Snowflakes on the Sea. Linda Miller Lael
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scowled and tossed a beleaguered look in Mallory’s direction that brought his earlier one-word appraisal of Diane swiftly to mind. Bitch.
Mallory smiled, and for a while at least, she was no longer afraid of this woman, no longer in awe of her beauty and her sophistication and her undeniable charm. “Nathan?” she asked, again indicating the coffeepot.
He nodded, and Mallory grinned as she filled his cup and set it before him.
“That’s bad for you!” Diane complained, frowning and reaching out to grasp Nathan’s arm.
Nathan pulled free, raised the cup to his lips and winked at his wife. “Allow me this one vice,” he said. “Since I’m temporarily denied my favorite.”
Mallory felt her face flush, but she didn’t look away. Nathan’s gaze lingered at her lips for a long moment, causing her a sweet, singular sort of discomfort.
“So,” Diane said, too cheerfully, “how is it that the notorious Ms. O’Connor isn’t cavorting before the cameras?”
Mallory felt strong and confident for the first time in weeks, though she couldn’t decide whether the quality had its roots in the long talk with Kate or the way Nathan was quietly making love to her with his eyes. Both, probably.
“The name is McKendrick,” she said pleasantly, with a slight lift of her chin.
Something changed in Nathan’s eyes; there was an earnest curiosity there, displacing the teasing hunger she’d noticed before.
Diane looked mildly upset. “I thought ‘O’Connor’ was your professional name,” she said in an argumentative tone.
“O’Connor was my maiden name,” Mallory replied sweetly, with a corresponding smile. “I am married, you know.”
Nathan raised one eyebrow, but he said nothing. He merely toyed with the handle of his coffee mug.
Diane was obviously at a loss, but she recovered quickly. Leveling her devastating blue eyes at Nathan, she seemed to forget that Mallory was even in the room. “What have you decided about that television special, Nathan? I think it would be great to go back to Australia again, don’t you? And the money is fantastic, even for you—”
Mallory suddenly felt bereft again, shut out. Those feelings intensified when she saw a sparkle in Nathan’s dark eyes. What was he remembering? The beautiful, awe-inspiring Australian countryside? Walks along moon-kissed beaches with a warm and willing Diane?
“The people are so friendly,” he mused aloud.
Especially the ones who wear Spandex jeans and lip gloss, Mallory thought bitterly.
Diane laughed with unrestrained glee and clapped her elegant hands together. Her whole face shone with appealing mischief as she smiled at Nathan. “I thought I would die when you were presented with that kangaroo!” she sang, and her voice rang like music in the simple, homey room.
Nathan grinned at the memory, but then his eyes strayed to Mallory, just briefly, and darkened with an emotion she couldn’t quite read.
“They gave you a kangaroo?” Mallory put in quickly, in an effort to join the conversation. “What did you do with it?”
He shrugged, and his gaze was fixed on some point just above Diane’s glowing head. “I gave it to the zoo.”
“And then there was that great Christmas Eve party,” Diane trilled, tossing a look of triumphant malice in Mallory’s direction. “My God, the sun was coming up before that broke up—”
Nathan frowned, clearly irritated by the mention of the holidays. Or was he warning Diane not to reveal too much? “Ho, ho, ho,” he grumbled.
Mallory lowered her eyes to her coffee cup. Her shooting schedule hadn’t permitted her to join Nathan at Christmas, and while they hadn’t discussed that fact in person, the subject had generated several scathing exchanges over long-distance telephone. She said nothing.
But Diane went mercilessly on. “You can’t imagine how odd it seemed, swimming outdoors on Christmas Day!” There followed a short, calculated pause. “What was it like here, Mallory!”
The shot hit dead center, and Mallory had to work up her courage before daring to glance at Nathan. His features were stiff with resentment, just as she’d feared.
“It was lonely,” she said in complete honesty.
Diane was on a roll, and she knew it. Cloaking her animosity in sweetness, she smiled indulgently. “Now, Mallory, don’t try to convince us that you sat at home and pined. Everybody knows what super parties Brad Ranner gives, and I read that you celebrated the holidays in a romantic ski lodge high in the Cascades.”
Mallory had forgotten the write-up she’d gotten in the supermarket scandal sheets over Christmas week. One had borne the headline, McKENDRICK MARRIAGE CRACKING, and linked Mallory to a country-and-western singer she’d never even met. Another had, just as Diane maintained, claimed that she had carried on an interesting intrigue in the mountains.
Neither claim was true, of course, but she still felt defensive and annoyed. Why did people buy those awful newspapers, anyway? If they wanted fiction, books were a better bet.
Diane giggled prettily. “No comment, huh? Is that what you told the reporters?”
Mallory clasped her hands together in her lap, felt the color drain from her face as she glared defiantly at Diane. She did not dare to look at Nathan. “I didn’t talk to any reporters,” she said stiffly, hating herself for explaining anything to this woman. Inwardly, she realized that she was actually explaining, left-handedly, the facts to her husband. “Those stories were utter lies, and you damned well know it, Diane.”
Diane sat back in her chair, apparently relaxed and unchallenged by Mallory’s words. She shrugged. “Sometimes they get lucky and print the truth,” she threw out.
Nathan’s voice was an icy, sudden rumble. “Shut up, Diane,” he said. “None of this is any of your business.”
A smile quirked one side of Diane’s glistening pink mouth. “They should have been watching you, shouldn’t they? I can just see the headlines now: ROCK STAR CAVORTS DOWN UNDER.”
Mallory flinched and bit her lower lip. She could feel Nathan’s rage rising in the room like lava swelling a volcano. Any minute, the eruption would come, and they’d all be buried in ash.
“How about this one?” he drawled, leaning toward Diane with ominous leisure. “PRESS AGENT FIRED.”
For the first time, Diane backed down. A girlish blush rose to pinken her classic cheekbones, and real tears gathered in her eyes. “I was only teasing,” she said. “Where did you spend Christmas, Mallory?”
“In Outer Slobovia, Diane,” Mallory replied acidly. “With fourteen midgets and a camel.”
Nathan roared with laughter, but Diane looked affronted. “We could get along if we tried, you know,” she scolded in a tone that implied crushing pain.
“I seriously doubt that,” Mallory retorted. “Why don’t you leave now?”
“Good idea,” Nathan said.
Diane bristled. “Nathan!”
Nathan smiled and stood up, gesturing for silence with both hands. “Now, now, Diane—no more gossip. After all, the camel isn’t here to defend itself.”
Diane flung one scorching look at Mallory and stormed out, slamming the kitchen door behind her. A moment later, the outer door slammed, too.
“Thank you,” Mallory whispered.
“Anytime,” Nathan said, sitting down again.
“Those stories about me—”
He reached out, cupped her chin in one hand. “I know, Mall. Forget it.”