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Tremayne; she had learned to hold her own and survive in a rugged world. She would tuck tail and run before no one—not even Derek Mallory! And if he wanted to play games, well, she could play them too. She had proved that once. It was a pity that Derek would never know how well she played a game.
    It was a greater pity that she had paid so dearly for that game—paid with dreams, longing, yearning, physical pain.
    The sick, agonized look was returning to her eyes. She left the room, pushing the memory to the back of her mind as she usually managed to do. Usually, in rational thought, she pretended that the night had been a dream. The man, the chivalrous King Arthur, had not been Derek, just as she had not been the exotic belly dancer. It had all been a fantasy, not real. As far as she was concerned, she hadn’t seen Derek since Richard’s funeral; she hadn’t even attended the party in Atlanta.
    And if she was in love, it was with a fantasy, not Derek Mallory.
    The attractive male who had been dominating her mind greeted her with a long, low wolf whistle. She had to laugh. Derek, minus the beard, seemed younger tonight, more gallant, more touchable. Had he really razored off his magnificent beard on her behalf? Maybe. But, she reminded herself primly, it would be a grave mistake to lower her guard, no matter what his guise might be. She dug her nails into the palm of her hand. They knew exactly who one another was this night. They could never in reality escape the past or the words that had passed between them.
    “Thank you,” she said demurely, in full control. She spun a graceful pirouette to allow the folds of the dress to swirl smoothly around her. “You do have a nice eye for clothing, Mr. Mallory.”
    Derek nodded gravely in acceptance of her compliment, but she noticed that his eyes held a satanish twinkle as he answered, “I have an eye for what would become certain spectacular forms.”
    “Thank you again,” Leigh said casually. “I hope I haven’t delayed dinner. I want to be certain to ‘disappear’ before your date arrives.” She astonished herself with the total lack of concern in her statement.
    “Umm …” Derek was noncommittal. “I’ll be sure to have you well out of the way when she arrives.” He wore a pleasant grin as he approached her and offered his arm. “Shall we go in to dinner? James said to come in as soon as you were ready.”
    Dinner was served in the small nook off the kitchen. Prepared for two, the meal was as elegant as any planned for the most romantic honeymoon. James poured champagne into glittering crystal glasses, candles flickered a mellow glow over the slender centerpiece of red and yellow roses. The main course was stone crabs, a Florida delicacy they both favored. For the first portion of the meal they concentrated on the food and kept the conversation light and bantering. But it was inevitable that trouble spring up, despite the pains taken by James and Emma to create a soothing atmosphere.
    It started innocently enough. They had been discussing water levels in Key West when Derek suddenly leaned back, a half smile on his unusually bare features. “You know,” he said, idly rubbing a long finger along the ridge of his champagne glass, “I’ll never forget the day Richard and I met you. You looked like a little waif coming from the ocean, like the mermaid who sold her soul for human legs.” He laughed ruefully. “We were both out to impress you—until we discovered you could outswim us in a matter of seconds! I think Richard fell in love with you the moment you dove out of his reach.”
    Leigh felt a piece of the tender crab catch in her throat. “Richard always did want what he couldn’t reach,” she said softly when she could.
    If she had meant to keep the peace, she should have kept her mouth shut. But her reply had been nothing less than the truth. Still, she knew as she watched Derek’s jawline harden and his gold eyes glimmer as if they were about