution away, Dina protested, “I don't want to go anywhere with you.”
 

“I'm aware of that!” His hand clamped a hold on her arm to haul her to her feet, overpowering her weak resistance. Once she was upright, his fingers remained clamped around her arm to keep her pressed to his side. “Is the drink paid for?” Blake reminded her of the untouched contents of the glass on the table.
 

As always when she came in physical contact with him, she seemed to lose the ability to think coherently. His muscular body was like living steel and the softness of her shape had to yield. Everything was suddenly reduced to an elemental level. Not until Blake had put the question to her a second time did Dina take in what he had asked.
 

She managed a trembling, “No, it isn't.”
 

Releasing her, Blake took a money clip from his pocket and peeled off a bill, tossing it on the table. Then the steel band of his arm circled her waist to guide her out of the lounge, oblivious to the curious stares.
 

In towering silence he walked her to the white Porsche, its top still down. He opened the door and pushed her behind the wheel. Then, slamming the door shut, he leaned on the frame, an unrelenting grimness to his mouth.
 

“My car is going to be glued to your bumper, following you every inch of the way. So don't take any detours on the route home, Dina,” he warned.
 

Before Dina could make any kind of retort, he walked to his car parked in the next row of the lot. Starting the car, she gunned the motor as if she were accelerating for a race, a puny gesture of impotent defiance.
 

True to his word, his car was a large shadow behind hers every block of the way, an ominous presence she couldn't shake even if she had tried—which she didn't. Stopping in the driveway of his mother's house—their house—Dina hurried from her car, anxious to get inside where the other inhabitants could offer her a degree of safety from him.
 

Halfway to the door Blake caught up with her, a hand firmly clasping her elbow to slow her down.
 

“This little episode isn't over yet,” he stated in an undertone. “We'll talk about it later.”
 

Dina swallowed the impulse to challenge him. It was better to keep silent with safety so near. Together they entered the house, both concealing the state of war between them.
 

Mother Chandler appeared in the living-room doorway, wearing an attractive black chiffon dress. Her elegantly coiffed silver hair was freshly styled, thanks to an afternoon's appointment at her favorite salon. She smiled brightly at the pair of them, unaware of the tension crackling between them.
 

“You're both home—how wonderful!” she exclaimed, assuming her cultured tone. “I was about to suggest to Deirdre that perhaps she should delay dinner for an hour. I'm so glad it won't be necessary. I know how much you detest overcooked meat, Blake.”
 

“You always did like your beef very rare, didn't you, Blake?” Dina followed up on the comment, her gaze glittering at his face with diamond sharpness. “I have always considered your desire for raw flesh as a barbaric tendency.”
 

“It seems you were right, doesn't it?” he countered.
 

Mother Chandler seemed impervious to the barbed exchange as she waved them imperiously into the living room. “Come along. Let's have a sherry and you can tell me about your first day back at the office, Blake.” She rattled on, covering their tight-lipped silence.
 

IT WAS AN ORDEAL getting through dinner and making the necessary small talk to hide the fact that there was anything wrong. It was even worse after dinner when the three of them sat around with their coffee in the living room. Each tick of the clock was like the swing of a pendulum, bringing nearer the moment when Blake's threatened discussion would take place.
 

The telephone rang and the housekeeper answered it in the other room. She appeared in the living room seconds later to announce, “It's for you, Mr. Blake. A Mr. Carl Landstrom.”
 

“I'll take it in the library, Deirdre,” he responded.
 

Dina waited several seconds after the library door had closed before turning to Mother Chandler. “It's a business call.” Carl Landstrom was head of the accounting department and Dina knew that his innate courtesy would not allow him to call after office hours unless it was something important. “Blake is probably going to be on the phone for a while,” she explained, a fact she was going to use to make her escape and avoid his private talk. “Would you explain to him that I'm very tired and have gone on to bed?”
 

“Of course, dear.” The older woman smiled, then sighed with rich contentment. “It's good to have him back, isn't it?”
 

It was a rhetorical question, and Dina didn't offer a reply as she bent to kiss the relatively smooth check of her mother-in-law. “Good night, Mother Chandler.”
 

“Good night.”
 

Upstairs, Dina undressed and took a quick shower. Toweling herself dry, she wrapped the terry cloth robe around her and removed the shower cap from her head, shaking her hair loose. She wanted to be in bed with the lights off before Blake was off the telephone. With luck he wouldn't bother to disturb her. She knew she was merely postponing the discussion, but for the moment that was enough.
 

Her nightgown was lying neatly at the foot of the as she entered the bedroom that adjoined the private bath, her hairbrush in hand. A few brisk strokes to unsnarl the damp curls at the ends of her hair was all that she needed to do for the night, she decided, and sat on the edge of the bed to do it.
 

The mattress didn't give beneath her weight. It seemed as solid as the seat of a wooden chair. Dina was motionless as she assembled the knowledge and realized that the new mattress and box springs she had ordered for Blake had arrived and hers had been removed.