A Stranger's Wife Page 5

  She looked across the table, and Jake’s eyes met hers.

  He smiled enigmatically. “We should have come here months ago. Something about this island has transformed you.” His jaw moved slightly and he added, “I know I’m not blameless in the mess we made of our marriage. Workaholic that I am, I thought I didn’t have to court you after I married you. We didn’t spend enough time alone together. Except for that weekend in Capri.”

  He glanced away, but not before Meg caught a glimpse of regret in his eyes—and she wondered what had happened in Capri.

  Feeling some comment was called for, Meg said, “You mustn’t blame yourself, Jake. Your business is time-consuming.”

  Surprise flickered in his dark eyes. He said slowly, “I demanded a lot of you—business dinners with people you didn’t know or have anything in common with. Wanting you to learn more about my various enterprises. I felt you were wasting your time with frivolous pursuits when you could have been doing something useful. That’s why I was so delighted today when you agreed to do some menu planning for the hotels.”

  Meg made a noncommittal sound. That rash promise would be difficult to explain to the real Rhea.

  Jake went on. “I couldn’t understand your obsession with making yourself over. It seemed you were never satisfied with the way you looked, dressed, spoke, walked. You’ll never know how it irritated me to come home and find a personal trainer or a voice coach or a hairstylist following you around. And by the way, I wish you’d let your hair go back to its natural color. ”

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “There I go again. Trying to tell you what to do, how to live. It’s too late for that now. It’s just that for the first time you seem to be open to discussion about what’s wrong between us.”

  “Perhaps it would be a good idea to talk about what was right between us,” Meg suggested. “Apparently we do know how to relax together, when we have time.”

  Jake raised his glass of Dom Pérignon. “To a perfect day, Rhea. I don’t remember when I felt this relaxed.” He quoted lightly, “It’s almost like being in love.”

  She tried to look away, but found she couldn’t. She thought she might have said his name, but wasn’t sure. There were warning signals buzzing in her ears, and perhaps she’d had too much champagne, because she was imagining what it might be like if Jake were falling in love with her—with Meg—and there was no Rhea waiting to snatch him back.

  Jake smiled, his teeth very white against his swarthy skin. “I don’t ever remember seeing that look on your face before. There’s a softness there that’s wreaking havoc with my resolve. You’ve never looked at me like that before. What’s happening here, Rhea?”

  Meg hastily lowered her eyes. “It has been a lovely day, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it has... and we still have tonight.”

  There was no mistaking the smoldering promise in his dark eyes.

  Chapter Six

  As they walked back to their bungalow, Jake took Meg’s hand, and the gesture seemed natural, right. She felt a quiver travel up her arm, even when he said offhandedly, “We have to keep up appearances. Our guests could be watching.”

  They strolled through the scented night in silence, but Meg’s thoughts and emotions were caught in a whirlwind. She couldn’t be falling in love with this man. He was another woman’s husband.

  In the bungalow, the bedroom door was open and soft lights illuminated the round bed. The satin coverlet had been turned back and a single red rose adorned the pillow.

  Jake saw her glance in the direction of the bed. “This is a honeymoon hotel, remember?” he said. “We wanted romantic ambience, and the usual mints on the pillow didn’t do it.”

  Meg nodded, afraid that any comment she made might be misconstrued. What was happening to sensible, feet-on-the-ground, play-by-the-rules Meg?

  “Thank you again, for a perfect day, Rhea.” His voice was husky with an unspoken question that Meg recognized only too well. The physical attraction between them was a palpable force that they were both having trouble concealing.

  Jake’s carefully orchestrated attitude of indifference was more evident in his words than in his body language, and the look in his eyes made her heart begin a slow dance against her ribs. She longed to melt into his arms, and only when he called her by his wife’s name did her conscience kick in again.

  As calmly as she could, she said, “Good night, Jake.” Her heartbeat was surely loud enough for him to hear.

  A raw flame flickered in his eyes. The small space between them resonated with yearning.

  Slowly he reached out with one arm, encircled her waist and pulled her close to him.

  Knowing he was about to kiss her, she couldn’t move or speak. Her eyelids felt heavy although she was wide-awake, and a tingling she had never experienced this intensely was working its way insistently to nerve endings too long ignored.

  She swayed toward him and his mouth found hers. Her arms went around him and she pressed closer, returning his kiss, even as distant warning voices clamored to be heard.

  His kiss was like nothing she had ever known. It came close to being an act of love in itself. All rational thought vanished as their mouths blended, and Jake held her so closely that she couldn’t tell which was his heartbeat and which was hers. She felt as if they were soaring through the cosmos, alone together in the universe, and she never wanted the kiss to end, never wanted to lose the magic of his nearness.

  The phone rang, the sound shrill, shocking.

  “Damn,” Jake muttered. “I’ll unplug it.”

  Reality rushed back for Meg. “No, wait, it could be important.” It could be your wife, calling to tell you I’m an imposter.

  “More important than this?” Jake asked, holding her closer.

  Meg slipped out of his arms and picked up the phone. Ducane’s voice, agitated and apologetic, came over the line. “Madame Rhea, forgive the intrusion—I am so sorry—a police officer is calling. It’s regarding M’sieur’s mother.”

  She handed Jake the phone. “You’d better take this.”

  He took the phone and listened for a moment Then he said quietly, “I’ll charter a plane immediately.”

  To Meg he said, “My mother’s had an accident. She’s in the hospital.” He was already punching numbers into the phone.

  MEG GLANCED NERVOUSLY up and down the hospital corridor as she waited for Mike to answer his phone. She cut his greeting short. “It’s me. I’m at the Mission Trauma Center. Jake’s mother was hurt in a freeway pileup. You’ve got to—”

  She broke off and hurriedly hung up the phone as she saw Jake emerge from his mother’s room. He hadn’t argued when she suggested that he see his mother alone first.

  Jake glanced at the telephone, his eyes narrowing. Then he said curtly, “Keep her company for a few minutes while I speak to her doctors. Don’t let her rile you—or vice versa.”

  THE WOMAN LYING in the hospital bed in a private room filled to overflowing with flowers swiveled her exotic dark eyes in Meg’s direction. “Sorry to disappoint you, Rhea. They say I’m going to live.”

  One side of her face was bruised and there was a cast on her left arm. She had Jake’s chiseled cheekbones and sensual mouth, but Meg’s attention focused on her remark, which spoke volumes about her relationship with her daughter-in-law.

  Meg said, “I’m so glad you’re going to be all right.”

  “Of course you are, dear.” Jessica Chastain’s voice was drugged, but still managed to drip with sarcasm.

  “Is there anything you need?” Meg asked, feeling inadequate and wishing Jake would return.

  “You will take care of Huxley, won’t you?” There was a sly gleam in the dark eyes that looked so unnervingly like Jake’s.

  “Yes, of course.” Who is Huxley?

  “I mean, personally. You, Rhea. Not a maid.”

  Huxley must be a pet. A dog? A cat? Please, Meg thought, not a boa constrictor. She said, “I promise.”

  Jessica tried
to laugh, but it turned into a choking cough that caused I.V. tubes to shake alarmingly.

  Meg grabbed the nurse’s button and pressed.

  “I’m...all...right,” Jessica wheezed.

  But the door burst open and two doctors, a nurse and Jake appeared.

  “It only hurts...when I laugh,” Jessica said.

  Meg grinned, in spite of her concern. She had a feeling that, given the opportunity, she would like Jake’s mother.

  “A BROKEN ELBOW, scrapes and bruises,” Jake said as they rode the elevator down to the parking garage. “It could have been a lot worse.”

  “Yes, it could. Those chain-reaction freeway pileups can be deadly. How long did the doctors say she’d have to stay in the hospital?”

  “Just a couple of days, all being well. They want to run a few tests.”

  “Your mother asked me to take care of Huxley,” Meg said, wondering how Rhea addressed her mother-in-law. During their visit, Meg had carefully avoided calling her anything.

  Jake gave her a sidelong glance. “She was baiting you, as usual.”

  “Even so, perhaps I’d better...”

  “We’ll stop by her house. I’m sure Carmelita will stay with him until Jessica goes home.” Jake opened the car door for her. He was looking at her strangely, and Meg was unable to interpret what the look meant.

  His mother’s house was a two-story redwood with wraparound balconies, clinging to a hillside that overlooked the architecturally quaint and charming town of Laguna Beach. There would be a white-water view of the spectacular bay from the balconies, probably all the way to Catalina, Meg thought enviously.

  Carmelita proved to be a petite woman of about fifty, her salt-and-pepper hair swept into a smooth coil on top of her head. She was already speaking even before she opened the front doors.

  “...and she knows better than to be anywhere near the El Toro Y in rush hour. How is she? They wouldn’t tell me nothing on the phone, just that she’s satisfactory. Satisfactory! What does satisfactory mean? Oh, wait, you’ve got Mrs. Rhea with you. I’d better put Huxley outside before you come in—oh, no!”

  The last exclamation was made as an enormous black-and-tan Doberman came skittering across the slate entry at full gallop.

  Jake stepped in front of Meg, but Carmelita, surprisingly strong for her diminutive size, had pushed Meg aside, and in the resulting confusion the dog skidded to a halt in front of her.

  Meg promptly dropped to her knees and offered her hand, palm up, avoiding the dog’s eye. “Hi, boy, hi, Huxley.” She spoke softly, calmly. “Down, boy. Good dog. Good boy.”

  For a moment the dog seemed puzzled. He sniffed her hand, then whined softly. Meg slowly moved her hand closer, first stroking his chest with one finger, then sliding her hand upward to rub behind his ear and fondle his head.

  For what seemed an endless moment, nobody spoke. Meg had already concluded that Rhea either didn’t like dogs in general or Huxley in particular, and that the feeling was mutual. The chances were that she had just given herself away, but she had acted instinctively and it was too late to worry about the consequences. She looked up at Jake expectantly.

  “That’s the first time he hasn’t growled at you.” There was pleased wonderment in his voice. “Wait till Jessica hears about this. She’ll never believe it.”

  Huxley was now nuzzling Meg and licking her hand. “I just thought...it was time to make friends.”

  Jake stared at her. “You seem obsessed with making friends lately. First me, now Huxley. Next thing I know you’ll have Jessica eating out of your hand.”

  Carmelita shrieked with laughter, then clapped her hand to her mouth and gasped, “Oh, excuse me!”

  JAKE PERSUADED Carmelita, who normally only worked days, to stay at the house with Huxley for a few days, then suggested they go to an ocean-side café for brunch.

  As Rhea examined the menu, he studied her, trying to make sense of the transformation in her. Outwardly, she looked the same—albeit perhaps more serene than before. But it seemed every other aspect of her personality had undergone a radical change. Most noticeably, her former terror of Jess’s Doberman had been replaced by a fearless gesture of friendship that had turned Huxley into putty in her hands.

  Jake reflected grimly that the same was probably true of himself and he couldn’t help but wonder, in view of her past history, just what Rhea was up to. Suspicion of his wife’s actions had become a way of life. She’d tricked him too many times in the past for him to trust that she was sincere now in anything she did or said.

  So why, knowing this, did he want her more than ever before? This past weekend he had felt desire for her that was so intense it dominated all of his thoughts and actions. He had even come close to forgetting that he had flown to the island to discuss the terms of their divorce.

  The memory of their kiss last night haunted him. Recalling the taste of her mouth and the scent of her skin threatened to inflame his senses again, and he quickly looked away, forcing himself to question her motive for melting so sweetly into his arms. Especially since she hadn’t been able to wait to call somebody from the hospital. For once, she hadn’t been able to hide her guilty expression when she saw him approaching, and had practically flung the phone down.

  Jake wasn’t sure whether he would prefer that she’d been calling Sloan, or a lover. Either way, that surreptitious call served to confirm his suspicions that her new attitude was all an act, put on to forestall a divorce.

  They were both too tense to be particularly hungry, and after picking at his food Jake said, “I’d like to get Jess a box of Godiva chocolates and a dozen roses, and check on her again.”

  He expected Rhea to complain that she wanted to go straight home, but she surprised him. “Yes, of course.”

  MEG HAD BEEN in Jake’s company practically every second and hadn’t had a chance to call Mike, so she didn’t know when to expect Rhea. It would be embarrassing in the extreme if they arrived at the Chastain residence to find her there.

  “You’re very quiet,” Jake remarked as he blended into traffic on Pacific Coast Highway.

  “I was just thinking about your mother,” Meg said, giving in to an impulse. “Most people would have been feeling sorry for themselves, under the circumstances, rather than kidding around as she was.”

  The long night without sleep must have affected her judgment, Meg thought when she heard herself add, “I’d really like to get to know her better.”

  What am I doing? Remaking Rhea’s life for her? A reckless sense of entitlement seemed to have overcome reason.

  Jake gripped the steering wheel in mock alarm. “Don’t shock me like that while we’re in traffic, please!”

  “She doesn’t like me very much, does she.” It wasn’t really a question, since it had been obvious.

  Jake responded, “You’re both strong-willed women. You were bound to clash. But if she gets an opportunity to observe your brand-new persona, Jess is going to be as enchanted as I am—trying not to be.”

  “What new persona, Jake?” Meg asked cautiously.

  He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Either the past year or so was some kind of act, or the past two days were, Rhea. This weekend, you’ve managed to become the woman I’ve dreamed of all my life. If I didn’t know you better, I’d be inclined to hope you’ve really changed. But that would be a vain hope, wouldn’t it? I don’t know how long you can keep this up, Rhea, but don’t overestimate your allure.”

  Meg tried to think of some way to steer the conversation away from the intimate subject of the Chastains’ marriage. Back in California and in the light of day, she felt like the imposter that she was.

  “Jake, let’s not hold any postmortems right now. We’re both tired, and you’re upset about your mother.”

  “We weren’t tired or upset last night, Rhea. There was much more than simple lust involved in that kiss. For one mad moment I even dared think about reconciliation.” He paused. “Or perhaps a whole new beginni
ng. But that’s out of the question, isn’t it?”

  Meg tried to read the deeper meaning behind his words. There was both regret and a certain wistful longing in his tone. Rhea had obviously hurt him, but was he really ready to divorce her? On the long flight home Meg had given a great deal of thought to what she would say about that passionate kiss, when she had come close to yielding to desire.

  Now she wondered if her rehearsed response sounded wooden. “Why don’t we wait a few days, until your mother is out of the hospital, before we make any decisions? A few days to settle back into our regular. routine will put everything in perspective.”

  Watching his profile, she saw his expression harden. He drummed on the steering wheel with his fingers. “Sure. But don’t harbor any false hopes that I’m going to change my mind about the divorce. And don’t stall too long. As you well know, I’m not a patient man.”

  He drove in moody silence for the rest of the journey.

  Their destination proved to be an oceanfront house shielded from the coast highway by a dense barrier of trees and shrubs.

  As he slowed for the turn, Jake said, “This is closer to the hospital and Jessica’s house. I’m going to stay here until she’s back on her feet. Of course, if you’d prefer to go home...”

  “Home” was evidently somewhere else. She had no choice but to answer, “No, I’ll stay here.”

  He flashed her a questioning glance. “I know you’ve never cared much for this place. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather take one of the cars and drive home?”

  “No, I’d prefer to stay.” Apart from the fact that she didn’t know where “home” was, Meg didn’t want to have to deal with the occupants of the main house.

  Unlocking the front door, Jake said, “Fortunately Mason’s been sending a cleaning woman over, so we shouldn’t have to face any cobwebs.”

  They entered a house that to Meg screamed “bachelor pad.” An older, wood-frame structure that surely was underbuilt for the pricey location, the house had taken on an abandoned atmosphere.