Come Lie With Me (12 page)

She was seething, until the thought came to her that her scheme to attract him couldn't have gotten off to a better start. He hadn't been thinking about sex, really; he'd been indulging a streak of pure devilry, but the end result was that he'd become aware of her as a woman. There was the added advantage of the entire scene being totally spontaneous without any of the stiffness that would probably result from any effort she deliberately made.

That thought enabled her to get through the day, which was a difficult one. He watched her like a hawk, waiting for her to betray by either action or word that she was still embarrassed by the morning's incident. She was as cool and impersonal as she knew how to be, deliberately working him as hard as her conscience would allow. He spent more time than the day before at the bars, balancing himself with his hands while his legs bore his weight. He kept up a continuous stream of cursing at the pain he endured, but he didn't want to stop, even when she decided to go on to other exercises. She moved his feet in the first walking motions they'd
made in two years; sweat poured off of him at the pain in his muscles, unaccustomed to such activity.

That night the cramps in his legs kept him awake for hours, and Dione massaged him until she was so weary she could hardly move. There were no intimate discussions in the dark that night; he was in pain, barely getting relaxed after one cramp was relieved before another one would knot in his legs. Finally she took him down and put him in the whirlpool, which relieved the cramps for the night.

She really did oversleep the next morning, but she had been careful to lock her door before she went to bed, so she wasn't afraid of an interruption. When she did wake, she lay there with a smile on her face as she relished how he would react to the interruption in his route that she planned.

Over breakfast she said casually, “May I borrow one of your cars? I need to do some shopping today.”

Startled, he looked up; his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you doing this because of what I said the other night?”

“No, of course not,” she lied with admirable ease. “I do need some things, though. I'm not much on shopping, but like every woman I have necessities.”

“Do you know anything about Phoenix?” he asked, reaching for the glass of milk that he now drank without protest at every meal.

“Nothing,” she admitted cheerfully.

“Do you even know how to get downtown?”

“No, but I can follow signs and directions.”

“No need to do that; let me give Serena a call. She loves shopping, and she's been at loose ends lately.”

At first the thought of shopping in Serena's company dampened Dione's enthusiasm for her project, but she
realized that she would probably need another woman's opinion, so she agreed to his suggestion. Serena did, too; he'd barely mentioned it to her over the phone before he hung up the receiver, a wry smile tugging at his chiseled mouth. “She's on her way.” Then the smile gave way to a sharply searching look. “You didn't seem very enthusiastic,” he remarked. “Did you have some other plans?”

What did he mean by that? “No, it's just that I had something else on my mind. I'm glad you thought of asking Serena; I could use her opinion on some things.”

The searching look disappeared, to be replaced by one of lively curiosity. “What things?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” she replied promptly, knowing that her answer would drive him crazy. He wanted to know the whys and wherefores of everything. He'd probably dismantled every toy he'd received as a child, and now he was trying to do the same thing to her. He probably did it to everyone. It was one of the characteristics that had made him such an innovative engineer.

As she quickly dressed for her shopping trip, she realized that lately Blake had shown signs of becoming more interested in his work again. He talked to Richard on the phone more than he had before, and designing the pulley system at the pool and in the gym had piqued his interest even more. Every night after dinner he made some mysterious doodles on a pad in his study, random drawings that resembled nothing Dione recognized, but Richard had seen the pad one evening and made a comment on it. The two men had then embarked on a highly technical conversation that had lasted until Dione put an end to it by signaling that it was time for Blake to
go to bed. Richard had caught the signal and understood it immediately, giving her a quick wink.

The Phoenix heat prompted her to wear the bare minimum of clothing: a white sundress; the necessary underwear, which wasn't much; and strappy sandals. The weeks had slipped away, taking the summer with it, but the changing season wasn't yet reflected by any dip in the temperature. When she went downstairs to meet Serena, Blake gave her a quick comprehensive look that seemed to take inventory of every garment she had on. Dione shivered at the fleeting expression in his eyes. He knew what she looked like now, and every time he saw her he was imagining her without any clothes. She should probably be glad, as that was what she wanted, but it still made her uneasy.

Serena drove, as Dione knew absolutely nothing about Scottsdale or Phoenix. The pale blue Cadillac slipped as silently as oiled silk past the array of expensive millionaires' homes that decorated Mount Camelback. Overhead, a sparkle of silver in the pure blue of the sky, one of the innumerable jets from the air bases in the Phoenix area, painted a white streak directly above their path.

“Blake said you had shopping to do,” Serena said absently. “What sort of shopping? Not that it matters; if it exists, I know a shop that carries it.”

Dione gave her a wry glance. “Everything,” she admitted. “Dresses, underwear, sleepwear, bathing suits.”

Serena arched her slim, dark brows in an astonished movement. “All right,” she said slowly. “You asked for it.”

By the time they'd had lunch several hours later, Dione firmly believed that Serena knew the location of every shop in Arizona. They had been in so many that
she couldn't keep straight just where she had bought what, but that didn't really matter. What mattered was the steadily growing mound of bags and packages, which they made regular trips to the car to stow in the trunk.

Dione systematically tried on dresses that made the most of her dark coloring and tall, leggy build. She bought skirts that were slit up the side to showcase her long, slender legs; she bought real silk hosiery and delicate shoes. The nightgowns she chose were filmy, flimsy pieces of fabric that were held on her body more by optimism than any other means. She bought sexy lace panties and bras, wickedly seductive teddies, shorts and T-shirts that clung to her body, and a couple of bikinis that stopped just short of illegal.

Serena watched all of this in amazed silence, offering her opinion whenever Dione asked it, which was often. Dione couldn't quite decide if a garment was sexy without being blatant, so she yielded to Serena's taste. It was Serena who chose the bikinis, one a delicate shell pink and the other a vibrant blue, both of which glowed like jewels on Dione's honey-tanned body.

“You know,” Serena mused as she watched Dione choose a skin-toned teddy that, from a distance, made her look as if she had nothing on at all, “this looks like war.”

Dione was feeling a little frantic and out of touch by that time, and she merely gave Serena a blank look.

“I could almost pity Blake for being the target of such firepower,” the other woman continued, laughing a little. “Almost, but not quite. From the effort you're making, Dione, I think you're out for unconditional surrender. Are you in love with Blake?”

That got Dione's attention with the force of a punch
in the jaw. In love? Of course not! It was impossible. Blake was her patient; falling in love with him would be against every professional ethic that she had. Not only that, how could she be in love with him? Couldn't Serena see that it was totally out of the question? she wondered distractedly. It was just that Blake's was such a demanding case. She'd rebuilt him almost literally, molded him from a basket case into a strong, healthy man; she couldn't let him give up now, couldn't let all of that sweat and effort go to waste.

But suddenly, seeing through Serena's eyes the staggering amount of clothing she'd bought in one day, she realized what a hopeless effort it was. How could she ever have imagined that she'd be able to physically attract Blake Remington? Not only did she not know how to do it, but she'd probably go into screaming hysterics if she succeeded!

She sagged into a chair, crumpling the flesh-colored teddy in her lap. “It's no use,” she muttered. “It'll never work.”

Serena eyed the teddy. “If he's human, it will.”

“All of these props are useless, if the actors can't perform,” Dione said in self-disgust. “I don't know how to seduce anyone, least of all a man who's been around as much as Blake has!”

Serena's eyes widened. “Are you serious? The way you look, you don't
have
to seduce anyone; all you have to do is stand still and let him get to you.”

“Thanks for the pep talk, but it's not that easy,” Dione hedged, unable to tell Blake's sister the entire story. “Some men like my looks, but I know that Blake's always preferred blondes. I'm not his type at all.”

“How you can look in a mirror and still worry about
not being blond is more than I can understand,” Serena said impatiently. “You're…sultry. That's the only word I can think of to describe the way you look. If he hasn't made a pass at you yet, it's because you haven't given him a go-ahead signal. Those clothes will do it for you. Then just let things develop naturally.”

If only they would! Dione thought as she paid for the teddy and a bottle of heady perfume that the saleswoman had sworn drove her husband mad with lust.

She didn't want Blake mad with lust, just aroused. What a dilemma for her to be in! Life was just full of little ironies, but she couldn't find this one very amusing.

Blake wasn't in evidence when they arrived back at the house, and Dione could only be thankful for that. She didn't want him to have any idea of the extent of her shopping trip. Angela silently helped Dione and Serena carry all the packages up to Dione's room, and when asked about Blake's whereabouts, the woman smiled shyly and murmured, “In the gym,” before quickly walking out.

Serena gave a little laugh after Angela had left the room. “She's something, isn't she? I think Blake picked his entire staff on the basis of how much they talk, or rather, don't talk.” Before Dione could make any comment, Serena changed the subject. “Do you mind if I stay for dinner? I know you probably want to start your campaign, but Richard told me this morning that he'd be late coming home tonight, and I'm at loose ends.”

Far from being anxious to begin her “campaign,” Dione was dreading it, and gladly asked Serena to stay. As she usually had dinner with them, Blake might think something was off if all of a sudden she stopped the practice.

While Serena went to the den to entertain herself, Dione made her way down to the pool and entered the gym. She stopped abruptly. Blake was on the bars, balancing himself with his hands, while Alberta was on her knees, moving his feet in walking motions. From the looks of him, he'd been hard at it since she'd left with Serena that morning, and poor Alberta was frazzled, too. Blake wore only a brief pair of blue gym shorts, and he'd tied his shirt around his forehead to keep the sweat from getting into his eyes. He was literally dripping as he strained, trying to force his muscles to do his bidding. Dione knew that he had to be in a great deal of pain; it was revealed in the rigid set of his jaw, his white lips. The fact that he'd enlisted Alberta's help instead of waiting for her to return said something about his determination, but she was afraid that he'd tried to do too much. He'd paid for his excesses the night before with agonizing cramps, and she had the feeling that tonight would be a repeat.

“Time for the whirlpool,” she said easily, trying not to sound anxious. Alberta looked up with an expression of acute relief, and achingly got to her feet. Blake, on the other hand, shook his head.

“Not yet,” he muttered. “Another half hour.”

Dione signaled to Alberta, who quietly left the room. Taking a towel from the stack she always kept handy, she went up to him and wiped his face, then his shoulders and chest. “Don't push it so hard,” she advised. “Not yet. You can do yourself more harm than good at this stage. Come on, into the whirlpool; give your muscles a rest.”

He sagged against the bars, panting, and Dione quickly brought the wheelchair over to him. He levered himself into it; he seldom needed her help moving him
self around now, since he was so much stronger. She switched the whirlpool on and turned around to find that he'd been staring at her bottom as she bent over. Wondering how much she'd exposed in the unaccustomed dress, she flushed pink.

He gave her a wicked little smile, then grasped the pulley and swung himself over the pool, letting himself down expertly in the water. He sighed in relief as the pulsing water eased his tired, strained muscles.

“I didn't expect you to be gone all day,” he said, closing his eyes wearily.

“I only shop once a year.” She lied without compunction. “When I shop, it's an endurance event.”