Free Torn Asunder by Ann Cristy Page B

talk now or at some later
date?"
    Cle's
instinct was to run and hide in a closet and stay there for a year. She had to
force the words from her throat. "I...I'm having guests this evening. It's
New Year's Eve..."
    "I'm
aware of the day and time." His voice was silkily sarcastic and made Cle
shiver. "I'm sure you'll want to be polite and issue me an invitation as
well."
    "Oh,
I will, will I? Think again, Dev." She stared at him. "How long are
you going to be in
Sydney
?"
she croaked.
    "As
long as it takes."
    He
was all steel heavily wrapped in velvet—terribly threatening and Cle felt
shaky. "You're talking in riddles."
    "If
you want straight answers, ask straight questions." His eyes swung away
from the Chinese rug and fell full on her. "While I'm here, I'll want to
see
Sydney
. You
can show it to me."
    "I'm
not a tour guide." Cle watched his lips peel back from his teeth at her
words and took a step backward. She cleared her throat. "I still have work
to finish before my guests arrive... so... if you don't mind."
    He
glowered at her. "Why haven't you hired a daily to take care of the work?
It's nonsense for you to be doing all this manual labor and then expect to
entertain this evening."
    Cle's
chin came up, her hands pulling the kerchief between them like a rope. "I
don't have unlimited funds. And don't make some snide remark about that, please!
Besides, I enjoy doing some of the housework, even though I can't do it
all." She braced herself, remembering Dev's irritation with her when she
would insist on doing some of the household tasks herself rather than save them
for Mrs. Hubbard.
    He
stared at her for long moments. "All right. We'll do it together."
    Cle
felt her mouth drop, her eyes start from her head. "Don't be silly,"
she whispered, her voice hoarse.
    "Don't
be pompous, Cle. It's unattractive." Dev pointed to her apron. "Get
me one of those wraparound things."
    "But
you can't.. .Your slacks..." Cle paused, his words sinking in. Anger
seemed to rise from her toes. "Pompous!" she shouted at him as she
followed him at a trot to the kitchen. "Did you say pompous?" She
stood in the doorway leading to the pantry where Dev was rummaging around.
"You have gall, I'll give you that. How dare you say that I—"
    "Don't
nag me," Dev said as he emerged from the pantry with the vacuum cleaner in
one hand, pail with cloths and cleaners in the other, apron round his waist.
"If you want this place done, get working. I'll argue with you
later."
    Cle
could feel her blood pounding in her head. Every epithet that she could dredge
up was clamoring to be snouted at Dev as he walked past her into the living
room, ignoring her. Frustration drove her after him but since he continued to
pretend she wasn't there and then turned the vacuum on so that her voice
disappeared in the roar, she had no choice but to go back to her polishing.
    Anger
made the cloth a live thing and in no time Cle finished her waxing. She and Dev
barely exchanged a word. The place looked wonderful when they called a halt
some hours later. Grudgingly she offered Dev a sandwich and something to drink
and still there were few words between them.
    Cle
was still groping for some way to make it clear to Dev that he should not show
up that evening when he abruptly rose to his feet, said that he was going, and
that he would be back later.
    She
was left staring at the door he slammed behind him and listening to the hum of
the elevator that took him to the ground floor.
    Cle
soaked in a hot tub with mountains of fragrant bubbles, hoping to calm her
nerves. From time to time she eyed the dress she had hung on the clothes tree
in the bedroom. Swathed in a bathsheet, she walked around the dress several
times trying to decide if, in truth. Jaime's creation would give her courage,
as he had told her it would when he first insisted that she have it. She'd shot
back that she'd probably be arrested for wearing what he termed his "Venus
Creation."
    It
was a strapless cream lace dress worn