Stormy Vows - Iris Johansen [75]
“That's comforting,” she said bitterly. “Maybe I'll last a few months longer than Melanie St. James.” She ran her hand through her hair wearily. “Jake, I know you're doing what you think is best, but all this discussion is tearing me to pieces.” Her lips quivered uncontrollably. “I couldn't possibly eat anything. Would you please take me home?”
Jake sighed, and his face was a picture of dissatisfaction as he took some bills from his wallet and threw them on the table. “I should have known better than to try to argue with a woman where her emotions are concerned,” he said gloomily, as he rose. “Come along, little martyr. I'll take you home where you can sulk, and brood, and build up a really horrendous case against Michael by the time he gets home tonight. Women!”
Perhaps due to this last harsh condemnation of Jake's, Brenna tried to do exactly the opposite when Dominic had dropped her off. She kept herself feverishly busy all afternoon. Playing vigorously with Randy in the pool, then cleaning out and rearranging dresser drawers in her bedroom. She tried to read a script that Michael had left for her, but this was a lost cause. Her mind refused to take in one word of the dialogue.
Michael called three times that afternoon, but she refused to speak to him, giving a vague excuse each time to the puzzled and upset Mrs. Haskins. When he made his last call, he left a message that he wouldn't be home to dinner, a message that Mrs. Haskins delivered with barely concealed, righteous satisfaction. The housekeeper adored Donovan, and she obviously thought Brenna was mistreating her idol.
Brenna herself refused dinner, and returned to her room to settle down and wait for Donovan's return. She realized at once that this was a mistake as clouds of depression rolled over her horizon, making her as brooding and self-pitying as Dominic's accusation. She jumped up, and hurried to the bathroom, filling the aqua tub with steaming, bubbling water while she bundled her hair on top of her head. She dropped her clothes carelessly on the floor and stepped into the tub, reclining full length, her head resting on the plastic pillow affixed to one end of the tub. The water was warm and soothing and like liquid silk against her flesh. Suddenly she remembered that first day on the island, and Michael beside her in that Sybarite sunken bathtub that was built for lovemaking. She could feel her nipples harden, as her mind helplessly replayed the love scene, the first of many that had gradually bound her to Michael with golden chains. She could feel the silent tears that she had fought all day long run down her cheeks in silent profusion, and she knew the time had finally come for self confrontation.
Jake had not truly realized why she had been so devastated by Michael's luncheon date with Melanie St. James. She was not foolish enough to think that Michael had finished with her yet: He was still too eager to possess her. Their lovemaking was too good for her to make that mistake. It may have been a perfectly innocent interlude as Jake had suggested. What had shaken her world to the foundation was her own reaction to that first agonizing suspicion that Donovan might be growing tired of her. The pain had been breathtaking, blacking out the joy of living as if it no longer existed. She had realized then how she had been deceiving herself.
Since she had first discovered her love for Michael, she had convinced herself that an emotion that beautiful could only enrich her, and make her stronger in the years to come. She had not realized that Michael had painted the canvas of her life with his own bright hues, and without him, all the exuberant vitality would vanish as if it had never been. Her love