Come Lie With Me - Linda Howard [57]
“I’ll remember that,” said Dione, but after Serena had left she wondered if Serena would remember. By that time, Dione would be long gone.
Chapter Eight
The next day, without mentioning it to anyone, Dione began making arrangements to take another case. She’d give herself time to recover from the pain of losing Blake, time to adjust to waking up without knowing that he was in the next room. She’d begin at the end of January, she thought. Blake would be returning to work after the first of January, and she’d probably leave sometime around then.
Now that success was in his grasp, Blake pushed himself harder. Dione gave up even trying to rein in his energy. She watched him force himself along the bars, sweating, cursing steadily as an antidote against the pain and weariness, and when he was too tired to continue she’d massage his exhausted body, put him in the whirlpool, then give him another massage. She watched his diet more closely than ever, knowing how badly he needed extra nutrition now. When cramps knotted his legs in the night, she rubbed them out for him. There was no stopping him.
It was time for him to leave the wheelchair behind. She brought in a walker, a four-legged half cage that provided him with the balance and stability he needed, and the pleasure of getting around under his own power was so great that he gladly endured the slow pace, the strain.
He didn’t mention Serena’s sudden absence from the dinner table, though Alberta immediately adjusted both her menus and the amount she cooked. The full dinners almost ceased; instead she began preparing small, light dinners, and Dione often found the table set with candles and a decanter of wine. The intimate atmosphere was another spike that crucified her heart, but as Blake welcomed the pain of therapy, she welcomed the hurt of his company. This was all she had, and the days were trickling away so swiftly that she felt as if she were grasping at shadows.
On Thanksgiving Day, following Blake’s directions, she drove them to Serena’s house for dinner. Except for being transferred from the hospital to home, it was the first time he’d been out since his accident, and he sat turned to stone, his entire body tense as his senses struggled to take everything in. In two years Scottsdale had changed, cars had changed, clothing had changed. She wondered if the desert sky seemed bluer to him, the sun brighter.
“When will I be able to drive?” he asked abruptly.
“When your reflexes are fast enough. Soon,” she promised absently. She seldom drove, and she had to concentrate on what she was doing. She jumped when his hand rested on her knee, then slid up under the skirt she was wearing to pat her thigh.
“Next week we’ll start practicing,” he said. “We’ll go out in the desert, away from all the traffic.”
“Yes, fine,” she said, her voice taut with tension caused by the warm hand on her leg. He touched her constantly, bestowing kisses and pats, but somehow his hand seemed much more intimate when she had on a skirt.
A smile twitched at his lips. “I like that dress,” he said.
She gave him a harried glance. He liked every dress she wore, evidently. He was definitely a leg man. He slid closer and bent his head to inhale the perfume she’d used in honor of the occasion, his warm breath caressing her collarbone just before he pressed his lips into the soft hollow. Simultaneously his hand slid higher, and the car wobbled dangerously before Dione straightened it.
“Stop it!” she fumed, pushing uselessly at his hand. “You’re making me nervous! I don’t drive that well anyway!”
“Then put both hands on the wheel,” he advised, laughing. “I’m in the same car, remember? I’m not going to do anything that’ll cause you to crash.”
“You wretch!” she shouted as his fingers began stroking back and forth over her thigh. “Damn it, Blake, would you stop it! I’m not