Strange Bedfellow (16 page)

“Then you do admit to having an image,” he taunted her coldly.
 

It was no use. She simply couldn't concentrate on what she was doing. It took all of her attention to engage in this battle of words with him. Removing her glasses, she slipped them into their leather case. Dina set her notes aside and cleared the top of her desk.
 

“You haven't answered my question,” Blake prompted in a dangerously quiet voice when she rose to get her coat.
 

“I hadn't realized your comment was a question.” She took her purse from the lower desk drawer, unconsciously letting it slam shut to vent some of her tightly controlled anger.
 

“Is that how you see yourself, Dina, as a career woman whose life is centered around her work, with no time for a husband?” This time Blake phrased it as a question. The office was so small that when he stood up, he was blocking her path.
 

“That is hardly true.” She faced him, her nerves quivering with his closeness.
 

“No?” An eyebrow lifted in challenging disbelief.
 

“Have you forgotten?” It was bravado that mocked him. “I was going to marry Chet, so I must have felt there was room for a husband in my life.”
 

“I am your husband,” Blake stated.
 

“I don't know you.” Dina looked anywhere but into those inscrutable dark eyes.
 

“You knew me well enough this morning, in the most intimate sense of the word that a wife can ‘know’ her husband,” Blake reminded her deliberately.
 

“This morning was a mistake.” She brushed past him to escape into the hallway, but he caught her arm to half turn her around.
 

“Why was it a mistake?” he demanded.
 

“Because I let myself listen to all your talk about long, lonely nights and I started feeling sorry for you, that's why,” Dina lied angrily, because she was still confused by her willingness to let him make love to her this morning when he still remained so much of a stranger to her in many ways.
 

His mouth thinned into a cruel line, all savage and proud. “Compassion is the last thing I want from you!” he snarled.
 

“Then stop asking me to pick up the threads of our life. The pattern has changed. I don't know you. The Blake Chandler that spent two and a half years in a jungle is a stranger to me. You may have had to live like an animal, but don't ask me to become your mate. I am more than just an object to satisfy your lust.” The words streamed out, flooding over each other in their rush to escape. With each one, his features grew harder and harder until there was nothing gentle or warm left in them.
 

Blake gave her a push towards the door. “Let's go before you goad me into proving that you're right,” he snapped.
 

Aware that she had nearly wakened a sleeping tiger whose appetites were ravenous, Dina quietly obeyed him. All during the ride back to his mother's house she kept silent, not doing anything to draw attention to herself. Blake ignored her, not a single glance straying to her. The cold war had briefly exploded into a heated battle, but once again the atmosphere was frigid.
 

Within minutes of entering the house, Blake disappeared into the library. Dina found herself alone in the living room with her mother-in-law, listening to the latest gossip Norma Chandler had picked up at the afternoon's meeting of the garden club.
 

“Of course, everyone was buzzing with the news about Blake,” the woman concluded with a beaming smile. “They wanted to know every single detail of his adventure in the jungle. I thought they were never going to let me leave. Finally I had to insist that I come home to be here when you and Blake arrived.”
 

Dina was certain that Norma Chandler had been the center of attention. No doubt, the woman had reveled in it, even if the spotlight had been a reflection of her son's.
 

“It was a thoughtful gesture to be waiting at the door when Blake came home from the office,” she murmured, knowing some appreciation should be expressed. It was expected.
 

“I only wish he had waited a few more days before returning to the office,” sighed Norma Chandler. “After all he's been through, he was entitled to rest for a few days.”
 

Unspoken was the fact that it would have given her a chance to dote on him, coddle him like a little boy again. But the chance had been denied her and Norma Chandler was protesting. Dina wasn't sure if she was being blamed for Blake's decision to return to work so quickly. In case she was, she decided to set the record straight.
 

“It wasn't my idea that he had to come back right away. Blake has some bold, new plans for the company. I think he was eager to get back to work so he could put them into operation,” Dina explained.
 

“I am sure you are right, but he isn't giving us much time to enjoy the fact that he is back. There I go,” Norma Chandler scolded herself. “I'm complaining when I should be counting my blessings. It's just that I can't help wondering how much longer I'll have him.”
 

“That's a peculiar thing to say,” Dina frowned.
 

“You will probably be moving out soon—into a place of your own, won't you? Then I'll only be able to see him on weekends,” she pointed out.
 

“We have discussed the possibility of getting a place of our own,” Dina admitted, choosing her words carefully as she recalled their argument the previous morning. “But I don't think it will happen in the near future. We both will probably be too busy to do much looking. Naturally we don't want to move into just any place,” she lied.
 

It wasn't that Dina had become so career-oriented that she didn't long for a home of her own as she had led Blake to believe. At the moment, she was relieved to live in the Chandler home where his mother and the housekeeper could serve as buffers. She wasn't ready yet to share a home solely with the stranger who was her husband. Maybe she never would be.
 

“I won't pretend that I'm not glad to hear you say that.” Her mother-in-law smiled broadly at the statement. “You know how much I have enjoyed having you live here, Dina. Now that Blake is back, my happiness has been doubled. There is something about having a man around the house that makes it seem more like a home.”
 

“Yes,” Dina agreed, if not wholeheartedly.
 

“I don't like to pry.” There was a hesitancy in the woman's voice and expression. “But I have the feeling that there is a bit of tension between you and Blake. If I am wrong, you just say so or tell me to mind my own business. I don't want to become an interfering mother-in-law, but—” Her voice trailed off in the expectancy of a response from Dina.
 

It was Dina's turn to hesitate. She doubted if Mother Chandler would understand, but she felt a need to confide her fears in someone.
 

“There is a tension between us,” she admitted cautiously. “It's just that Blake has changed. And I have changed. We aren't the same people we were two and a half years ago.”
 

“It's Chet, isn't it?” Norma Chandler drew her own conclusions, hardly listening to what Dina had said. “I know that Blake behaved in front of the others as if he understood and forgave, but it bothered him, didn't it?”
 

“To a certain extent, yes.” But not to the degree that her mother-in-law was implying.
 

“It is only natural that he'd be upset to find his wife engaged to his best friend, but he'll come around. In a few years, you'll be laughing about it.”
 

“Probably,” Dina nodded, but she couldn't help wondering if they would be together in a few years. For that matter, she wondered if they would be together in a few months.
 

The housekeeper entered the living room. “Dinner is ready whenever you wish,” she announced.
 

“Now is fine, Deirdre,” Norma Chandler stated. “Blake is in the library. Would you please tell him?”
 

Dinner that evening was an awkward meal, one that was made more awkward because Norma Chandler seemed determined to convince Blake how very properly Dina had behaved during his absence. Dina knew it was an outgrowth of their conversation and there was simply no way she could intervene. Blake seemed indifferent to the praise his mother heaped on Dina, which only prompted Norma Chandler to pile more on.
 

It was a relief to escape to the privacy of the bedroom after coffee had been served. The tension of the day and the evening had tightened her muscles into taut bands. The sight of the bed and the thought of sleeping beside Blake another night increased the tension. She was the captive of a crazy confusion, torn between dreading the idea of Blake making love to her again and looking forward to the possibility.
 

Dina walked from the bedroom into the private bath that adjoined it. She filled the porcelain tub with hot water and added a liberal amount of scented bubble bath. From her bedroom closet, she brought her robe and hung it on a door hook. Shedding her clothes, Dina stepped into the tub and submerged herself up to her neck in the steamy mound of bubbles.
 

Lying back in the tub, she let the warm water soak away the tension, and slowly relaxed in the soothing bath. The lavender fragrance of the bubbles wafted through the air, a balm to her senses. The water cooled and Dina added more hot, losing track of time in her watery cocoon.
 

The bedroom door opened and closed. Dina heard it, but she wasn't unduly concerned that Blake had come to the room. The bathroom door was closed. She expected him to respect the desire for privacy it implied.
 

When the bathroom door was opened anyway, Dina sat up straight in a burst of indignation. The sound of sloshing water drew Blake's gaze. Minus his suit jacket and tie, he had unbuttoned the front of his shirt down to his stomach, exposing a disturbing amount of hard muscled flesh and dark chest hairs.
 

“Sorry, I didn't know you were in here,” he apologized insincerely.
 

The bubbles had been slowly dissipating during her long soak. Only a few bits of foam remained around the uplifting curve of her breasts. The fact did not escape Blake's attention. It kept him from leaving.
 

Self-consciously Dina grabbed for a handcloth, holding it in front of her. “Now that you've discovered I'm in here, get out.”
 

“I thought you might want me to wash your back, or wouldn't you consider that civilized behavior?” Blake mocked.
 

“I don't need my back washed, thank you.” Dina wasn't sure why she had bothered with the washcloth. It was becoming wet and very clingy. “Please leave,” she requested stiffly. “I'm finished with my bath and I'd like to get out of the tub.”
 

“I'm not stopping you. The sooner you are out, the sooner I can take my shower.” Blake turned and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.
 

Not trusting him, Dina quickly rinsed away the bubbles that were drying on her skin and stepped out of the tub. After rubbing herself down with the towel, she slipped into her robe and zipped it to the throat. Another few minutes were spent tidying the bathroom.
 

When she entered the bedroom, her senses were heightened to a fever pitch. Blake was sitting on the love seat, smoking a cigarette, his posture seemingly indolent. His hooded gaze swept over her.
 

“It's all yours.” Dina waived a hand toward the bathroom.
 

Blake stubbed out his cigarette and uncoiled his length from the love seat. “Thank you.” His response was cool and tauntingly lacking in gratitude.
 

Dina suppressed a shudder at his freezing politeness and wondered whether their heated exchanges were preferable to this. As he crossed the room, she walked to the closet. At the door, she stopped to glance at him.
 

It suddenly became imperative that she make him understand that she was not going to let him persuade her to make love, not until she was able to sort out her true feelings for him. She wanted to end this sensation that she was married to a stranger before they shared any further intimacies.
 

“Blake, I have no intention—” Dina began.
 

“Neither have I,” he cut in sharply and paused at the doorway to the bathroom to pin her with his gaze. His mouth slanted in a cruel line. “I won't be exercising my husbandly rights with you. Didn't you think I was capable of phrasing it politely?” Blake mocked the sudden paleness of her complexion. “Perhaps if I had promised not to rape you, it would have been more in keeping with your image of me, wouldn't it?”
 

Dina turned away from his caustic challenge. “As long as we understand each other,” she murmured stiffly.
 

“Just so there isn't any mistake. I won't touch you again until you come to me. And you will come to me, Dina.” There was something almost threatening in the savagely controlled tone he used.