Indiscretions - Elizabeth Adler [99]
“I hope that we’re going to see more of you, now that you’ve found us?” Her hand rested lightly on his.
Fitz took it, kissing it lightly. “I would have liked that, but I’m here for a rest … your party was an exception to my rule.”
“You have rules?” Olympe raised her brows in amusement.
Fitz threw back his head and laughed. “I sure do—and one of them is to eat at least one meal a day. Why don’t we see what they’re serving at your party?”
Raymunda turned her head as she heard Fitz’s laugh ring out—she hadn’t heard him laugh like that in ages. Peering through the crowd she caught a glimpse of him with Olympe, down by the pool.
“You must be hungry,” she told Salty Majors, slipping her arm through his. “Why don’t we have a little supper?”
Sitting at a table by the pool with Salty and two other couples who were all houseguests of Bendor, Raymunda cast covert glances to her left where Fitz and Olympe sat, seemingly totally absorbed in each other. They’d been there together for more than half an hour now and Raymunda was just debating what she should do about it without making herself look foolish when the first drops of rain began to fall. A spear of lightning jagged across the sky and hung, purple and fizzling, over the sea. Chairs were pushed back hastily as the guests, laughing, made a dash for the house. Salty put a gentlemanly arm around Raymunda, hurrying her up the steps to the patio. Glancing behind her, Raymunda saw Fitz wrap his jacket around Olympe as she stood, head thrown back, laughing in the downpour. Damn it, this had been a mistake.
“Oh, my God,” said Fitz, “it’s twelve o’clock!”
“Do we expect your coach to turn into a pumpkin then?” Olympe pushed back her wet hair and smiled at him mischievously.
“Not only that, I’ll lose my glass slipper! I’ve left someone sitting at the airport—her plane must have arrived half an hour ago. I must leave.”
Olympe took his hand and pressed it warmly, curling her fingers with his.
“Will you come back?” she whispered.
Fitz hesitated. He had been enjoying himself. It was pleasant flirting with Olympe, she was bright and amusing, but he had to consider Raymunda; after all, he was with her.
“I’m afraid not,” he told Olympe, “but thank you for the pleasure of your company.”
“It is,” whispered Olympe, “a pleasure that could be yours—anytime.”
Their eyes met in mutual understanding and Fitz dropped a quick kiss on her cheek.
“I’ll remember that,” he said.
Salty Majors released Raymunda reluctantly.
“You will come tomorrow, won’t you?” He smiled at her, his even white teeth gleaming against his deep tan. He really looked quite a lot like Robert Redford, decided Raymunda.
“If you promise to teach me to windsurf,” she agreed as they said good-bye. She shrugged off Fitz’s hand furiously as he guided her through the crowd and out of the villa, waiting impatiently next to him while the valet fetched the car.
“Why are we leaving so early?” she complained. “The party was just getting going.”
“You can stay if you wish.”
The valet held open the car door and Fitz slid behind the wheel.
“Well,” he asked impatiently, “are you coming or are you not?”
Raymunda flounced into the car.
“I expect you’re tired.” She sighed. “Maybe Olympe Avallon wore you out.”
Fitz glanced sideways at her as he maneuvered the car down the steep driveway. So that was it, now she was jealous. Well, maybe she had a right to be, but she’d seemed content enough with that guy from Newport who looked as though he’d majored in yachting at college. What he was really tired of, he realized suddenly, were all the games between himself and Raymunda. Life was complicated enough without all this.
He took the road away from the coast,