Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [74]
Brenna said nothing as she moved toward the restroom like a sleepwalker. Refusing to think of anything at all, keeping her mind carefully blank, she washed her face and put on fresh lipstick. She tidied her hair carefully, taking as much time as possible, so that she wouldn't have to return and be present when her husband swept the voluptuous actress out of the office. She was not consciously thinking, but her instinct for self-preservation prevented her from exposing herself to that degree of torture.
When Brenna returned, Dominic was standing by Marcia Owens' desk and they stopped speaking abruptly when she entered the room. Dominic took one look at her set white face, muttered an imprecation beneath his breath, and crossed to take her by the elbow. “Dammit all, what fools you women are,” he said roughly. “Come on, we're going to lunch and I'm going to try to talk some sense into you.”
He half led, half propelled her from the room, and any protests she might have made were quelled by the grim stormy look on Dominic's face. This was not the same Dominic she had joked and teased with such a short time ago. She obeyed meekly as he settled her in his black Ferrari and whisked her to a small restaurant on the edge of town. It looked more like a small brick residence than a restaurant, and there was only a small sign quietly advertising quality cuisine in discreet letters.
It was only after they had been seated at a quiet corner table and Dominic had given the order for both of them, that he turned to Brenna with quiet determination in every line of his face.
“All right, now we talk,” he said briskly. “Will you please tell me why you're looking like a Christian who has just been thrown to the lions?”
Trust Jake to think in such visual terms, she thought numbly, but she had no intention of confiding in him. The wound was too raw to bear probing by that ruthless intellect. “Perhaps I'm not feeling well,” she said evasively. “Marcia will tell you I was a little under the weather this morning.”
“Bull!” Jake said succinctly. “We both know the reason you're falling apart at the seams. I hoped to get you to bring it out in the open yourself. But if you won't, I will.”
“I don't want to talk about it,” Brenna said rigidly, looking down at her folded hands on the white damask tablecloth.
“Too bad!” Jake said coldly. “Michael's my best friend, and I hope you're going to be a close second, Brenna. I'm not about to let some foolish, womanish misconception hurt either of you. Now, let's talk about that promiscuous little sex kitten Michael took out to lunch today.”
Brenna flinched. “I don't see any evidence of misconception,” she said with an effort. “It seems to be perfectly clear.”
“It always does to a woman,” Jake said dryly. “Did it ever occur to you that he could have a reason, other than the obvious one, to see the beauteous Miss St. James? They are in the same business, you know.”
“She isn't under contract to Donovan any more,” Brenna said miserably. “Everyone knows that she signed with Fox two years ago.”
“About the same time she and Donovan called it quits,” Jake observed coolly. “If I remember, it was Donovan who tired of her. So why the hell would he want to stir up the ashes of a dead love affair?” He grimaced. “Believe me, there's nothing less appetizing once you're through with a woman.”
Dominic's brutal frankness was less than comforting when she realized his ruthless attitude was essentially the same as Donovan's. She shivered uncontrollably with the pain of the thought. Would Donovan some day feel the same distaste for her as he did his past mistresses? Was he, even now, trying to tell her, in this cruel and ruthless fashion that she must not count on any real permanency in their relationship?
“You're a good friend to Michael, Jake,” she said huskily, her brown eyes bright with unshed tears. “But I think it's you who isn't reading the situation correctly.”
“Hell!” Dominic said roughly,