Unwilling Wife Page 5

  It was apparent that Paul was working hard to find a nonvolatile subject. Regretting her part in his discomfort, Gina vowed to ignore David for the remainder of the evening and concentrate on giving Paul as good a time as possible, under the circumstances. “It’s so nice of you to ask, Paul,” she assured him, breaking into a compassionate smile. “I’m very excited about my plans.”

  David noticed her smile and it galled him, but he made no comment, morbidly curious to hear what she had to say—though, as far as he was concerned, any plans she had that didn’t include him had no bearing on reality.

  “Well,” Gina began, her eyes suddenly alight with enthusiasm, “I’ve collected some wonderful stories about lighthouses—You see, my family has been in the business of keeping lighthouses for three generations, until my dad decided to become a retailer. Anyway, I’ll be working on a folklore book about lighthouses and their ghosts.”

  David choked on a gulp of coffee and Gina was hard put to hide a grin. Naturally, to David, trying to get a book published that concerned lighthouses and ghosts would be tantamount to suggesting that physics was a passing Yuppie craze.

  “That’s fascinating,” Paul commented eagerly. “Does the lighthouse at Sweetheart Point have a ghost story?”

  You ask Gina out again and it might! David mused behind a pleasant mask.

  Gina took a sip of water, then shook her head. “Unfortunately, no, but that doesn’t keep it from being an inspiring place to work.”

  Paul nodded at Gina, resting his chin on his hands. He smiled. “I’ve always liked the lighthouse—and your grandfather. I was sorry when old Pappy died.”

  “He liked you, too.” She reached across the table and touched Paul’s elbow. “Did I ever thank you for keeping the place up after he died?”

  Paul smiled at her and David scowled. Apparently they had managed to forget his presence. He cleared his throat, noticing with some satisfaction that both their smiles died a sudden death.

  Paul subtly moved his arm away from Gina’s touch, plainly not caring to incur the taller man’s wrath. “It was nothing—part of my job,” he mumbled. “Besides my real-estate business, I also hire out to maintain properties. It would be only natural for Pappy’s will to stipulate that I handle it until you could take it over.”

  Gina nodded, withdrawing her hand. David had successfully ended an amicable moment. In spite of her vow to ignore him, she fired a condemning glare his way.

  David lost track of the conversation, concentrating instead on a flaw on the rim of his coffee cup. Dammit. What in hell was it going to take to get this woman to look at him the way she used to—to smile at him—really smile—with love in those exquisite moss-green eyes? He wanted his open, receptive Gina back. He’d have to give the problem some hard thought. Sanity and common sense didn’t seem to be working.

  By the end of the evening, when they were delivered back to the lighthouse, not very surprisingly, Paul made no attempt to make lingering conversation. David’s nerves were raw. He’d endured Gina’s purposeful neglect all evening with what he’d thought was admirable self-possession, but he didn’t plan to allow her to ignore him one moment longer.

  The minute they were alone inside the lighthouse, he stated harshly, “That ghost-book idea of yours is the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard of! How do you hope to live? Even if you get it published, it would take years to get royalties. Good lord, woman, you’re living in a dreamworld!”

  Gina spun on him, her face set. “It’s my dreamworld, and I want you out of it!” She dropped dejectedly to the sofa. Unable to hide her swelling anguish for one second more, she accused, “At least Paul was interested enough to ask. You’ve been here for twenty-four hours and you didn’t even inquire.”

  “That’s because you aren’t staying here,” he retorted, his anger no longer in check. “That’s because a week from now you’ll be back in Boston with me where you belong.”

  “I won’t!” she cried. “I won’t go back to that insulated universe where you’re always right and I’m a cute little chicken-brain! I tell you, David, it’s just not enough for me to spend the rest of my life being The Dean’s Wife!”

  Exasperated, she ran her hands through her curls, sighing heavily before she could go on. Then, more quietly, more dejectedly, she admitted, “I’m disappearing—being devoured by the force of your will.” Sadly, she shook her head. “I want to make a mark of my own, to contribute something.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he lamented through a moan. “A lot of women find happiness with the career of simply being a wife.”

  “Like my mother?” she challenged tearfully.

  He looked perplexed. “What is this about your mother, all of a sudden?”

  “My mother thought she was perfectly happy being a wife, being dominated by my father. I thought it was perfectly okay, too, when I was growing up. My mother was a funny, witty woman, David. But when my father died, she just shriveled up and died, too. She was forty-two. A wonderful, smart lady gave up and withered away within sixty days of her husband’s death. She thought that was just fine. But I lost years of what could have been a wonderful, close companionship with her. Don’t you see the catastrophe?”

  “She was a quiet, obliging woman,” he admitted quietly.

  “And is that what you want carved on my headstone?” she asked acidly.

  “You’re nothing like your mother—”

  “I will be. Give me twelve or thirteen more years in your devouring shadow! You’ll suck everything that was me into you like a benevolent black hole. You’ll do it out of love, but I’ll still be gone,” she countered. “Let me be me—Gina Johnson Baron, ex-bookstore clerk, bachelor-of-arts grad from Boston College. Give me some credit. If given a chance, I can be more than just an extension of you! I have to explore my boundaries—find my passions. You have physics. Why can’t I have something, too?”

  “Fine. Find your something. What the hell is so elusive that you can’t find it with me in Boston?”

  “Freedom from your smothering bondage, David. I tried! For the five years since Mom’s death, I tried to get you to help me become more than I was! But you’ve fought me at every turn. You dictated my college courses. I wanted to major in psychology, but here I am with a completely useless degree in ancient Mediterranean civilizations!

  “And since I graduated, you’ve made excuse after excuse why I shouldn’t look for a job ‘right now.’ And when I went ahead and applied at several places, you advised me why this or that job wasn’t right for me—the hours would cut into our entertaining, or I’d be away from home, away from my responsibilities as Pep Club sponsor! I can’t live like that any longer. Time’s up! I promised myself that by the time I turn thirty, I will be my own woman. Unfortunately, you’ve proven to me, over and over again, that the only way I can become that woman is to leave you.”

  He pursed his lips, provoked. “You can’t live out here,” he growled, hurting. “You don’t have any money. Since I refuse to divorce you, don’t expect me to finance this crazy enterprise of yours.”

  “Grandpa left me seven thousand dollars. That’ll keep me for a while.”

  His lips twisted with melancholy. “Not long, Gina. Then what will you do?”

  “I don’t know, exactly, but I do know I’d rather be locked in a room with nothing but great works of literature and die a slow, boring death having them read aloud to me than go one inch with you!”

  He flinched. He’d thought she’d enjoyed their evenings spent with him reading the classics to her. Wounded and filled with painful longing, he muttered, “Darling, over the years, you’ve seemed contented enough with the ‘inches’ we’ve traveled together.”

  Her face grew hot and she knew she must be crimson. Embarrassed, she retorted testily, “Sex isn’t everything, David!” Somehow it had come out oddly breathless, giving away her intense reaction to the mention of their lusty sex life.

  The knowing quirk of his lips stirred her more than she cared t
o admit, so she blurted hastily, “If you’re really interested in my plans, maybe I’ll just marry Paul!” She knew she was being unfair, but his bringing up their hot-and-heavy sex life had been unfair, too. In truth, she had no more romantic feelings for Paul than she had for—for…

  Odd, she’d thought she’d be able to admit that she held no romantic feelings for David, but something deep inside her hadn’t allowed her to say it. She toughened herself against any lingering feelings for him, forcing herself to stare at his crestfallen face, but avoiding his troubled gray eyes. “Don’t fret about me, David. I’ll get along.”

  “You can’t marry Paul if you’re still married to me,” he persisted, his voice dangerously quiet.

  “I won’t be married to you. Even a mule, when whipped enough times, finally gets the idea and budges from his stubborn stance! Surely you have the brains of a mule.”

  She saw torment flash across his face before he looked away; his desolate expression tore at her heart. She was being cruel, and she hated herself for it. “David…” she began, her voice breaking. “I—I don’t mean to be harsh. You’re a brilliant, good-hearted man. It’s just that you aren’t good for me anymore.” She sighed dispiritedly, adding, “And I don’t suppose it’s in your nature to change.”

  She chewed on her lower lip in the deafening silence, expecting him to retort, to defend himself. When he didn’t, she added sadly, “You—you’ve turned me into something that is simply foreign to my nature. Oh,” she hurried on, half apologetic, “I know I’m partly to blame because I allowed it, but I was young, inexperienced and anxious to learn.” And madly in love with the correct young professor who walked into my predictable life and swept me into a whirlwind courtship that lasted mere weeks before our blissful marriage—some malevolent part of her brain insisted on reminding her.

  “Once you told me what had first attracted you about me, David. Do you remember what it was?” she asked, in a voice just above a whisper. When he didn’t respond, she continued, “You said I was like a bright new penny, before it’s been tarnished. I was different from your rigid and formed world—’So refreshing,’ you said.” She paused, meeting his eyes solemnly before she asked, “Can’t you see the irony in that?”

  “No,” he denied roughly. “I haven’t tarnished you, Gina. I’ve done nothing but give, wanting only what’s best…” He faltered, frowned, started to go on, but shook his head, remaining silent.

  “So, we’ve come to another impasse.” Fighting tears, she whispered brokenly, “If I allowed my—myself to be pulled back into the same situation just because I can’t quite rid myself of my affection for you, it would settle nothing.” Her words were barely audible now. “I’d—I’d be forced to leave you again, eventually.” She hated having to be ruthless, but she had to be unwavering—end this, once and for all. Even though she had a fierce desire to take him in her arms and apologize for her hurtful words, she stood her ground.

  Pulling her lips together in a tight line to keep them from quivering, she steeled herself for his verbal attack. Agitated almost to the point of nausea, she waited. It startled her when, instead, he turned away to the narrow fireplace mantel. His wide shoulders had dropped measurably as he began to finger the iridescent inner surface of an abalone shell—one of a striking collection left to her by her grandfather.

  David simply stood there examining the half-melon-size mollusk with grave interest, and it began to prey on her nerves that he, for once, had nothing to say. When the heavy silence had grown as painful as the words had been, she announced tiredly, “I’m going to bed.”

  “I won’t allow you to sleep on the couch,” he stated in a tight whisper.

  Knowing her back couldn’t take another night on the sofa, she rejoined, “Will you keep on your side of the bed?”

  “It’s divided.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  With a curse he turned to face her, his narrowed, sparking eyes searing her as he responded coldly, “I know damned well what you asked, Gina. Go to bed. I won’t molest you.”

  She cringed, not only at the rage that burned in his eyes, but at the muscle that had begun to twitch in his cheek. Though his anger was tenaciously controlled, she had never seen David this angry, and the knowledge that he was capable of such fury frightened her. As swiftly as she could, Gina vaulted past him into the bedroom.

  DEEP IN THE NIGHT, Gina felt David’s hand on her thigh, patting in odd feathery strokes. Even asleep, he recognized her familiar, soft flesh and groaned audibly. Suddenly frightened by her own heated reaction, Gina brushed his hand away, waking him in the process.

  When his hand disappeared behind the blanket, she heard his gritted curse, and he sounded charmingly groggy. Because she was sure he’d been asleep when he’d reached for her, she didn’t scold him, deciding the less said about the incident, the better.

  Yet, even an hour later, Gina could tell from his breathing that David hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep. Unfortunately, neither had she. His touch still lingered against her skin like a phantom lover’s caress. Finally, irritated beyond words, she got up and took a shower, scrubbing her skin until it was red. She didn’t want David’s touch to bother her so. What was she going to have to do to get this man to leave?

  AFTER A WEEK OF DAVID’S disgruntled presence, Gina was beside herself. Her mental state had swung haphazardly from anger to anguish, exhausting her in both body and mind. He had refused to budge, either physically or in his unyielding attitude. On the eighth day of his punitive visit, at her wit’s end, Gina decided she had to do something to get him out of her life forever. What she came up with was extreme, but she was close to losing her mind, having his constant presence draped over her life like a thorn-filled shroud. She had to have him out and gone. Maybe if she’d been less harried, she might have thought better of her plan, but she was frantic.

  Hoping to push him beyond his emotional endurance, she chose the only way in which she knew she could be completely successful: sunbathing in the nude. The beach was totally isolated, so she would be displaying herself for only her pompous husband, who had once refused to allow her to swim while on vacation in France because the nearby beach was designated “topless.”

  It was early afternoon and the weather was perfect for sunning. David had taken up reading in the easy chair. As usual, it was one of his infernal classic tomes. This one, she noticed, was written in Latin. She wondered how much fascination a “dead” language would hold for him, once he realized his wife was sunning in the nude on the beach below. She only wished it was a public beach. David would have a stroke if he even dreamed she would prance around buff-bare among other men. Now, that would really drive him up an ivy-covered wall!

  God willing, knowing that he could look but not touch would be the final straw that would send David screaming back to Boston, leaving her to make her own life on this side of the continent.

  Dragging a towel coquettishly behind her, Gina slammed the bedroom door, intent on drawing David’s gaze. She smiled inwardly to see his eyes widen in what was at first a look of hope and appreciation, but then utter shock as she padded across the living room to disappear out the front door—stark-naked.

  It had only taken David enough time to rip off his glasses and launch himself from the chair when Gina reappeared, towel clutched to her breasts as she leaned heavily against the door. Her face was constricted in horror, her body bent over in an embarrassed half-crouch. She sputtered, “David—David, help me….” Motioning behind her, she whispered, “There’s a deliveryman coming up the walk. He saw me!”

  David faced her, looking rankled. “What do you want me to do? Have him arrested for making deliveries to a deranged woman?”

  She shook her head wildly. “No, just go out there and get the package. I couldn’t face him!”

  He frowned at her as she struggled to cover herself with the towel. “What did you think you were doing, Gina?”

  Halting her fumbling for a moment, she l
ooked up at him, tilting her chin as haughtily as her humiliation would allow. “I can sunbathe on my own beach if I want to, can’t I?”

  Before he could respond, there was a knock at the door. Gina ran around behind David and cowered there. “You go,” she whimpered. “I’d die before I could face that man.”

  He exhaled heavily and disappeared outside. After a few seconds he was back with a padded envelope. Tossing it on the couch, he observed dryly, “Well, you made that man’s day. I have a feeling you’ll be getting a lot of deliveries—whether they belong here or not.”

  She groaned. “What did he say?”

  David shrugged his wide shoulders, plunging his hands into his trouser pockets. With a grave expression, he muttered, “The guy said I was damned lucky.”

  Gina, her towel wrapped around her now, picked up the package and began to open it—more to avoid David’s unhappy gaze than with any real interest in what was inside.

  “What is it?” he asked grimly.

  “It’s a book I ordered.” She pulled it out. “It’s called The Dominating Male And How to Rid yourself of Him.”

  He made a disgusted noise. “I’ve heard of that book. It was reviewed with the comment that it rivals the extramarital affair for breaking up marriages.”

  She dropped the book on the couch and faced him squarely, retorting, “That book can’t be blamed for breaking up something that’s already broken—as it is in our case.” With that, she swept past him, resolute in going forward with her original plan. But before she made another reckless exit, she peered out the door. The thought flitted across her mind that she might not be quite ready for public nude beaches, after all.

  She crept onto the porch and craned her neck around to the side of the lighthouse to be sure the truck was gone before she pulled the towel from her body and strutted down the stone walk toward her picket fence and the rock ledge beyond.

  “Do you mean to tell me you’re actually going to sunbathe naked?” David called after her.