An Independent Wife (14 page)

Awakening from her doze, Sallie stirred, opened her eyes and raised her head to find Rhy just awakening, too, his eyes still sleepy. Memories of the many mornings years ago when they'd made love and gone back to sleep made her feel eerily as if those intervening years had never been. His hand smoothed her hair back from her face, then slid around to clasp her slender neck with those strong lean fingers. "You never did tell me," he whispered. "Are you in love with him?"

She closed her eyes in resignation. He had the determination of a bulldog. But what could she tell him?

Would he believe her or even understand if she told him that the way she loved Chris wasn't romantic or even sexual? The fingers clasping her neck tightened warningly and she opened her eyes. "Chris is none of your business," she said finally, tilting her chin at the grim temper that hardened his mouth,

"But I haven't slept with him, so make of that what you like."

Silence followed that challenge and confession for several minutes, and when she summoned the nerve to look directly at him again she was jolted by the look of raw desire on his face. "Don't ... don't look at me like that," she whispered, lowering her eyes again.

"I want you," he said hoarsely. "I'm going to have you. I'm glad that you don't have a lover now because I don't want any complications to stand in my way."

Wearily she shook her head. "No, you still don't understand. Just because I'm not sleeping with anyone doesn't mean that I want to take up our marriage again. For the record, I've never slept with anyone but you, but I just don't want to live with you. I don't think it'll work. Don't you see?" she pleaded. "I need my job the way you needed yours when we were first married. I can't be happy staying at home and cleaning house now, I need more, more than you're willing to give. I need my freedom."

His face was taut as he stared at her, his eyes restless. "Don't ask me to send you on a dangerous assignment," he muttered. "I can't. If anything happened to you and I was the one responsible for your being there I couldn't live with myself. But as for the job-maybe we can work out a compromise. Let's give it a try, see how we get along together. All we ever did before was make love. We didn't get to know each other as people. We'll be here for three more days. While we're here let's just enjoy each other and worry about the future when we get back to the States. Can we manage three days together without fighting?'I

"I don't know," she said cautiously. The temptation to enjoy those three days stole away her strength.

She knew Rhy, knew that his idea of a compromise was to hem her in so that she had to do things his way, but there was nothing he could do while they were here. She had already taken the precaution of drawing out her savings, and once they returned to New York she knew she'd have to leave, but for now ... for now why couldn't she simply enjoy being with her husband and loving him? Three days was so short a space in which to store up enough memories to last a lifetime! Why couldn't he see that they were hopelessly incompatible?

"All right," she finally agreed. "But when we get back don't expect me automatically to move in with you. I'll hold you to that compromise,"

His strong mouth curved with amusement. "I never thought any differently," he said wryly, thrusting his fingers through her hair at the back of her head and pulling her down for his kiss. The kiss began casually, then gradually deepened until they were clinging together in mutual need that could only be satisfied one way.

As they dressed to attend the half-party, half-press conference that Marina was giving prior to the charity ball, Sallie was struck by how familiar it seemed, the same routine of so many years ago emerging without them having to talk about it. She used the bath first, then, while she was putting on her makeup and arranging her hair, Rhy showered and shaved. He waited until she'd put on her lipstick, then grabbed her and kissed her, smearing the color outside her lip line, chuckling to himself as she flounced back to the mirror to repair the job. How many times had he done that in the past? She couldn't remember. It was part of their marriage, and when she met his eyes in the mirror she knew that he was remembering, too, and they smiled at each other.

The gown she'd chosen was a pale rose silk, simply cut, as her lack of stature wouldn't permit anything frivolous or she looked like a doll. The color was extremely flattering to her dark blue eyes and glossy sable hair and Rhy eyed her with male appreciation as he zipped her up.

"I don't think it's safe for you to leave this room." He bent down to murmur in her ear. "Some wild sheik will steal you and take you into the desert and I'll have to start a war to get you back again."

"What? And ruin a good story?" she mocked, meeting his eyes in the mirror. "I'm certain I could escape, and just think what good reading that would make!"

"I would laugh," he said wryly, "but I know firsthand the kind of dangers you've faced, and it damned near curdles my blood. It's one thing for me to risk my hide and quite another for yours to be endangered."

"Not really," she argued, leaning forward to brush her finger under her eye and remove a tiny smudge she'd just noticed. "When we were together before, I was terrified that you'd be hurt and I nearly died when you were shot. Now I understand what sent you back to the field as soon as possible, because I became hooked on excitement, too."

"It wears off," he said, an almost weary look passing over his hard features. "The danger became almost a bore, and the thought of sleeping in the same bed for more than a few days in a row grew in attractiveness. Roots don't necessarily tie you down, baby, they can help you to grow bigger."

"That's true, if the pot's large enough so that you don't become root-bound," she pointed out and turned to face him. She was smiling but the expression in her eyes was serious and he tilted her face up to him with one long finger under her chin.

"But holding on to you is so much fun," he teased. "Don't you ever think of anything else?" She shook her head in amusement.

"When I'm with you? Rarely." His gray eyes took on a glint of passion as he looked down at her. "Even before I knew who you were all I had to do was catch a glimpse of that sassy braid switching back and forth across your trim little rear and I wanted to chase you down in the hallways."

Sallie smiled, but inwardly she recognized that all of his words, his actions, were based on physical attraction and not on an emotional need. Rhy wanted her, there was no doubt about that, but the realization was growing in her that he was incapable of love. Perhaps it was just as well. If he loved as intensely as he desired, his love could be soul destroying.

The party was being held in another hotel as the Al Mahdi palace was being readied for the ball and Marina's husband did not want their own home opened to the public for security reasons. The circular drive in front of the hotel was choked with limousines and there was a confusing mixture of accents as Europeans and Americans mingled with the native Sakaryans. Security was tight; the doors and lower windows were posted with guards, fierce-looking Sakaryans in boots and military uniforms, with cocky little berets on their heads, watching the crowd of foreign visitors with their fierce black desert eyes. Their credentials and invitation were checked and rechecked as Sallie and Rhy moved slowly forward in the swarm of people.

But once inside they were guided smoothly into the suite being used and all outward signs of security vanished. There was soft, soothing music playing and the light tinkle of ice cubes against glass testified that many people were relaxing.

The suite was simply furnished in the Arabic way, but there were enough seats for anyone who preferred to sit instead of stand. The colors blended simply, golds and browns and whites, and Sallie discerned Marina's touch in the many plants and flowers that dotted the rooms and both cheered and soothed. She looked about for her friend but was unable to catch sight of her in the constantly moving flow of humanity.

"Why is the security so stiff outside?" she asked, leaning close to Rhy so no one else could hear her.

"Because Zain isn't a fool," Rhy growled. "A lot

of people would like to see him dead. Relatives of the King who are jealous of Zain's influence, religious purists who don't like his progressive politics, terrorist left-wingers who don't need a reason, even Communists. Sakarya is an important hunk of real estate these da s."

"I heard about the oil reserves," she whispered. "Are they that large?"

"Massive. If the surveys prove correct Sakarya will have reserves second only to the Saudis."

"I see," she mused. "And since the finance minister is married to an American woman his sympathies will naturally lean to the West. That makes his influence with the King doubly important. Good heavens, is it safe for Marina to live here?"

"As safe as Zain can make it, and he's a cunning man. He intends to die of old age."

She intended to ask more but a flash of bright hair caught her eye, and she turned her head to see Marina bearing down on her. Her friend was gorgeous, glowing, her lovely spring green eyes sparkling with gaiety. "Sallie!" she exclaimed, laughing, and the two hugged each other enthusiastically. "I wasn't sure you were going to make it! I couldn't believe it. Someone kept wanting to send another reporter in your place. I refused to see her, of course," she said with laughing triumph.

"Of course," agreed Sallie. "By the way, Marina, let me introduce my publisher, Rhydon Baines. He's the one who tried to foul things up for us."

"You're kidding!" Marina smiled up at Rhy and gave him her hand. "Didn't you know Sallie and I are old friends?"

"Not until after the fireworks," he said wryly. "I soon found out. Is Zain here? It's been a long time since I've seen him."

Recognition lit Marina's eyes. "You're that Rhy Baines? Yes, he's here somewhere." She turned her head to locate her husband, peering around groups of people. "Here he comes now."

Zain ibn Rashid was a lean, pantherish man with a darkly aquiline face and a rather cruel smile, but he wore his exquisitely tailored suit as casually as an American teenager would wear jeans. Sensuality curled his upper lip and hooded his piercing black eyes, and with a shock Sallie realized that she'd only met one other man who exuded that aura of raw sexuality, Rhy. It was ironic but rather inevitable that she and Marina had married the same type of man, both untamed and unlikely ever to be tamed.

"Rhy!" Zain had transferred his gaze from his wife to glance casually at the couple with her and now his black eyes opened with recognition and he extended his hand. "I'd heard you were going to interview the King, then that the plans were changed. Are you going to do the interview after all?"

"No, someone else will do that. I'm here on a different matter entirely," Rhy said in a wry tone, nodding his head to indicate Sallie. "I'm here as a bodyguard for the reporter from World in Review.

Sallie, let me introduce Zain Abdul ibn Rashid, the minister of finance-"

"And my husband," Marina broke in impishly. "Zain, Sallie is my friend I've been telling you about."

Then she looked at Rhy. "What do you mean, bodyguard? I thought you were the publisher of the magazine?"

"I am," he admitted, unperturbed. "I'm also her husband."

Irrepressible Marina squealed and hugged Sallie again. "You're married! When did this happen? Why didn't you write me?"

"I haven't had time," Sallie blurted without thinking while she shot Rhy a glance that promised revenge. He merely smiled at her, well satisfied with his announcement.

Zain was grinning openly. "So you finally got caught. We'll have to celebrate, but when I don't know.

Marina has thrown the country into an uproar. I'll be glad when this is over." He gave his wife a look that held for several seconds before he jerked his eyes away, but Sallie had seen his expression and she heaved an inward sigh of relief. He'd looked at Marina with absorbing tenderness before pulling his sardonic mask back in place. He really loved Marina; he hadn't chosen her simply for her golden beauty.

"I can't stay any longer, I have to circulate." Marina sighed, putting her hand on Zain's arm. "Sallie, I promise that after the ball we'll curl up and talk our heads off."

Sallie nodded. "I'll see you then," she said as Marina left to attend to the other guests, with Zain a watchful escort.

"She's beautiful," Rhy commented.

"Yes." She glanced at him from under her lashes. "Even more beautiful than Coral."

"Am I supposed to argue with that?" he drawled. She shrugged and didn't answer. Instead she questioned, "How long have you known Zain?"

"Several years," he said noncommittally. "How did you meet him?"

"What is this, an interview?" he parried, taking her arm and steering her to the side. He signaled a waiter who came over with a tray of glasses. Rhy took two glasses of champagne and gave one to Sallie.

"Why aren't you answering me?" she persisted, and at last he gave her an exasperated look. "Because, baby, I wouldn't like my answers to be overheard, and neither would Zain. Now be a good girl, and stop being so nosy."

She glared at him and turned her back, walking slowly among the ebb and flow of people as she sipped from her glass. Nosy! Asking questions was her job and he knew it. But he was the most contrary man she'd ever met, she thought idly, tracing her finger along the rim of a jade vase. Contrary and arrogant, he didn't know what it meant to be thwarted in anything he wanted.

"Stop sulking and start taking notes," he whispered in her ear. "Notice who's here and who isn't."

"I don't need you to tell me how to do my job," she flared, walking away from him again.

"No, what you need is a good spanking," he murmured, his long legs and greater strength making it easy for him to stay even with her in the press of people.

Perhaps he had hoped to get a rise out of her with that ridiculous statement, but she ignored him and continued her wandering progress through the suite. She rarely took notes at a function like this, having learned that it made people self-conscious. One of her assets was that she had an excellent memory and she used it, identifying the European blue bloods and financial giants. Social events weren't really her field, but she was able to put a name and a country to the important people and most of the not-so-important ones, as well.