do that, Craig." Valerie's voice was husky. "We—uh—we're getting back together again."
Craig abruptly released her hands and leaned against his desk, a chilling expression on his face. "So you're going back to this man after what he's done to you?" he asked finally.
"I left him, Craig." She felt uneasy under his dark gaze. "We need to make a home for Michael."
"I offered you a home—and much more." He gripped her forearms as she rose from her chair and drew her against him.
"Craig, please don't spoil it," Valerie begged, struggling in his embrace, trying to evade his descending mouth.
"If the two of you will excuse me, I came to take my wife to lunch." A cold masculine voice halted Craig's kiss.
Sean stood in the doorway, a grim expression on his face. His gray suit, maroon silk shirt, and striped tie accented his dark good looks.
"So, you're the wandering husband." Craig smiled crookedly at his friend as he released Valerie's arms. "And to think of the two of you, cool as cucumbers at the dance when you 'met.' Or was it all planned?" There was a trace of a sneer in his voice.
"Val didn't know I was anywhere near here," Sean told him in a hard voice, his eyes cold as glass as they rested on Val's flushed face. "And it's obvious that she still intends to play her little games."
Tossing her steno pad on the chair, Valerie pressed her lips tightly together to still their angry trembling. "If you 'gentlemen' will excuse me, I'm going to lunch." Her voice revealed her shaky inner self as she headed toward the doorway, which Sean was still blocking. "Alone." She looked up at his granite features and, surprisingly, he stepped aside to let her pass.
Without turning around, Valerie willed her shaky legs to carry her to her desk, where she retrieved her shoulder bag from a bottom drawer. Moments later, her car was roaring out of the parking lot.
Her appetite gone after the turbulent scene at the office, Valerie finally parked the car at a fast-food restaurant and ordered a soda to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. Soon, she knew, she would have to return to the office and face Craig. When she finally got back, she was relieved to find him gone, with a note on her desk leaving instructions about the dictation he had given her that morning. Blanking out her mind, she sat down at her typewriter, busily working on the correspondence.
That evening, Valerie began to pack her clothing and sort through Michael's clothes.
"You don't have to look as if you'll be entering Dracula's castle, Val." Shelly sat cross-legged on her bed, her long legs tanned in contrast to her white shorts and T-shirt. "You and Michael will be well cared for."
"Michael does fine now," Val replied curtly, carefully folding her sheer lingerie and placing it in a pile on the bed.
"What about his tonsils? He's been sick a lot lately, and you know they'll have to come out," Shelly gently reminded. "And you don't have enough insurance to pay for it."
"I still have money from that legacy." Valerie referred to money she had received after the death of a distant relative several years before.
Shelly sighed at her friend's stubbornness. "I'm going to get us a couple of sodas." She uncoiled herself from the bed and left the room.
Opening various dresser drawers, unthinking, Valerie opened one of Shelly's. She had started to close it when an envelope shoved in a corner and bearing foreign stamps, caught her eye. Curious, she picked it up, seeing a military post box as a return address. The color drained from her face as she hastily scanned the boldly written contents.
I have arranged for a lawyer to contact Val stating that she will be receiving a legacy from a distant relative since you've said she's been too ill to work.
I appreciate your keeping in touch with me and letting me know how she is. As per your suggestion, I'll write to you at your school.
Thanks, Sean
"Val, I—"
Valerie turned, facing her friend with an accusing expression on her