Man of the Hour. Diana Palmer
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we were.”
“One of us certainly isn’t,” she mused dryly. “You never used to kiss me like that!”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Did you expect me to remain celibate when you defected?”
“Of course not,” she replied, averting her eyes. “That would have been asking the impossible.”
“Fidelity belongs to a committed relationship,” he said.
She was looking at her hands, not at him. Life seemed so empty lately. Even dancing didn’t fill the great hollow space in her heart. “Being in a committed relationship wouldn’t have mattered,” she murmured. “I doubt if you’d have been capable of staying faithful to just one woman, what with your track record and all. And I’m hardly a raving beauty like Daphne.”
He stiffened slightly, but no reaction showed in his face. He watched her and glowered. “Nice try, but it doesn’t work.”
She glanced up, surprised. “What doesn’t?”
“The wounded, downcast look,” he said. He stretched, and muscles rippled under his knit shirt. “I know you too well, Meg,” he added. “You always were theatrical.”
She stared at him without blinking. “Would you have liked it if I’d gone raging to the door of your apartment after I saw you and Daphne pictured in that newspaper?”
His face hardened to stone. “No,” he admitted, “I loathe scenes. All the same, there’s no reason to lie about the reason you wanted to break our engagement. You told your mother that dancing was more important than me, that you got cold feet and ran for it. That’s all she told me.”
Meg was puzzled, but perhaps Nicole had decided against mentioning Daphne’s place in Steven’s life. “I suppose she decided that the best course all around was to make you believe my career was the reason I left.”
“That’s right. Your mother decided,” he corrected, and his eyes glittered coldly. “She yelled frog, and you jumped. You always were afraid of her.”
“Who wasn’t?” she muttered. “She was a world-beater, and I was a sheltered babe in the woods. I didn’t know beans about men until you came along.”
“You still don’t,” he said flatly. “I’m surprised that living in New York hasn’t changed you.”
“What you are is what you are, despite where you live,” she reminded him. She looked down again, infuriated with him. “I dance. That’s what I do. That’s all I do. I’ve worked hard all my life at ballet, and now I’m beginning to reap the rewards for it. I like my life. So it was probably a good thing that I found out how you felt about me in time, wasn’t it? I had a lucky escape, Steve,” she added bitterly.
He moved close, just close enough to make her feel threatened, to make her aware of him so that she’d look up.
He smiled with faint cruelty. “Does your good fortune compensate?” he asked with soft sarcasm.
“For what?”
“For knowing how much other women enjoy lying in my arms in the darkness.”
She felt her composure shatter, and knew by the smile that he’d seen it in her eyes.
“Damn you!” she choked.
He turned away, laughing. “That’s what I thought.” He paused at the doorway. “Tell your brother I’ll call him tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed. “I hated you when your mother handed me the ring you’d left with her. You were the biggest mistake of my life. And, as you said, it was a lucky escape. For both of us.”
He turned and left, his steady footsteps echoing down the hall before the door opened and closed with firm control behind him. Meg stood where he’d left her, aching from head to toe with renewed misery. He said he’d hated her in the past, but it was still there, in his eyes, when he looked at her. He hadn’t stopped resenting her for what she’d done, despite the fact that he’d been unfaithful to her. He was in the wrong, so why was he blaming Meg?
“Where’s Steve?” her brother asked when he reappeared.
“He had to go. He had a hot date,” she said through her teeth.
“Good old Steve. He sure can draw ’em. I wish I had half his…Where are you going?”
“To bed,” Meg said from the staircase, and her voice didn’t encourage any more questions.
Meg only wished that she had someplace to go, but she was stuck in Wichita for the time being. Stuck with Steven always around, throwing his new conquests in her face. She limped because of the accident, and the tendons were mending, but not as quickly as she’d hoped. The doctor had been uncertain as to whether the damage would eventually right itself, and the physical therapist whom Meg saw three times a week was uncommunicative. Talk to the doctor, she told Meg. But Meg wouldn’t, because she knew she wasn’t making much progress and she was afraid to know why.
Besides her injury, there was no work in New York for her just now. Her ballet company couldn’t perform without funds, and unless they raised some soon, she wouldn’t have a job. It was a pity to waste so many years of her life on such a gamble. She loved ballet. If only she were wealthy enough to finance the company herself, but her small dividends from her stock in Ryker Air wouldn’t be nearly enough.
David didn’t have the money, either, but Steve did. She grimaced at just the thought. Steve would throw the money away or even burn it before he’d lend any to Meg. Not that she’d ever ask him, she promised herself. She had too much pride.
She’d tried not to panic at the thought of never dancing again. She consoled herself with a small dream of her own, of opening a ballet school here in Wichita. It would be nice to teach little girls how to dance. After all, Meg had studied ballet since her fourth birthday. She certainly had the knowledge, and she loved children. It was an option that she’d never seriously considered before, but now, with her injury, it became a security blanket. It was there to keep her going. If she failed in one area, she still had prospects in another. Yes, she had prospects.
The next morning, it was raining. Meg looked out the front window and smiled wistfully, because the rain pounding down on the sprouting grass and leafing trees suited her mood. It was late spring. There were flowers blooming and, thank God, no tornadoes looming with this shower. The rain was nice, if unexpected.
She did her exercises, glowering at the ankle that was still stiff and painful after weeks of patient work. David was at the office and no doubt so was Steve—if he wasn’t too worn out from the night before, she thought furiously. How dare he rub his latest conquest in her face and make sarcastic and painful remarks about it?
He wasn’t the person she’d known at eighteen. That Steve had been a quiet man without the cruelty of this new man who used women and tossed them aside. Or perhaps he’d always been like this, except that Meg had been looking at him through loving eyes and missed all his flaws.
She didn’t expect to see him again after his harshness the night before, but David telephoned just before he left the office with an invitation to dinner from Steve.
“We’ve just signed a new contract with a Middle-Eastern potentate. We’re taking his representative out for dinner and Steve wants you to come with us.”
“Why me?” she asked with faint bitterness. “Am I being offered as a treat to his client or is he thinking of selling me into slavery on the Barbary Coast? I understand blondes are still much in demand there.”
David didn’t catch the bitterness in her voice. He laughed uproariously, covered the mouthpiece and mumbled something. “Steve says that’s not a bad idea, and for you to wear a harem outfit.”
“Tell him fat chance,” she mumbled. “I don’t know if I want to go. Surely Steven has plenty of women who could help him entertain his business friends.”
“Don’t