Free Torn Asunder by Ann Cristy Page A

that
they were all talking at once. He was going to stay with Max during his visit
and he seemed especially pleased that Cle had decided to give a small party in
his honor on New Year's Eve.
    "I'm
anxious to see this place you have raved so much about, dear Cle." Jaime
squeezed her shoulder as she sat between the two men on the front seat of the
car.
    "I
didn't rave. After all I've only talked to you once and written to you
twice."
    "Well,
it sounded like raving." Jaime shrugged, smiling at her.
    For
the rest of the journey to Max's apartment, Cle was content to listen to the
two experts argue the merits of the business that engrossed them.
    Cle
was delighted by the small catering firm Max had recommended—and relieved to
discover Max was correct in saying they were not expensive. Unlike Jaime who
had an imperial notion of what was "frugal," Max was realistic. The
caterer was well within Cle's budget and so on New Year's Eve day she found
herself, with Max's blessing, taking the day off to do the last minute cleaning
that she thought was necessary. She was horrified at Jaime's offer to help,
knowing that he would sit around, drink gallons of coffee, and distract her
with talk about the world of high fashion. She was grateful when Max coaxed him
into visiting a weaver that he considered a master.
    Hair
tied in a kerchief, Cle waxed the wood paneling in the lounge and dining room.
She had worked her way into the kitchen feeling very satisfied with the two
rooms she had finished, when the doorbell started ringing. Someone was leaning
on the bell and, thinking it was an overburdened caterer, Cle flung the door
open.
    "Happy
New Year, Cle!" Dev leaned against the door jamb, his indolent pose belied
by the green sulfur of his eyes. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
     
    CHAPTER
FOUR
     
    Open
mouthed, Cle stared, not really able to believe that Dev was actually standing
in front of her. The stun of surprise wore off within seconds, though, and she
tried to shut the door on him.
    Dev
slowly forced the door wide, shoving a straining Cle behind it. "Not very
friendly of you, darling, and after all we've meant to each other." His
voice sounded like a fingernail down a blackboard.
    She
had to grit her teeth to keep from screaming. Inhaling deeply, she faced him in
the paneled foyer. "Get out of here. What are you doing here? You can't
stay."
    "I
can see you're overcome with joy at my presence, so much so that your speech is
erratic. You're talking like a robot whose batteries have run down, love,"
Dev drawled, unbuttoning his sport coat as casually as if he'd just come home
from work and nothing was wrong between them. He ambled past her toward the
lounge area, his eyes moving in narrow assessment over the apartment.
    "How
like you to make some remark about my speech, m'lud," Cle grated, yanking
the kerchief from her head and following him, stopping dead on the top step
leading down into the living room when Dev whirled on her, his face a savage
mask.
    "Don't
get nasty, Cle. I can get a great deal nastier and have bloody better
reasons." His voice had the sound of a sledgehammer hitting concrete. His
eyes were just as Jaime had described them. Green sulfur.. .and murderous!
    Cle
licked her lips, thrusting out her chin. "What are you doing here?"
    "Now
what the bloody hell do you think I'm doing here?"
    "I
realize you're angry with me, but... but I did what I thought was..."
Cle's voice trailed off as she watched his features contort.
    "Yes.
You had better stop talking, Cle. I don't know how far my control will stretch,
but I would guess not far." Dev's head swiveled until his eyes lighted on
the decanter and glasses sitting on a small table next to the fireplace. He
strode across the room in four thrusting moves. His hand tilted a large measure
of sherry into a glass. He tossed off the first then upended another into his
mouth. He stood there staring at the decanter in his hand for long moments
before he looked at her again. "Do we