Текст книги "Native Affairs"

Автор книги: Doreen Malek Owens

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Текущая страница: 31 (всего у книги 37 страниц)

“Well?”

“I’m sure you have it covered,” Ann said wearily.

“That’s right, I do. So don’t get any ideas about ditching me after a few months and walking away with a fortune, you’ll find that my lawyers can make that very difficult. You can understand my concern, since ditching me was one of your areas of expertise, as I recall.”

Ann ignored him, staring out the window as they drove across the causeway. She tried to imagine that she was with Heath under pleasant circumstances, anticipating an evening that would end with them going home together like a normal couple. The contrast with reality was too painful and she gave up the fantasy, turning to look at him as he drove with the single-minded attention she remembered him giving to mending boat engines when they were younger.

His profile was grim, but clean as a coin’s, his mouth firm, his nose arched and strong, his lush hair spilling onto his forehead. Just the sight of him made her heart beat faster. Why couldn’t he be less desirable? she wondered. Why couldn’t he have gotten fat or bald or somehow less attractive, so she could just close her eyes and think of England, like those Victorian ladies with portly husbands who did their British duty? But she still wanted Heath too much, still thrilled whenever he touched her. It was going to be hard work not to fall desperately in love with him all over again no matter how badly he treated her. She couldn’t help thinking that the real Heath was still in there somewhere. The passionate, headstrong Heath she had known, was hiding behind the facade of this sarcastic, bloodless millionaire.

He turned and caught her staring at him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked sharply.

“Just that you haven’t changed very much.”

“You’re wrong there. I have.”

“I meant physically.”

“Neither have you. A little skinnier, maybe.”

Ann let that pass.

“Do you enjoy what you do?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“The writing. Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes. Very much.”

“Why?”

“Well, the research takes me away. It’s almost like living in the time and place I’m studying when I’m preparing the work. And then writing the story is like...” she hesitated.

“Dreaming on paper?” he suggested.

Ann smiled. “Yes, exactly. Dreaming on paper.”

“That should suit you just fine. You always had your head in the clouds,” he said. “Your brother couldn’t have shipped ScriptSoft out from under you if you had been paying the slightest bit of attention to what he was doing.”

“I never cared what he did with the company, Heath.”

“Why not? It was your money he was throwing away, too, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t want to be reminded of my life in Florida, of my father, of any of it.”

“Or of me.”

“I never forgot you,” Ann said softly. “How could I?”

“I don’t know, Annie, my phone wasn’t ringing. Seems like you forgot me easily enough.”

“I went to see your father when I came home from school that Christmas,” Ann said, wondering why she was still trying to convince him when his mind was obviously closed on this subject. “He wouldn’t talk to me.”

“Couldn’t is more like it. I assume that he was dead drunk at the time?”

“He seemed—” She stopped.

“Sloshed?” Heath supplied.

“I guess so.”

“And abusive.”

“Yes.”

Heath sighed. “Yes, that was dear old dad. He finally died of cirrhosis while I was in the navy. I sent Elsie a check from my service pay to bury him.”

“I’m sorry.”

Heath shrugged. “Nothing to be sorry about, he’d been killing himself for years with the booze.”

“It’s an illness, Heath.”

“If s a weakness. You’ll never see me go that way.”

“There are all different forms of weakness, Heath. Maybe your father’s was just more obvious than some others.”

“On the soapbox again? Don’t defend him to me, you didn’t know him.”

“I saw enough of him that day to imagine what your childhood with him was like.”

“Even your writer’s imagination isn’t that good,” he said flatly, and Ann dropped the subject.

When Heath pulled into the circle in front of the Imperial Plaza two uniformed valets shot over to the car as if magnetized. The doors swung open and their minimal luggage vanished as the taller man said to Heath, “It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Bodine. Will you be staying with us long?”

“A few days.”

The valet glanced at Ann curiously as Heath said, “This is Mrs. Bodine.”

“A pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” the valet said as Ann tried to adjust to hearing herself introduced that way.

The second man returned from depositing their bags on the steps and looked into Ann’s face for the first time as he closed her door.

“Miss Talbot?” he said in astonishment.

Ann paused for a moment and gazed back at him. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Yes?” she said.

“Don’t you remember me? Carlos Sanchez, Luisa’s nephew. I used to drop her off at work at your house sometimes.”

“Oh, yes, Carlos. Of course. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? How are you?”

“I’m fine. Though my Aunt Luisa died a few years ago.”

“Yes, I know. I heard. I’m very sorry.”

“Thanks. What are you doing back in the Keys? Nobody’s seen you around here for the longest time.”

“She came here to get married,” Heath said, walking around the car and joining them. “Ann is my wife.”

Carlos stared at Heath and then smiled slowly. “So you two got together, anyway,” he said.

“Anyway?” Heath inquired.

“Aunt Luisa used to talk about how Henry Talbot was trying to break up your romance.”

“With her expert assistance,” Heath said humorlessly, staring at Carlos.

“Yeah, well, she was very devoted to Mr. Talbot,” Carlos said, looking from one to the other nervously.

“Yes, she was,” Ann said, shooting Heath a look. “And my father appreciated it very much. It was wonderful to see you again, Carlos, but it’s been a long day and I’m very tired. Do you think we could go up to our room now?”

“Sure, sure,” Carlos said, happy to extricate himself from what had quickly become an uncomfortable situation. He and the other valet preceded Heath and Ann up the wide stairs of the hotel and into the spacious, marble-floored lobby. It was tastefully decorated in Florida pastels and open to the air on all four sides behind floor-to-ceiling glass doors.

“Mr. Bodine!” the desk clerk said with a broad smile. “It’s delightful to have you staying with us again. And this must be your wife. What a lovely lady, you have excellent taste. Mrs. Bodine, how do you do?”

Ann shook his hand and then watched as he bustled over to get the room key.

“These people all greet you like a long-lost relative,” she said to Heath.

“I spend a lot of time in hotels,” he replied shortly.

When they reached the suite, Carlos was already setting their bags on the luggage rest in the foyer. Heath tipped him and Carlos flashed Ann a smile and said, “Good to see you back in Florida, Miss Talbot—I mean, Mrs. Bodine.”

Heath slammed the door shut behind him. “Still bowing and scraping before you, aren’t they?” he said disgustedly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ann said.

“Of course you do. You can’t resist playing lady of the manor with the underlings.”

“I was just being polite to him, Heath. You should try it sometime.”

“I seem to have done all right with my inadequate manners. We didn’t have too many finishing schools in Hispaniola.”

“Why do you have such a chip on your shoulder? What was I supposed to do, Heath, ignore him? I knew him years ago—his aunt worked for my family a long time.”

“His aunt was your father’s dupe! He thought of her as a convenience, somebody to wash his clothes and cook his food—a peasant from shantytown! She thought she was his friend and she ceased to exist for him the moment he could no longer use her.”

“That isn’t true, Heath. My father left her enough money in his will to retire to a nice place in Miami. It wasn’t his fault that she didn’t live long enough to enjoy it.”

“You’re justifying your father’s behavior to me now?” Heath said incredulously. They were standing in the suite’s foyer, arguing like two barristers.

“I’m not defending him. I’m merely telling you that he repaid Luisa for her loyalty.”

“King Henry doling out the royal favors,” Heath said sarcastically.

“I have more reason to hate him than you do. I’m just trying to be fair.”

“You’re just acting like a princess born to the purple. It must be true what they say—it’s in the blood.”

“It’s in the way you treat other people. You can’t buy—” She stopped.

“What? Class, good breeding, refinement?” he said sneeringly. “Sure you can. I bought you, didn’t I?”

Stung, Ann didn’t reply for a second, then said, “You bought my body, Heath. That’s all.”

“That’s enough.” He tossed his jacket onto the foyer table and left the suite.

Ann sagged against the wall, drained as if she had just run a marathon. How could they go on like this? They had been married only a couple of hours and already they were at each other’s throats.

She walked desultorily into the parlor with its adjoining bedroom. The rooms were large and light, richly appointed and lushly carpeted, with a balcony overlooking the beach and an ornate bathroom. This was done in the same marble as the lobby floor, with a Jacuzzi tub and gilt fixtures. Ann paused in the doorway and looked around. His and her plush bathrobes hung on the back of the door and the vanity contained a tall glass jar filled with little soaps in the shapes of seashells. Everything was wrapped in paper, including the toilet. Stacks of thick towels filled the shelves next to the shower and a tray on the sink held miniature bottles of everything from herbal shampoo to mint hand lotion.

Ann had never stayed at the Imperial, but she knew it had been one of her father’s favorites.

She went back into the bedroom and hung the few things she had brought with her in the capacious closet. She had no idea where Heath had gone or when he would be back. So she went to the phone and called her brother to see how he’d been doing, her editor in New York, and Amy Horton. She stretched the conversations out as long as she could. Then, depressed by the events of the day and bone weary from the stress of containing her emotions, she undressed to her camisole and briefs and lay down on the embroidered bedspread.

In minutes she was asleep.

Ann was conscious of nothing for the next several hours. When she came to, the room was dark and Heath was sitting next to her on the bed, his hand on her shoulder.

Ann knew it was Heath before she was even awake, before she remembered the wedding or their circumstances. She knew it instinctively, from his scent, his posture, the feel of his fingers. Without a word she turned into his arms.

Heath held her loosely for a moment and she put her head on his shoulder. Then his grip tightened and his mouth came down hard and fast on hers.

Ann’s mind spun out, reeling back to the summer they had shared. The kiss he had given her at their wedding was light, fleeting. This one recalled the passion of the two teenagers who had come together like a spark and tinder, never to be the same again.

In an instant Ann forgot the sarcastic remarks, the sullen looks, the fury and bitterness he had shown her since their reunion. She was seventeen, and this was Heath, whom she loved so much. Her lips opened to admit his probing tongue as his hands slipped under her camisole, seeking her skin. His fingers were still rough as a boy’s, callused, and she shivered as he ran his hands up her bare arms and across her back, lifting the scrap of silk over her head and tossing it onto the floor. She gasped against his mouth as his hand closed over her breast and she felt his thumb rasp her nipple, increasing the pressure until she moaned and her head fell back, exposing an expanse of soft, pale skin.

He bent his head and ran his tongue along the slender line of her throat, holding her to him with one arm and lifting her legs with the other. He lay back on the bed, pulling her down with him. She sighed as she felt him along the length of her, his mouth moving from the hollow between her breasts to each sensitive nipple, sucking gently. Ann held his head, his thick hair like strands of raw silk against her fingers, his lips caressing her until she tugged on him to raise his head. His long-lashed eyes looked down into hers in the dim room, his skin dusky against the collar of his crisp white shirt, his mouth wet and reddened from her kisses.

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, reaching up to touch his still face, tracing his full lips tenderly with a forefinger. “Come back to me.”

He obeyed, bending to press his burning cheek to her belly, slipping one hand under her hips to lift her as he pulled off her briefs with the other. She closed her eyes as his fingers slid over her thigh and then between her legs. She whimpered and bit her lip, inhaling sharply as his caresses brought her to an anxious pitch of arousal. When he moved back suddenly, she clutched his arms and found them knotted and rigid with tension. It was costing him something to make love to her in this practiced, disciplined way; he wanted—or feared—to lose control as much as she did.

That knowledge gave her hope and encouragement. She remembered how he had once responded to her slightest movement and she leaned forward, sitting astride him. He was still dressed, but she felt him as if he were naked, powerful and ready between her thighs. His hands slipped down her back and cupped her buttocks, his lips compressed, his chest heaving. She bent forward and kissed his throat, moving her hand inside the waistband of his pants. She felt his abdominal muscles contract beneath her fingers, and he made a helpless, guttural sound. Seconds later he thrust her away from him almost roughly, as if afraid of revealing too much.

“Heath,” she said, clinging to him.

For one awful moment she thought he was going to shrug her off and leave. But desire won, as it always had with them. He tore off his shirt and pants, stripping so quickly that she hardly had a glimpse of him in the scant light from the foyer before he joined her. He gently pushed her back to the bed and held her arms above her head and moved over her, kissing her wildly until she was wrapping her bare legs around his hips, reaching for him and pressing against him intimately. He pushed her down and kissed her body feverishly, his awareness of his own strength diminished as he finally pinned her and pulled her legs around him.

He drove into her wildly, all control gone, making her cry out with the sensation. When he paused, thinking he had hurt her, she dug her nails into his hips and urged him onward, pressing her heels into the backs of his legs. He surged into her repeatedly, catching her up in his rhythm. His back was slick with sweat so her hands slipped along it, his hair at his nape damp and clinging to her fingers. He lowered his head and pressed his face into the soft, warm curve of her shoulder. Everything about him was beloved to her, and well remembered: the yielding softness of his mouth, the hardness of his body, the effortless sureness of his movements. Tears seeped from under Ann’s closed lids as he quickened his pace, carrying her along with him.

Heath, she thought desperately. Heath, I still love you so much. She bit her lip as she spiraled upward, moaning with him in mutual release. Then she could feel their hearts pounding together as he relaxed against her, the beat slowing as she stroked his hair and ran her fingers down the length of his spine. When he moved, she turned to embrace him, then fell back against the bed in shock as he released her abruptly and stood, walking to the bathroom without a word.

She lay still and listened to the start of the shower beyond the connecting wall, then listened again as he emerged in a cloud of steam and soap scent to dress in the dark.

It wasn’t until she heard the door click closed behind him that she really believed he was gone.

He had used her like a whore, taking his pleasure and then washing off her smell and touch. He had discarded the memory of their lovemaking, sluicing off in a rush of water and suds.

He clearly thought of them like two striped cats coupling in an alley.

Ann turned her face into the pillow and cried.

Chapter 8

Ann spent a week at the Imperial Plaza with Heath and then they moved back to his house on Lime Island. The housekeeper and her husband had returned. They were polite but distant; Heath’s marriage had been a surprise and they were taking their time to make a judgment about their new mistress.

Ann filled her days working on her book, visiting with Tim and conferring with his lawyers about his case, and planning the annual Christmas party Heath gave for his executives. In the past, his office had handled the event, but this year Heath wanted his wife to act as hostess. Ann knew that her involvement was part of his trophy-wife syndrome but she went along with it as she had gone along with everything else, considering it part of her bargain. The task kept her busy as Christmas approached and she was glad of the distraction; she didn’t feel much like celebrating the holidays this year and Heath was often gone on business. She was lonely in the big house, looking forward to his returns in spite of her misgivings about their arrangement.

At least when he was home he slept with her.

In bed, he was passionate, demanding, fulfilling, everything she could have wanted. Out of bed he treated her like a doorstop, a convenience to be noticed only when needed.

Ann wasn’t very happy.

The party was scheduled for the day before Christmas Eve, and that morning Ann oversaw the florist’s delivery, watching as the house was transformed into a holiday bower. The rooms were banked with poinsettias and a large, decorated spruce was set up in the entry hall, ready to greet the guests as they arrived. At four, the food service arrived, and Ann checked off the items with the caterer as trucks disgorged folding tables and napery and silver. The uniformed waiters would come later, along with the liquor and the glassware and the entertainment. By seven o’clock, Heath was still not home, Daniela and Victor were hard at work with the caterers, and there was nothing for Ann to do but get dressed.

The radio blared Christmas carols as Ann bathed and dressed in what she still thought of as Heath’s bedroom. Heath was generous with money if not with himself, and Ann just charged anything she wanted, discovering quickly that she didn’t want much. Heath had told her to buy an outfit for this occasion and she had settled on an evening pantsuit of blond silk, with a tunic top embroidered at the sleeve cuffs with gold sequins. It was elegant and understated, just what she wanted. She was fixing gold studs to her ears when the intercom buzzed. Ann leaned over to flick the switch and said, “What is it?”

“You have a visitor, Mrs. Bodine,” Daniela’s voice replied.

“Now? Who is it?”

“A Miss Horton.”

“Amy? For heaven’s sake, send her in!”

Seconds later Amy burst through the door, her arms loaded with gaily wrapped packages, her face split by a huge grin.

“Surprise!” she said, and threw her bundles in a colored jumble onto the bed.

Ann hugged her friend and said, “Am I glad to see you! I’m facing this shindig tonight and I could sure use an ally. But I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I changed my mind. I broke up with Graham and I found myself with a free night, thought you wouldn’t mind if I just sort of turned up for the festivities.”

“How could I mind, you’re a lifesaver. You’ll be the only person at this party not connected to Heath’s business, which is reason enough to welcome you with open arms.”

“It looks like they’re cooking up quite a soiree out there. The house looks beautiful and so do you.”

“Thanks.”

“Where is Himself?”

“Not home yet.”

Amy sat on the edge of the bed and unbuttoned the light sweater she was wearing. “How is it going with him?”

A shadow crossed Ann’s face and she shook her head without comment.

“But you love him, don’t you?” Amy asked.

Ann looked away, then nodded.

“Any hope?”

“I doubt it. He’s just going to play this revenge game until he gets tired of me, but I think I can keep it going long enough to at least get Tim out of trouble. Heath enjoys displaying me as his wife, having me act as his hostess—Henry Talbot’s daughter on the arm of the self-made man. That’s very important to him but I’m sure the novelty of it will pale with time.”

“Then what happens to you?”

“I get discarded, like the first wives of most millionaires who move on I suppose.”

“It sounds like a raw deal for you.”

“It’s not so bad, except...”

“Except what?”

“Except that I do love him,” Ann said, biting her lip, her eyes stinging with tears. “It’s so hard being around him all the time, having him look through me as if I were a pane of glass. He gives me everything, just not what I really want. Him.”

“How’s the sex?”

Ann smiled wanly. “Come on, Amy. You know that’s not the problem.”

“I didn’t think it was. So, what’s the plan? What are you going to do?”

“Stick it out. I have no choice.”

“Well for tonight at least, I’m here to help you. I brought along a nifty little dress that should liven things up quite a bit once I slip into it. What time are the guests arriving?”

“Eight.”

“I’d better step lively then. Where’s the john?”

Ann pointed and Amy disappeared inside the bathroom, emerging ten minutes later in a spangled black mini sheath and peau de soie T-strap shoes.

“What do you think?” she said to Ann, posing with one hand on her hip.

“You’re a show stopper.”

“Exactly the effect I’m trying to achieve. Darling, I hate to be a bore, but I drove three hours to get here and I’m starving. Do you think I could slip into the kitchen for a little something? Otherwise I will be drinking on an empty stomach, which is never a good idea in my case. They never serve anything to eat at these things until everybody is plastered.”

“Go ahead. I’ll call Daniela and tell her to make you a sandwich, okay?”

“Okay.”

Amy had just left when Heath walked into the bedroom, putting down his briefcase and pulling his tie loose from its knot. He surveyed her in silence.

“Is this outfit all right?” Ann inquired, indicating her new clothes.

“Fine.”

“How does the house look?”

“Looks good.”

“Did you see the buffet table?”

“I saw it.”

Ann gave up. “Amy is here,” she said resignedly.

“I saw her in the kitchen on the way in. I didn’t know that you had invited her.”

“Do you mind?”

He shrugged.

“She’s not an employee of Bimini Boat Works,” Ann said dryly, fastening a gold bracelet around her wrist.

“I never said that you couldn’t have your friends here,” he replied, taking off his jacket.

“No, Heath, you never said that,” Ann agreed, running a brush through her hair.

He turned and faced her. “You really think I’m a bully, don’t you?” he said quietly.

Ann didn’t answer.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it onto the bed. “I’m not a bully, Princess. I just have a long memory.” He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Ann heard the doorbell and realized that the first guests were arriving. She put down the hairbrush and went out of the bedroom to fulfill her role.

* * * *

Several hours later, she was in the kitchen slicing a lemon when Amy sidled in behind her.

“Isn’t the caterer supposed to do that?” Amy asked.

“They ran out of lemons.”

“The party is a smash. You’re a hit.”

Ann nodded.

“You don’t seem very happy about it.”

Out on the terrace, the three-piece band switched from “Winter Wonderland” to “White Christmas.”

“No word from your lord and master about what a wonderful job you did?” Amy said.

“No.”

“He’s a jerk, Ann.”

“I guess he just regards my doing this as part of our deal. I didn’t actually cook the food or serve it, anyway. I just hired a bunch of people.”

“You’ve got, what, a hundred people out there? Just coordinating the whole event was a task. Doesn’t he know you were trying to please him?”

“I can’t imagine what he thinks. His mind is a closed book.” She sighed. “I used to know him so well.”

“Well, one thing hasn’t changed. He’s still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. He makes every other guy at this party look three days dead.”

“That aspect of it doesn’t exactly help, Amy. It only makes me want him more and he’s very good at keeping me at a comfortable distance.”

“Comfortable for him.”

“Yes.”

“Working all the time?” Amy said.

“Yes.”

“Noncommittal when he’s at home?”

“You got it.”

“He sounds just like your father.”

Ann shuddered. “That would be the supreme irony, wouldn’t it?” she said sadly.

The sliding door to the terrace opened and Joan Jensen stepped through it.

“Hi, sweetie,” she said to Ann, and smiled at Amy. “Everybody is having a great time, including my husband. He doesn’t quite have a lampshade on his head yet but he’s getting there.”

“I’ll just go check on those canapes,” Amy said, raising her brows, and Ann nodded. Amy slipped out of the room.

“Heath must be very pleased,” Joan said brightly.

“I imagine so.”

“He hasn’t said anything?”

“Well, he’s been very busy. He’s the host, after all. I’ve hardly seen him.”

Joan looked around quickly and then stepped into the hall, scanning the immediate area. Then she rejoined Ann, leaning in close to her and saying, “What’s going on, Ann?”

Ann looked at her.

“Don’t give me that innocent face,” Joan said kindly. “I’ve been watching you and Heath for almost a month. You’re both drawn, tense and unhappy. You look thinner every day and Heath is snapping at Joe if my husband looks at him cross eyed. You’re not exactly the picture of blissful newlyweds. What gives?”

Ann looked away from her.

“I thought something was wrong at your wedding but Joe dismissed it. Now even he is beginning to wonder. Why did you marry Heath, Ann?”

Ann sighed wearily. “You remember us when we were kids, right, Joan?”

“How could I forget? I never saw two people more in love. Joe and I were just thrilled when the two of you got back together, that’s why I can’t understand this situation now. You’ve been given a second chance, why aren’t you taking advantage of it?”

“It’s a long story. What has Heath told you?”

“Nothing. He just called Joe one day and asked us to witness your wedding.”

“Then let’s keep it that way.”

Joan stood aside as Ann slid the tray of lemons into the refrigerator. When Ann turned back to her, the older woman was watching her with concern.

Ann smiled. “I’m all right, Joan. Really.”

Joan shook her head. She was a little plumper, a little grayer, than when Ann had first met her so many years ago, but her air of enveloping kindness was the same.

“I don’t know if this helps you but Heath really does have a good heart,” Joan said.

Ann nodded.

“I mean it. The first thing he did when he came into that money was call Joe and offer him a job in management in the company he was forming. Management! Joe never even graduated from high school. And when Joe couldn’t sell the marina, it was the middle of the recession, you know, Heath bought it himself at a loss. He’s been a wonderful friend to us, Ann.”

“Heath was always grateful that Joe gave him a job when he needed one,” Ann murmured.

“He’s very loyal.”

To everyone except me, Ann thought.

As if he had been summoned, Joe appeared and said, “What are you two hens clucking about in here? Everybody is dancing out on the terrace.”

“I’m coming,” Joan said, and put her hand on Ann’s arm. “If you ever need to talk...” she said in a low tone.

Ann nodded. She waited until the Jensens had left and then walked around to the front of the house, nodding at the people she encountered along the way. The party was concentrated at the back of the house and she found herself alone at the front door, the sounds of music and laughter drifting toward her faintly through the rooms.

Ann opened the door and walked out onto the flagstone path, wrapping her arms around her torso. The night was cool for December in south Florida, in the high fifties, but it felt refreshing by comparison with the house, which was warm from collected body heat. Ann looked at the lights Victor had strung in the trees, the floodlit wreath hanging under the point of the garage roof, then gazed up at the stars, thinking about Christmases from her childhood. It was a minute or so before she realized that she was not alone.

She turned to find a young woman standing behind her, smoking a cigarette.

“So you’re the wife, huh?” the smoker said.

“I... uh, yes,” Ann replied, startled.

The woman switched her cigarette to her left hand and extended her right hand. “Stacy Barcroft,” she said.

“How do you do?” Ann said, shaking hands with her.

“I’m doing just fine. I just came out here to grab a smoke. I didn’t see any ashtrays inside so I figured I’d better not light up in the house.”

“There are ashtrays in the pool room.”

“Segregating the smokers, huh? That’s okay, I’m used to it. We’re the new persecuted minority. Actually I don’t mind going outside, it gives me a chance to catch a breath of air. It’s getting pretty close in there.”

“I just told Victor to turn on the air-freshening system in the house.”

“Good idea.” Stacy inhaled deeply, the tip of her cigarette glowing, then exhaled a plume of grayish smoke that danced on the cool night air. She stepped into the light from the windows and Ann saw that she was a petite brunette wearing a stylish red evening suit with black velvet trim.

“Do you work for Bimini in Miami?” Ann asked. “I remember your name from the guest list.”

“No, I’m an architect. I designed the Miami marina, and I have been called in on a few other independent projects. I also dated Heath for a while.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t get nervous; I gave up on him real quick. His body was present but it was clear his mind was always elsewhere, you know what I mean?”

Ann didn’t reply. She knew.

“So you arrived out of the past, right? High school sweetheart or something like that?”

“Something like that.”

“I suppose you know that women have been jumping off buildings all over south Florida since the day you got married.”

Ann smiled thinly. “No, I didn’t know that.”

“It’s a fact. Mr. Eligible decamps with a mystery woman from his student days? It caused quite a stir.”

“It’s already yesterday’s news.”

“Don’t count on it. I’ll bet you didn’t get many regrets in response to your invitations to this party.”