AFTERGLOW (25 page)

"Can you imagine two people any more different than Elliot and me? A doctor and a model? Lord, Chelsea, it's the differences that make life interesting. I carry on passionately about something, Elliot laughs, and we each end up seeing the other's point."

Chelsea was wearing her mulish look, George saw. "So what are you going to do?"

"I'm going home, and if he wants to hear it, I'll tell him that I want more time. Like a year or six. I don't want to be scared when we get married."

"That sounds like a plan," George said.

"What do you mean by that snide remark?"

"Snide?
Moi?
Chelsea, you're beginning to lose your sense of humor. Come on, let's go home." I've got things to do and miles to go before I sleep, she added silently.

And George, who looked angelic and didn't believe that people should stick their oars in, was prepared to launch a boat. She smiled lovingly and with great understanding at Chelsea, helped her check out of the Heritage House and followed her back to San Francisco.

Chapter 15

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E
lliot tried his most nonchalant voice.
"So, David, what did Chelsea have to say?"

David shook himself like a mongrel dog and sat down beside Elliot at the poolside. "She said she wanted time to think about it, dithered around and hung up."

"Sounds reasonable, I suppose," Elliot said.

David cursed, drawing a disapproving glance from an older woman whose bulk should have prohibited the wearing of her bilious green swimsuit.

"Actually," David continued, "I felt like flinging her over my shoulder and carting her off someplace."

"As a matter of fact, perhaps that's the way to go," Elliot said, so relieved that David himself had gotten with George's program that every tense muscle in his body relaxed.

But David was on a roll and didn't hear him. "She's being so stubborn, so damned obtuse. She won't even let me see her, much less make love to her." He cursed again the moment the disapproving woman had moved away.

"I've got a plan," Elliot said.

David arched a thick dark brow. "Yes?"

"Well, actually, it's more George's plan than mine, all based on the fact that Chelsea loves you."

David looked inordinately pleased at that. "She told George that? That she loved me? You promise, Elliot, she really said that?"

"Yes, indeed. I also gather that she's convinced that you guys are going to continue to be dynamite in bed. She's just scared because, according to her, the two of you are so different. She's afraid that you're going to turn back into the stuffed shirt Mr. Hyde after six months."

David looked honestly surprised. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!"

"Yes, I agree, but she's quite serious about it. That and wanting more time. I think she's also worried about making a commitment of such magnitude." Elliot stretched a bit, then said in an offhand voice, "As I said, George has a plan. As far as I can tell, it's foolproof."

"Tell me. Lord knows I'm ready to try anything."

"There's a poker game at Chelsea's house this Friday with the boys."

"I wasn't invited," David said.

"You'll be having lunch with Delbert, Angelo and Maurice on Union Street tomorrow."

"Why? Not that I don't like the
boys,
but what's the purpose? Do they want to borrow money?"

"No money involved. The
boys
are behind you one hundred percent. You'll work out the details of the plan with them tomorrow."

"It's not illegal, is it?"

"Oh, no," Elliot said as he slipped back into the water. "As a matter of fact, you're going to become a Mark I hero. Now, supermacho stud, how about a ten-lap race?"

"You ain't got a prayer!"

"What's the matter, Sweet Lips?" Delbert asked as he hugged Chelsea.

"Nothing," Chelsea said. "Why do you think anything's the matter?"

"You look like an onion whose skin has been peeled away."

"That's disgusting! Angelo, come take this fool away. You, Maurice, come help me with the goodies in the kitchen."

"What did perfect Sarah come up with this time?" Maurice asked, following her out of the room.

"She certainly appears to have it bad," Angelo said to Delbert. "We
are
doing the right thing."

"I hope so," Delbert said, scratching his head. "David better work everything out."

"Yeah, if he doesn't, there'll be no more poker games with Chelsea." This brought forth a worried look and a doleful sigh from the both of them.

It was nine o'clock, and Chelsea had lost nearly fifty dollars. She didn't care. She was still working on her first glass of white wine. When the doorbell rang she sloshed her glass onto the poker table.

"Go answer it, honey," Delbert told her. The moment she left the living room he poured her another glass of white wine and sprinkled a bit of white powder into it. He stirred it with his finger. "No turning back now," he said.

"She's miserable for sure," Angelo said. "Have you ever seen her lose so much money so soon?"

"And not give a damn," added Delbert.

"David!"

"Good to see you, old man!"

"Come sit down. I'll get you a beer."

Chelsea looked shell-shocked. She'd answered the door and seen him standing there, gorgeous, smiling and sexy. She'd backed up. Now, with her three friends behind her, she said, "What are you doing here? You weren't invited."

"Delbert asked me," David said with his most engaging smile. "Said he was broke and needed to win, thus my invitation. You don't mind, do you?"

"He's already won a great deal off me," Chelsea said. She felt wrung out and wanted to belt David and kiss his face at the same time. Instead she bumped into the table and her wineglass tipped over. She stared stupidly at the wine spreading over the cards and poker chips.

The four men stared at the empty glass, then shot comic looks at each other.

Angelo said, "Chels, honey, go get a dishcloth or something. I'll pour you another glass."

"Keep her in the kitchen for a bit," Angelo said, motioning to Delbert.

"No plan is perfect," Maurice said easily as he poured another glass of white wine and added his white powder. "You can use
your
finger to stir it this time, Doc."

For a long moment David didn't move. What he was doing was dishonest, ruthless, unfair, outrageous
…
Mark I.
He stirred the wine with his finger.

He raised her glass out of the way while she and Delbert cleaned up the mess.

"Well," Chelsea said to David, "I suppose that since you're here you might as well play." She stomped out of the room and returned with another chair. "Sit and lose."

Chelsea was too miserable to realize that every sip of her wine was to the accompaniment of four interested pairs of eyes. She gambled wildly, and won. "You guys aren't paying attention," she said finally.

"Oh, yes, we are," Maurice said. "You just got lucky, Sweet Lips."

Chelsea won the next hand with a pair of threes, and she giggled. "I must be drinking too much," she remarked to her newly filled glass of wine. "I think I'll switch to soda water."

Everything was so funny. She no longer felt nervous with David sitting next to her at the table. She thought he was the finest thing she'd ever seen, and said so.

"Finest thing?" David said, grinning at her.

"Yes," Chelsea said, and tried to focus on his face. "And you've got the most beautiful teeth."

"Very white," Delbert agreed.

"I like it when you smile like that," Chelsea said, ignoring Delbert.

"I promise to smile like this for the next fifty years," David said. He gently covered her hand with his.

Chelsea stared down at his hand. "I feel odd," she said. David caught her as she fell forward.

"Step two coming up," said Angelo.

"Stay with her while I pack her bag," David said, and took himself to her bedroom.

Ten minutes later, after congratulations and at least a half-dozen rounds of good luck, David eased Chelsea into the passenger seat, fastened her seat belt and sped out of Sausalito.

Thirty minutes later he carried her on board a small charter plane.

"Too much to drink," he told the pilot.

"She's a little thing," the pilot observed. "You'll make sure she's well strapped in?"

"You got it," David said.

Just before they landed in Las Vegas, David slipped the gold band on her finger.

He kept humming under his breath, "I'm a Mark I hero, yours all the
way…
I'm a Mark I hero, here to stay…"

The motel was easy. David simply left her in the car and signed the register as Dr. and Mrs. David Winter.

He gazed at her hungrily after he'd taken off her clothes.

"You've lost weight," he told her, and she grunted softly in her sleep and rolled over. "Your bottom is still the greatest-looking behind I've ever seen."

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when he slipped into bed beside her, curving spoon-fashion against her back.

He thought he'd go out of his mind with her beautifully naked beside him,
but
instead he fell asleep very quickly—the sleep of the ruthless, he thought.

Chelsea turned in her sleep and flowed into a large, very warm male body. It was nice, and she wrapped her arms around the warm, hairy chest.

She came awake on a sneeze. She opened her eyes slowly, saw that a tuft of hair was responsible for the tickling nose, blinked like an owl and squeaked.

David closed his arms around her and pulled her closer.

"David!"

The sound of her own voice sent shards of hangover through her head. David opened his eyes, looked
up
into her shocked face and smiled. "Good morning, love," he said.

Chelsea's mouth felt as if it were stuffed with damp cotton. "I don't feel well," she gasped. "This is a miserable nightmare. I need some aspirin."

She pulled away from him, and he let her go. She managed to stand beside the bed, saw that she was naked, and gasped.

"Aspirin in the bathroom," David said.

She stumbled into the small bathroom, found the aspirin bottle beside her toothpaste and popped three of them down. She looked at her face, groaned at the dreadful apparition staring back at her and brushed her teeth. For want of anything better she wrapped a towel around herself and staggered back into the bedroom.

"I don't understand," she managed, staring at David, who was now sitting up in bed, the covers coming only to his middle.

"Come back to bed, Chels," he said in a very loving voice. "You'll feel better in no time at all, I promise." He was telling the truth. It wasn't aspirin in the bottle, it was something stronger, designed to relieve any ache, pain or hangover in the animal world.

"All right," she said. She slipped in beside him, lying on her back, the towel still firmly around her. "I don't understand," she said again. "Where are we? What are you doing here?"

Now it begins, David thought. He turned on his side toward her, balancing himself on his elbow. "We're in Las Vegas," he said.

"Las Vegas!
But…"
She looked desperate. "We were at my house! Where are Delbert and—"

"They're home, of course. They did see us off, however. They send their congratulations." He allowed a few moments to show her his disappointment. "Don't you remember, Chels?"

She grew very still. The pain in her head was only a dull throbbing now, and her brain and mouth felt as if they were working in concert again. "I didn't have any clothes on," she said. She turned to look at him. "You don't have any clothes on, either."