Beloved (12 page)

226

Beloved

He hadn't meant to touch her. But her body, her
exquisite body,
in that thin robe and gown had driven
him right over the edge.
He still had the
taste of her soft, sweet lips on his mouth, he could
still feel her pressed completely to him. It was killing him!

He clenched his hand and forced himself to breathe
slowly until
he began to relax. At least she hadn't seen him helpless
like this.
If she knew how vulnerable he
was, she might feel like a little
revenge.
He couldn't blame her, but his pride wouldn't stand it.
She might decide to seduce him and then keep him
dangling. That
would be the crudest
blow of all, when he knew she was Charles Percy's lover. He had sick visions of
Tira
telling him everything
Simon had done to her and laughing about how easily
she'd knocked him off balance. Charles was
Tira's
lover. Her lover.
God, the thought of
it made him sick!

He could see why Charles couldn't keep away from her. It
made
him bitter to realize that he could probably
have cut Charles out
years ago if he
hadn't been so blind and prejudiced.
Tira
could
have been his. But instead, she was Charles's, and she
could only
hate Simon now for the treatment he'd
dealt out to her. He
couldn't imagine
her still loving him, even if he had taunted her
with it to salvage what was left of his pride.

He got into his car finally and drove away in a roar of
fury.
Damn her for making him lose his head, he
thought, refusing to
remember that he'd started the whole
damned thing. And damn
him for letting her
do it!

Chapter 6

After consuming far more whiskey than he should have the night
before, Simon awoke with vivid memories of
Tira
in his arms and
groaned heavily. He'd blown it, all over again. He didn't know
how he was going to smooth things over this time. Jill
called and invited herself to lunch with him, fishing for clues to his unusual
bad humor. He mumbled something about going to the opera and
having
an argument with
Tira
, but offered no details at all.
She
asked him if he'd expected
Tira
to be there, and he brushed off further questions,
pleading work.

Jill was livid at the thought that
Tira
was cutting in on her
territory, just when things were going
so well. She phoned the
house and was told
by Mrs. Lester that
Tira
had gone shopping.
The rest was easy....

Tira
, still smoldering from the betrayal of
her weak body the
night before, treated
herself to lunch at a small sandwich shop downtown. Fate seemed to be against
her, she thought with cold resignation, when Jill Sinclair walked into the shop
and made a
beeline for her just as
she was working on dessert and a second
cup of coffee.

^“
Well, how are you
doing?'' Jill asked with an innocent smile.

228

Beloved
         
Diana Palmer

229

"Just sandwiches? Poor you! Simon's taking me to Chez Paul for
crepes and cherries jubilee."

"Then why are you here?"
Tira
asked not disposed to be
friendly toward her
worst enemy.

Jill's
perfect eyebrows arched. "Why I was shopping next door
for a new diamond tennis bracelet and I spotted
you in here," she
lied. "I
thought a word to the wise, you know,” she added, glanc
ing around with
the wariness of a veteran intelligence agent before
she leaned down to whisper, "Simon was very vexed to have
found you sitting next to him at the opera
lastt
night. You really
should be more careful about engineering these little 'accidental'
meetings and chasing after him, dear. He’s in a
vicious mood
today!"

"Good!"
Tira
said with
barely controlled rage. She glared at
the other woman.
"Would you like to have coffee with me, Jill?"
She asked, and drew back the hand that was holding the
cup of
lukewarm coffee. "Let me introduce you
to Miss Cup!"

Jill barely stepped back in time as the coffee cup flew
through
the air and hit the floor inches in
front of her. Her eyes were wide
open, and her mouth
joined it. She hadn’t expected her worst
enemy to fight back.

"My, my, aren't I the clumsy one!”
Tira
said sweetly. "I
dropped Miss Cup and spilled my coffee!”

Jill swallowed, hard. "I'll just
be off,” she said quickly.

"Oh, look,"
Tira
added, lifting the plastic coffeepot the wait
ress had left on her table with a whimsical smile. "Mr. Coffee
pot's coming after Miss Cup!"

Jill actually ran. If
Tira
hadn't been so miserable, she might
have laughed
at the sight. As it was, she apologized profusely to
the waitress about the spilled coffee and left a tip big enough to
excuse the extra work she'd made for the woman.

But it didn't really cheer her up. She went back home and
started sculpting a new piece for the
gallery. It wasn't necessary
work, but it gave
her something to do so that she wouldn't spend

the day remembering Simon's hard kisses or thinking about how
good Jill would look buried up to her armpits in stinging
nettles.

The next day she was asked to serve on a committee to
oversee
Christmas festivities for a local
children's shelter. It was a committee that Simon chaired, and she refused
politely, only to have
him call her right
back and ask why.

She was furious. "Don't you know?" she demanded.
"You had Jill rub my nose in it for—how did she put this?—chasing you to

the opera!"

There was a long pause. “I asked Sherry to give you the
ticket to the opera, since she couldn't use it," he confessed, to her sur
prise. "If anyone was chasing, it was me."

She felt her heart stop.
"What?"

"You heard me," he said curtly. There was
another pause.
"Work with me on the committee.
You'll enjoy it."

She would. But she was reluctant to get closer to him than
a telephone receiver. "I don't know that I would," she said finally.
"You're not yourself lately."

"I know that."
 
He was feeling his way.
 
"Can't we start

again?"

She hesitated. "As what?" she asked bluntly.

"Co-workers. Friends. Whatever you like."

That was capitulation, of a sort, at least. Perhaps he
was through
trying to make her pay for John's
untimely death. Whatever his
reason, her life
was empty without him, wasn't it? Surely friend
ship was better than nothing at all? She refused to think about
how his kisses had felt.

“Is Jill on the committee?'' she asked suddenly, wary of
plots.

"No!"

That was definite enough. "All right, then," she
said heavily.

"I'll do it."

"Good! I'll pick you up for the
meeting tomorrow night."
"No, you
won't," she returned shortly. "I'll drive myself.

Where is it?"

Beloved

He
told her. There was nothing in his voice to betray whether
or not he was irritated by her stubborn refusal to
ride with him.
He was even more
irritated by Jill's interference. He'd made a
bad mistake there, taking
out
Tira's
worst enemy. He'd been de
pressed and Jill was good company, but it would
have to stop.
Tira
wasn't going to take kindly to having Jill
antagonize her out of sheer rivalry.

Tira
went to the meeting, finding several old friends serving on
the committee. They worked for three hours on
preparations for a
party, complete with an elderly local
man who had agreed to play Santa Claus for the children.
Tira
was to help serve and bring two cakes, having volunteered because she had no
plans for Christmas Eve other than to lay a trap for that mouse in the kitchen.
Another woman, a widow, also volunteered to help, and two of the men,
including Simon.

He stopped her by her car after the meeting. "The
boys are having a Christmas party Saturday night in Jacobsville. They'd
like you to come."

^“
I don't..."

He put a big forefinger across her soft mouth, startling
her. The
intimacy was unfamiliar and
worrisome.

"Charles can do without you for one Saturday night,
can't he?"
he asked curtly.

"I
haven't seen Charles lately. His brother, Gene, is in the
hospital," she said, having forgotten
whether or not she'd mentioned it to him. "
Nessa
isn't coping well at all, and Charles can't
leave her alone."

"
Nessa
?"

"Gene's wife." She wanted to tell him about
Nessa
and
Charles, but it
wasn't her secret and letting him think she and Charles were close was the only
shield she had at the moment.
She couldn't let her guard down. She
still didn't quite trust him.
His new
attitude toward her was puzzling and she didn't under
stand why he'd changed.

Diana Palmer
                                                                         
231

"I see."

"You don't, but it doesn't matter. I want to go
home. I'm

cold."

He searched her quiet face. "I
could offer an alternative," he

said in a soft,
velvety tone.

She looked up at him with cool disdain. "I don't do
casual
affairs, Simon," she said bluntly.
"Just in case the thought had
crossed your mind lately."

He looked as if he'd been slapped. His jaw tautened.
"Don't you? Then if your affair with Charles Percy isn't casual, why
hasn't he married you?"

"I don't want to marry again," she said in a husky
voice, avert
ing her eyes. "Not ever."

He hesitated. He knew why she felt that way, that she'd
been
betrayed in the worst way. Her father-in-law
had told him every
thing, but he was uncertain about
whether or not to tell her that

he knew.

She
glanced at him warily. "Does Jill know that you're still
grieving for your wife?'' she asked, taking the
fight right into the
enemy camp.
"Or is she just an occasional midnight snack?"

His eyebrows arched. "That's a
hell of a comparison."

"Isn't it?" She smiled sweetly.
"I'm going home."

"Come to Jacobsville with
me."

"And into the jaws of death or kitchen
slavery?" she taunted.
"I know all
about the biscuit mania. I'm not about to be captured
by your loopy brothers."

"They won't come near you," he promised.
"Corrigan's hired a new cook. She's redheaded and she can bake
anything."

"She won't last two weeks before Leopold has her
running for
the border," she assured him.

It pleased him that she knew his brothers so well, that
she took an interest in his family. She and Corrigan had been friends and
occasionally had dated in the past, but there had been no spark
between them. In fact, Charles Percy had always been in
the way
of any other man and
Tira
. Why hadn't he noticed that before?

Beloved

"You've been going around with Charles ever since
you left
John," he recalled absently.

"Charles is my friend," she said.

"Friend," he scoffed, his eyes insulting.
"Is that what it's
called these
days?"

"You should know," she
returned. "What does Jill call it?"

His eyes narrowed angrily. "At least she's honest
about what
she wants from me," he replied.
"And it isn't my money."

She shrugged. "To each his
own."

He searched her face quietly. "You kissed me back
the other
night."

Her cheeks went ruddy and she looked away,
clutching her
purse. "I have to go."
                                                                    

He was right behind her. He didn't touch her, but she
could
feel the warm threat of him all down her
spine, oddly comforting
in the chilly December air.

"Stop running!"

Her eyes closed
for an instant before she reached for the door
handle. "We seemed to be friends once," she said in a husky
tone. "But we weren't, not really. You only
tolerated me. I'm
amazed that I went
through all those years so blind that I never
saw the contempt you felt when you looked at me."

"
Tira
..."

She turned, holding up a hand. "I'm not accusing
you. I just
want you to know that I'm not
carrying a torch for you or breaking
my heart
because you go around with Jill." Her eyes were lack
luster and he realized with a start that she'd lost a lot
of weight
in the past few months. She looked fragile, breakable.

"What are you saying?" he
asked.

"That I don't need you to pity me, Simon," she
said with
visible pride. "I don't really
want a closer association with you,
whatever
Jill says or you think. I'm rearranging my life. I've started over. I don't
want to go back to the way we were."

He felt those words like a knife. She meant them. It was
in her whole expression.

Diana Palmer
                                                                                                    
233

"I see," he said quietly.

"No, you don't," she replied heavily.
"You're sort of like a
drug," she
mused. "I was addicted to you and I've been cured,
but even small doses are dangerous to my recovery."

His heart leaped. He caught her gaze and held it
relentlessly.

“
What did you
say?"

"You know what I mean," she returned.
"I'm not going to let
myself become
addicted again. I have Charles and you have Jill.
Let's go our separate ways and get on with our lives. I was serious
about the pistol and the mouse, you know, it wasn't some
face-
saving excuse. I never meant to kill myself
over you."

"Oh, hell, I knew that."

"Then why..."

"Yes?"

She
turned her purse in her hands. "Why do you keep engi
neering situations where we'll be thrown
together?" she asked.
"It
serves no purpose."

His hand came out of his pocket and lifted to touch,
lightly,
her upswept hair. She flinched and he
dropped his hand with a

long sigh.

"You can't forget, can you?" he asked slowly.

"I'm trying," she assured him. "But every
time we're together,
people speculate.
The newspaper stories were pretty hard to live
down, even for me. I don't really want to rekindle speculation."

"You never cared about gossip before."

"I was never publicly savaged before," she
countered. "I've
been made to look
like some clinging, simpering nymph crying
for a man who doesn't want her. My pride is in shreds!"

He was watching her narrowly. "How do you know that
I don't
want you,
Tira
?"
he asked deliberately.

She stared at him without speaking, floored by the
question.

"I'll pick you up at six on Saturday and drive you
to Jacobs-
ville
," he said. "Wear something elegant. It's
formal."

"I won't go," she said
through her teeth.

"You'll go," he replied with chilling certainty.