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“Why are you wearing that?” he demanded flatly.
    “Because,” Leigh replied equally blandly, “though I do appreciate the thought, Derek, I do not care to accept such gifts from you. You needn’t have gone to the bother. But I haven’t touched the things. You can return them tomorrow.” Color was spreading through her face despite the unconcerned tone of her voice. She was remembering the intimate “gifts” and the precision of their order. The wind whipped at the escaping tendrils of her hair and she turned toward the channel with carefully planned nonchalance. “Your turn!” she challenged jauntily. “What happened to your beard?”
    Derek lightly rubbed the fresh and tender skin of his squared jawline. “Down the drain, love. And all for your benefit. I remember you saying you hated scratchy beards!” He moved to her and ran a finger along her cheek. “So you see”—his touch was like a whisper of air and his voice as soft—“I’m willing to accommodate you to drastic lengths. I think you could humor me in return and wear the dress.”
    Those tawny eyes were boring into hers and she didn’t seem able to turn away. She felt like a deer trapped in the headlights of an approaching car, hypnotized and searching in spite of the coming danger. But she had to move. She was quite sure that Derek was about to take her into his arms, an easy conquest like his other “interchangeable” cats, and she had to avoid such a catastrophe at all costs. He moved even closer, and she found the strength to force her own unwilling limbs. She took a giant step backward, and tumbled straight into the pool.
    Derek’s laughter reached her ears even through the insulation of the chlorinated water. Furious from the sound, she refused to surface, but swam the depths to the shallow end instead and climbed up the circular steps, high heels in her hands.
    “Looks like you’ll have to change after all,” he commented evenly.
    Leigh didn’t reply. She marched for the house, just in time to run into James and her vodka and tonic. “Thank you, James,” she said airily, sweeping the glass from the small silver tray. “I’ll bring this up with me.” She sailed on past him, as cool as he despite the rivulets of water that drained from her. Once inside and out of vision, she pelted up the steps quickly, wondering if James would smirk along with Derek behind her back. Besides, she was freezing. The water had been warm, but the stiff wind had chilled her to the bone.
    In the privacy of her room she stripped off her soaking clothing and stepped into a quick shower to rinse the chill and the smell of the chemicals from her skin. Then she donned the new clothing bitterly, noting that Derek couldn’t have manipulated her into submission any better had he planned it. Or had he planned it?
    What was he up to? she asked herself as she pinned her sodden hair. It wasn’t a romantic interlude; he had already told her he was expecting a date later and he wanted her out of the way. Besides, he disliked and distrusted her! She knew his displays of courtesy were often masks. No, he was up to something. She didn’t believe for one minute that his sole reason for summoning her had been the music. He could write circles around her any day of the week. Then what? Revenge? Punishment for what she had supposedly done to Richard? How absurd. There wasn’t really anything he could do to her.
    Or was there? She was already stuck where she didn’t want to be in the home of a man she had once sworn never to see again.
    She tilted her chin proudly and smiled a brave smile to the woman in the mirror. That was much better. The lost and frightened look was gone. Of course she didn’t have to go down to dinner. She could hide up here and simply disappear in the morning without seeing Derek. Yes, she could run away.
    No. The smile she gave herself was stronger and more sincere. She was not a gawking, naive teen-ager. She had been the wife of Richard