Between The Sheets (2 page)

When she had started writing she had taken her mother's maiden name, De Lacey, in the hope that people wouldn't make the link between her and the lauded Conall O'Carroll. But Ireland was a small place and you couldn't keep a secret like that for long.

It irked her that no matter how much she tried to escape the man, he still seemed to encroach on her life. She didn't often get mentioned in the papers, but, when she did, her name was always linked with his. Would
The Mile High Club
change that or would she spend all her days in his shadow? Only time would tell.

'Dana?'

Realizing that Gus had pulled into their driveway and turned off the engine, Dana stretched like a cat, climbed out of the car and slowly followed him inside. 'Bed?' she asked, pausing at the bottom of their sweeping staircase and smiling suggestively. Working on sex scenes always got her in the mood and she'd based more than a few of them on her own love life with Gus. He flung his keys and phone on the hall table and turned towards the kitchen. 'I need a drink.'

'I'll have a spritzer,' she called after him and went on up to the large master suite. Going through to her dressing room, she undressed, took off her make-up and then slipped into a simple sheath of chocolate-coloured silk. 'Not bad for thirty-seven,' she murmured, appraising her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She was arranging herself in a suitably alluring pose on their king-size bed when Gus walked into the room.

'Come and sit down.' She patted the bed invitingly.

Gus handed her the wine and sat down on the edge of the bed with his back to her.

She put her glass on the bedside table and, moving closer, slid her arms around his waist. Her fingers deftly opened the buttons of his shirt and she slipped a hand inside to caress the smooth skin of his chest. 'I've been thinking about doing this all night,' she told him.

Gus pushed her hand away. 'Don't.'

Slightly taken aback, Dana sat back against the pillows and reached for her drink. 'What's going on, Gus? You've been like a bear with a sore head for days, no, weeks. Is it work?'

He shook his head and, standing up, crossed over to the window.

'Then what? Oh, come on, Gus, talk to me.'

He chuckled softly. 'Funny, I thought that was my line.'

'What do you mean? What are you talking about?'

'I can't do this any more,' he said, not moving.

She stared at his back, at the slump of his shoulders, and heard the resignation in his voice. 'Do what?'

'This.' He made a gesture at her and then himself. 'Us. I've tried but I just can't do it.'

Dana set her glass down carefully. 'Is this some sort of joke?'

'I wish it was.'

'Is there someone else?' she asked, her voice even but her stomach twisting into a painful knot.

'No, of course not,' he said crossly.

'So what is all this about? Are you having a midlife crisis, is that it?' She forced a laugh. 'Shall I buy you a Harley or a red sports car or maybe we could dye your hair—'

'Dana—'

'Look,' she hurried on, thinking that as long as she kept talking she could sort this. 'I know I'm not the easiest person to live with and that maybe sometimes you fancy other women, but that's okay.'

'I don't!' He shot her a curious look. 'But wouldn't it bother you if I did?'

She shrugged. 'You're a red-blooded, handsome man and I realize that you must have urges ...'

'You make me sound like a character from one of your books,' he groaned.

She smiled affectionately. 'No, you're much sexier.'

He shot her a despairing look and turned back to the window. 'I think I should move out,' he said quietly.

'What?' she exploded.

He drained his glass and turned back to face her. 'It's for the best.'

She stared at him, waiting for him to burst out laughing and tell her this was all a prank, albeit a slightly sick one, but his expression remained grim. 'You say you are going to leave me and that it's for the best and you're not even going to tell me why?'

He seemed to consider the question carefully before answering. 'When I met you I was completely knocked for six. You were so beautiful and funny and I couldn't believe my luck when you agreed to marry me.'

'We were meant to be together,' she agreed tearfully.

He carried on as if she hadn't spoken. 'I loved you so much and I thought that as the years passed we would grow closer and our relationship would get stronger and deeper.' He looked straight into her eyes.

'And it has,' she said urgently. 'I adore you, you're everything to me. You're my best friend.'

'Really?'

She nodded fervently.

He smiled, his eyes holding hers. 'Would you trust me with your deepest, darkest secrets?'

She smiled back nervously. 'Of course.'

Gus just watched her, his eyes sad.

Dana hugged her arms tightly around her. 'So, what now?'

'Now I'd better go,' he said quietly and walked over to the door.

'And that's it!' She flung up her arms in frustration. 'And may I ask, are you going for good, or just planning to take a sabbatical from our marriage?' Her voice was rising but she didn't care now. 'Or are you deserting Tom and your company too? Possibly to go walkabout in the bush or were you thinking of trekking through the Himalayas?'

He didn't move from his position by the door. 'This is hardly the time for sarcasm.'

'No,' she said, feeling deflated and hopeless. 'I suppose it isn't.'

'I don't know where I'm going,' he admitted. 'I hadn't planned any of this; it just sort of happened.'

Dana went to him and cupped his face in her hands. 'Then let's pretend it didn't. Don't go, Gus,' she whispered. 'You love me, I know you do.'

For a moment she saw doubt in his eyes, but then it was gone.

'I'm sorry, Dana,' he said with finality and took her hands away. 'I'll find somewhere to stay and then I'll come back for my stuff.'

She stiffened. 'No! If you're going,' she said, her voice shrill, 'you can take it all right now.'

'Dana, be reasonable—'

'Reasonable?' she cried. 'You want me to be reason-able? Okay, then, let me help you pack.' She ran to his dressing room and started taking armfuls of clothes from the rail. 'Where would you like these, in a case? Or should I just chuck them out of the window and save you lugging them downstairs?'

He gripped one of her wrists. 'Dana, stop.'

She swallowed back her tears and looked up into his eyes, searching for some sign of hope, but his expression was closed and unyielding. She shoved the clothes into his arms. 'I mean it, Gus, take your things now or I swear I'll burn them.' And turning on her heel, she flew out of the room and down the stairs to her office.

She waited for him to come after her, to bang on the door to tell her it was all a terrible misunderstanding, but all she heard was his steady tread on the floorboards above as he packed his bags. Sinking into her chair, she drew her knees up under her chin and started to tremble.

There was light in the sky when Dana awoke, a dread-ful crick in her neck and pins and needles in her toes. Apart from the energetic dawn chorus outside there was an eerie stillness about the house and she let out an involuntary gasp as memories of the previous night came flooding back. Rising from her crouched position she made her way slowly into the hall and climbed the stairs, pausing for a second before throwing open the bedroom door. She crossed the room to Gus's wardrobe but she could see, without even going in, that he'd taken everything except clothes destined for the charity bag. 'Oh, Gus, why?' she whispered as the tears rolled down her cheeks. Stumbling back into the room Dana crawled on to the bed and buried her face in his pillow.

Hours later it was the sound of the hall door closing that woke her. Immediately she was up and running for the door. 'I knew you'd be back,' she called gaily. 'I knew it was all a mistake—'

She pulled up short at the sight of Iris McCarthy looking up at her from the hall, a bewildered look on the woman's face.

'But, Mrs Johnson, I always come on Monday mornings at ten.'

Dana felt the tears well in her eyes. 'Yes, sorry, of course you do,' she managed. 'I'm sorry, Iris. It's just I don't feel very well. I think I'll stay in bed today.'

'Of course, Mrs Johnson. Shall I answer the phone if it rings?'

'No! No, that's okay.'

'Very well, then. Can I get you anything?'

Dana shook her head. 'No.'

Iris nodded. 'Then I'll get on with the laundry.'

Dana went back into her bedroom and closed the door. Sinking down on to the bed she reached for the phone and with shaking hands called Gus on his mobile but it went straight to the answering service. After a moment's hesitation Dana dialled his office number instead.

'Good morning, Johnson and Cleary, can I help you?'

'Ann, it's Dana. Could you put me through to Gus, please?'

'Oh, hello. I'm afraid he's not here this morning. Why don't you try him on his mobile?'

Dana swallowed hard. 'Yes, I'll do that, thank you.'

When the phone rang thirty minutes later, Dana pounced on it. 'Gus?'

'Sorry to disappoint you.' It was the unmistakable drawl of her agent, calling from London. 'It's disgusting, after all these years, that you still get excited when your husband phones,' he teased.

Dana swallowed hard. 'Hi, Walter.'

'So, how goes it, darling?'

'Yes, wonderful,' Dana replied, hoping he couldn't hear the tremor in her voice.

'I thought you'd still be asleep after your exciting evening.'

'What do you mean?' she demanded, wondering how he could possibly know.

'It was the Architects' Dinner last night, wasn't it?'

'Oh, yes. Yes, that's right.'

'So how did it go?'

'Oh, you know, the usual.' Dana forced a small laugh. 'Listen, Wally, I'm in the middle of a difficult passage—'

'Then you get right back to work,' he told her. 'I just wanted to tell you to expect a call from Ian Wilson.'

'Who?'

'My PR guy in Dublin. I told you about him, remember?'

'Yes, of course.'

'He's going to get to work on your publicity and wants to have a chat with you first.'

'That's a little premature, surely? I mean, Gretta hasn't even said they're definitely going ahead yet.'

'It's only a matter of time,' Walter said confidently, 'and I want your name on everyone's lips. If that doesn't convince your editor that you're the obvious author to launch their new venture, nothing will. Now you get back to that keyboard, my darling, and I'll talk to you later in the week.'

Dana hung up and was trying to decide whether or not to leave a message on Gus's answering service when the phone rang again. 'Hello?'

'Hello, Mrs Johnson, I'm phoning from your telephone company. I wonder if you have a few minutes—'

'I don't,' Dana snapped and hung up. For the rest of the morning she paced her room or just sat staring out into the garden. It was after three when the phone rang again. She snatched it up and clutched it to her ear. 'Hello?'

'Hi, honey, how you doin'?'

She groaned inwardly at the sound of her editor's voice. 'Oh, hi, Gretta.'

'Hey, girl, you don't sound so good,' the New York editor said sharply. 'Everything okay?'

'Everything's fine,' Dana soothed. 'It's just that I'm at a rather crucial point in the story—'

'Then I won't interrupt you. It's just been a few days and I wanted to check in.'

It had only been Friday when they last talked, Dana thought irritably. Sometimes Gretta was just too pushy.

'How is
The Mile High Club
these days?' Gretta said with a throaty chuckle.

'Well, I can't say from experience—'

'I don't believe that for a moment, not with that gorgeous man of yours.'

'Yes, well, appearances can be deceiving,' Dana said miserably.

'Are you sure you're okay?'

'Yeah, really, Gretta, everything's fine and the book's going great. I'm just a bit preoccupied.'

'I love the way you get so involved in your books,' the editor said happily. 'If you need a sounding board, just call, okay?'

'I will, thanks.'

As Dana put the phone down there was a gentle knock on the door, and Iris came in. 'I thought you might like a little snack,' she said, setting a small tray down on the table by the window. Dana looked without interest at the sandwich but took a grateful sip of the strong hot coffee.

Iris studied her, a worried frown creasing her brow. 'You're very pale. Maybe we should get the doctor out to have a look at you.'

'There's no need, Iris, I'll be fine after I've had some rest.'

'Then at least let me answer the phone for you,' Iris insisted.

Dana sighed. 'Yes, okay, then, thank you. But if Mr Johnson calls, put him straight through.'

Iris smiled. 'Of course. I'm sure he must be worried about you.'

Dana blinked back her tears. 'I doubt that.'

'Don't be silly, the man is mad about you. Now when you've finished your coffee, try to get some rest; I always think it's the best medicine.'

'Thanks, Iris,' Dana said, feeling even more tearful at the woman's kindness.

'You're welcome.' The housekeeper left, closing the door quietly behind her.

It was nearly six o'clock when Dana woke again and Iris was long gone. The tray had disappeared and in its place was a note of her phone messages. At the bottom Iris had written: Mr Johnson didn't call.

And, Dana realized with certainty, he wasn't going to.

Sylvie was painting her toenails when the buzzer at the gate went. She continued painting and cursed under her breath when it buzzed again. Bloody Iris. It was an ongoing battle between them as to whose job it was to answer the door. When the buzzer went a third time, Sylvie carefully replaced the top on the nail polish and went into the hall. 'Yes?'

'Hi, it's Ian Wilson. We spoke earlier on the phone?'

Sylvie frowned as she pressed the button to let the man in and went to open the door.

Ian parked his rusty Fiat Uno alongside Dana's BMW and jumped out. 'Sylvie?' he asked, crossing the driveway.