Torn Asunder Page 7

  Cle was not conceited, but she would have had to be blind not to have noticed the admiring glances coming her way from the two men who were setting out the food. Rather than feeling flattered, she was more determined than ever to change.

  When she saw that things were in good shape she left the two men and hot footed it toward the bedroom. Before she had even crossed the hall, though, the front door bell was ringing. Cle sighed and answered the door.

  "Darling, you look sensational," Jaime declared, taking hold of her arm and turning her in front of him. He looked at Max Brainerd, satisfaction on his face. "This is called 'Venus.' Lovely, isn't it?"

  "Lovely, but the model is even lovelier," Max said, not bothering to hide his admiration as he looked her over from head to toe.

  "I was just going to change..." Cle began.

  "Ridiculous!" Jaime roared. "You look beautiful. My dress has made you so. You must wear it. I insist." Jaime quick marched her into the lounge, where one of the white coated young men was setting up a portable bar.

  Still with his hand clutching Cle's upper arm, Jaime stalked to the bar and ordered a vermouth on the rocks, glaring at the hapless young man when he fumbled and put dry vermouth into the glass. Jaime liked sweet vermouth and assumed that everyone knew that.

  "Jaime, will you be patient and let him get set up first?" Cle hissed, trying to pry his fingers from her arm. "And will you let go of me? My arm is going numb."

  "First you will promise me that you won't change your gown! Oh, Max, answer the door, will you?" He turned back to Cle, his voice squeaking more than usual. "Promise you won't change."

  "I promise, you tyrant." Cle watched him go back to the bar and begin badgering the bartender. "Jaime, there's something I have to tell you. Oh, yes, thanks for the Perrier." Irritated Cle put one hand on his arm and shook it. "Will you listen to me for a moment? I must tell you something."

  Jaime looked past her, putting his professional smile in place. "No time now, for a tete a tete, Cleora, your guests are here," Jaime whispered from the side of his mouth.

  Cle turned to greet the Nivenses and the Murrays and the Bells. Cle had asked Diana Nivens if it was all right to invite the two couples she had met at their beach party and Diana had consented with enthusiasm, delighted that Cle had taken to Pam and George Murray and Ginna Bell. In the flurry of introductions of Jaime to the new arrivals, Cle had no time to pull him aside to tell him that Dev was in Sydney—more, that he would be here tonight.

  Max had brought two of his models with him and Alistair's assistant, Clive Beavens and his wife. As more people kept arriving, Max confessed he'd overextended the invitations.

  "I felt that you wouldn't mind, Cle dear," Max announced, smiling at her gasp of dismay.

  "How many are coming??" she asked in a small voice.

  "Not to worry. There won't be more than thirty. Forty would be the outside number." He smiled and patted her cheek. "You'll like them, dear. All walks of life, don't you know."

  "Max," Cle wailed. "I'm not sure I have enough food or even enough to drink..."

  "Something wrong, darling?" Dev's hand was warm at her waist as he leaned down and kissed her shoulder. "You look devastating." The palm of his left hand lay flat against her stomach as he pulled her back closer to ; him.

  Cle stood there, not even turning to look at him, her body feeling as though it was going through a mini electrocution. "I... I might not have enough food or drink." Her voice was wooden. "When did you get here? I didn't hear the bell ring."

  "Didn't you?" Dev's breath feathered her cheek as he lowered his head to kiss her ear. Then he straightened and without releasing her, snaked his right hand round her body and extended it to the puzzled looking Max. "Hello. I'm Dev Carstairs."

  "Max Brainerd." Max took Dev's hand without enthusiasm, his face growing more suspicious.

  "I'll talk to the catering people for you, darling," Dev announced and with a nod to Max and a light kiss on Cle's hair, he moved toward the kitchen.

  "Who is that? Or would you rather I didn't ask?" Max had a crease between his brows.

  Before Cle could answer Max, she spied Jaime marching across the room. She closed her eyes for a moment wishing for a rocket that would send her right out of the room. "I think your question will be answered in a moment." Cle tried to smile at Max as Jaime thundered to stop at her side.

  "What in hell is he doing here? I thought you came to Sydney to get away from him? You might have told me that you had changed your mind, Cle. "Jaime machine gunned the words at her.

  "Cool down, old boy," Max said quickly. "Your face is turning purple and people are looking at us."

  "Max is right, Jaime. Cool down or you'll spoil the party." Cle sighed. "I don't know how he found me. He showed up this afternoon. I tried to tell you when you arrived this evening, but I didn't have time."

  "Hello, Toner. Happy New Year." Dev lifted his glass in mocking salute. Then he turned to look at Cle. "All taken care of, darling. More food and drinks will be coming." He looked back at Jaime. "I heard you ask Cle how I got here." He took another swallow of what Cle knew would be Irish whiskey, a little water, and no ice. "I put detectives on you Toner. They informed me that you had booked a flight to Australia. Nice touch flying from Toronto International." Dev's smile had ice in it.

  Jaime's face turned a rich magenta, his mouth opening and closing. Before he could say anything, Cle clutched his hand.

  "Jaime, it's time for dinner. Please." Cle let her nails dig into his wrist, finally making him look down at her, his face an angry mask.

  Cle had planned on a sit down dinner but when she went to the caterer's with her excuses, she found them all smiles and more than willing to set out a buffet. Cle wondered just how much Dev had paid them to make them smile like that at all the inconvenience. It stunned Cle when she saw the array of food that was set out in the dining room. Small trays were being placed here and there so that people could put their plates and silverware on them. To her surprise dinner was only a half an hour later than she originally planned.

  She looked once at Dev and was infuriated when he raised his glass to salute her. Damn the man! He did everything well, even to saving her dinner party. Instead of feeling grateful Cle had the strongest desire to up end the ice bucket over his head!

  Everyone seemed to think the picnic atmosphere of the dinner a nice touch and people were laughing and talking to one another in a warm way.

  Cle took her tray of food and sat on a stool near Max and Jaime but her ear seemed to be tuned to every word that Dev said. It irritated her that Pam Murray and Ginna Bell seemed to gush over his every syllable.

  "And you practice in America as well as Britain, Mr. Carstairs... I mean Dev?" Ginna simpered.

  "No, my law practice is in Great Britain, but I do consulting for firms throughout the world. I find business consulting the greater challenge."

  "It's practical to have houses in both London and New York. We are thinking of opening one up in the Far East soon, and, of course, Sydney would be a perfect spot for a base."

  "Wonderful," Pam cooed, her voice an irritant to Cle. "Then we could see you all the time."

  "True," Dev answered, making the ladies laugh.

  Cle could hear a roaring in her ears and wondered if she were coming down with the flu.

  "And did you have to take special studies to become a consultant in the States, Dev?" Pam asked.

  "I attended HarvardLawSchool and Wharton School of Business in order to further my understanding." Dev's quiet voice rang false to Cle's ear. "Further his understanding indeed!" she harrumphed to herself. The man had passed the New York State Bar Exam and had a slew of degrees, both British and American.

  "Ohhh," the two women chorused. "How bright you must be."

  At that Cle rose to her feet, almost tilting the plate from the tray table.

  Jaime looked up at her, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. "Going back for seconds, Cle?"

  "Going to be sick, I
think." Cle gritted her teeth.

  "What, Cle?" Jaime raised his voice, making Dev turn toward him.

  Cle swung back, feeling that she was in some kind of awful silent movie. "I just want to check the time and the preparations. We wouldn't want midnight to creep up on us and not have the champagne ready." Cle quickly turned her back, not wanting Jaime to see the sour look she was sure was twisting her face at that moment.

  "I'll help you," Dev stated, rising to his feet and placing his napkin and plate on his tray.

  Cle opened her mouth to tell him that she didn't need his help but the flicker deep in those green eyes was menacing. Cle looked at both Max and Jaime, who were in turn looking at Dev. She thought for a moment that Jaime was going to rise.

  Dev put his hand on the other man's shoulder. "Stay where you are. No sense all of us running." His voice was bland, his eyes acid green. Jaime stayed where he was.

  Cle whirled away, mumbling to herself as she headed for the kitchen. The caterers were arranging the dessert trays with an inviting array of French pastries. They informed her they would clear the main course soon and asked if they could leave then since they were expected elsewhere shortly after midnight. They told Cle they would pick up the rest of their things the next day if she would leave them in the service hall.

  "Yes, of course I will. Can you tell me the amount of the bill for the extra food and drink so I can have a check ready for you tomorrow as well."

  "Oh, that was taken care of by your husband, ma'am," the older man said. The caterers took the trays to the other room.

  Cle rounded on Dev, lounging against the wall. "How did that man get the idea you were my husband?" she spat at him. As he opened his mouth to answer her, she forestalled him. "And don't think I'm going to let you pay for the extras, because I'm not." She held out her hand, palm upward." Give me the bill this instant."

  "I'll give it to you at the end of the evening," Dev drawled walking to the counter area where trays filled with tulip shaped crystal glasses stood ready to be filled with bubbly. He glanced at his watch. "It's eleven fifteen, Cle. By the time every one has dessert it will be getting close to twelve." He grimaced. "Not that anyone will feel like anything after that meal. It was very good, darling."

  Stung, Cle glared at him. "And I suppose that the Carstairs would never serve champagne to anyone on a full stomach."

  Dev straightened, a sculpted look to his features. "I wasn't being snide, Cle. And for your information, champagne is served anytime..."

  "I know that." She wanted to shriek at him, but it came out a low snarl. She was too afraid of the others hearing them.

  "Then why the hell did you make a remark like that?"

  "Why the hell did you make the remark you did?"

  His body thrust forward. "For a haepenny I'd... I'd—"

  "You touch me, Your Lordship," Cle ground out, temper flaming through her body.

  Dev's hand shot out like a missile, pulling her hard against him.

  The door leading to the service hall opened and one of the caterers came through. He paused there, a curious look on his face.

  "Don't think this is the end of it," Dev hissed into her hair, then he released her. Walking toward the man, he made complimentary remarks on the food and service, ending "and of course we'll recommend you to our friends."

  "You don't have any," Cle muttered childishly.

  The man was busy with his pots and pans so he didn't hear her, but Dev turned to glare.

  Before he could say anything to her, Cle went to the counter and lifted one of the glass laden trays. She knew she would have to return to the kitchen for the champagne but fear and a desire to make a flashy exit drove her to the lounge area.

  Most of the people there were watching the television. A man was promising a minute by minute countdown to the new year as Cle placed the glasses on a table. She was about to ask Max if he would mind getting the champagne when Dev stepped close to her back. He was carrying several bottles and a linen towel. He put everything down on the table and with a minimum of effort he uncorked the first bottle and began filling the glasses. "This isn't New York StateChampagne, Cle." One black brow arched.

  "I'm settling for French," she snapped, lifting two of the glasses and handing them to the two models named Sandy and Lee.

  Before she could take more from the tray, Ginna was there.

  "Oh, Cle dear, let me help. You see to your guests. I'll be Dev's wine waiter." Ginna beamed up at him.

  "Why thank you, Ginna." Dev's smile had a sensuous curve.

  Cle turned away almost bumping into Diana Nivens. "Oh, sorry. The closer it gets to midnight, the clumsier I get." She forced a smile.

  "You mustn't mind Ginna and Pam. They love to flirt and let's face it, Dev Carstairs is the best looking thing to hit Sydney in two decades."

  Cle could feel heat in her face. "It has nothing to do with me how many women Dev has. He and I are just.. .acquaintances." The lie was like a wad of gum in her mouth.

  When a glass of champagne was pushed into her hand, she took a sip at once.

  "Don't gulp that stuff, darling. I'd rather not have to pick you up off the floor at your own party," Dev crooned into her ear.

  Cle rounded on him, sputtering. "How like you to remind me of a very embarrassing incident..."

  "Sickening, too, as I recall." He smiled down at her.

  Cle gasped. "You're a rat, Devon Carstairs." She muttered an oath and took another gulp of champagne, then seeing Diana's curious glance, she almost choked. She debated with herself if she would go over and explain to Diana that the antipathy between Dev and herself was a long standing family feud, when he took her arm and turned her closer to him. She looked up at him, still angry.

  "The announcer says we only have two minutes." Dev's smile had a hard twist to it. "And you are staying with me."

  Cle was trying to think of an argument, trying to steel herself against the pleasure that was mounting in her because Dev had his arm about her, when someone yelled "Happy New Year."

  Dev took the glass from her hand and set it with his on a table. Then as though he had all the time in the world he enfolded her against him, tightened his hold at her token struggle, then let his mouth drop to hers like a brand.

  At the first touch, Cle was lost, so much so, that she wrapped her arms around his neck. Dev's hold lifted her to her toes, then off the floor.

  Cle could hear the other voices, could sense their movements but nothing intruded. She was on another planet with Dev. Their mouths were hungry for each other, their hands and bodies clutching and straining to be together.

  When Dev released her and lowered her back to the floor, Cle was dazed. She tried to focus on Dev, when she was yanked away from him by Max who embraced her and swung her away. Next Jaime took hold of her. Cle sensed an urgency in his kiss but she was still too bemused by Dev's touch to analyze it.

  She felt she was being passed around like a package but was glad of the excitement, hoping it had diverted attention from her and Dev.

  Everyone came together in a large, loosely formed circle and held hands to sing "Auld Land Syne." Dev was standing between Pam and Ginna, and the sight brought a taste as bitter as alum to Cle's mouth as she thought of him kissing those women. She resolutely turned away. Soon though, the strain of keeping her eyes away from Dev began to tell. Her head started to ache and she was glad when the first couples decided to leave.

  Diana and Alistair insisted on helping to clean up and so did Max. All Cle's arguing that there wasn't much to do was to no avail. Jaime even helped by finishing a few of the cheese puffs left on a tray. He did accompany Max to the kitchen, carrying one champagne glass, and chattering all the while about a new process he was working on to develop a dye for polyesters.

  There was no way Cle could politely ask Dev to leave while the others were there. She seethed when he gave her a big smile and began collecting empty champagne bottles.

  "He probably hasn't done this much manual
labor in years," she muttered under her breath. "No doubt he'll have a stroke when he realizes how he's demeaned himself." She gave a cruel swipe at a food tray with the cloth in her hand.

  "For someone who is just an acquaintance, he sure acts like a buddy, doesn't he?" Diana purred next to her, wiping out an ashtray with a napkin.

  Cle frowned at her new friend. "He's an insensitive ass, that's all." Cle smiled her brightest smile as Diana's mouth went wide with astonishment.

  Her headache got worse and worse as she vowed frantically, I will get over him! I will get over him! All the while a second little voice pounded an incessant chant of "ha ha ha."

  To her surprise, Dev made no fuss when it was time to go. He did not leave any earlier than any of the others, but he did go with the last of them. Cle wasn't even irritated when he announced at the last moment that he was going to visit her bathroom. It only took minutes.

  By the time the apartment was empty, Cle's head was throbbing so badly that all she could think of was the routine she had to force herself to follow. First a soak in a hot tub to relax, then the two specially prescribed tablets to take, then a hot drink.

  She staggered into the bathroom and ran the water, promising to sleep until noon tomorrow... today, rather, she reminded herself.

  She took her time in the bath, breathing deeply in the steamy atmosphere. Even though the temperature was in the high seventies out of doors, and she was dreadfully uncomfortable, she had to go through with it. Then, with the towel wrapped around her, her wet toes curling on the tile floor, she reached for the tablets that she kept in the lacquered Chinese cupboard that was the same color as the tiles. She swallowed them and gulped the water, sighing. Now one more step. She would have to make herself a hot drink, then sleep, and her headache would diminish if not go away entirely. She only had one or two of these a year but if she didn't treat them at once, they would get progressively worse, finally making her nauseated and very ill.

  When she came out of the bathroom, she fumbled in her dresser drawer for a cool nightie. She donned a sheer cotton that had the texture of silk and was just as transparent.