The Summerhouse (The Summerhouse 1) - Page 33

“For you or for me?”

“Me,” he said.

“Good,” she answered, then closed the door, but she didn’t move away from it. “Tell me what you have to say quickly. Your father is waiting for me.”

“He is and he isn’t,” Thomas said.

She had a feeling that this man she was seeing now wasn’t a man that many people saw. She had an idea that the real Thomas was sure of himself most, if not all, of the time, but now he was acting as though he’d rather face a firing squad than be here in this room alone with her. Just what my ego needed, she thought.

“First of all, I owe you an apology,” he said. When she didn’t answer, but just stood there with her arms folded across her chest, he threw up his hands and sat down on the chair by the window. “Okay, so how’d you like the truth?”

“It would make for a change around here.”

At that Thomas gave the tiniest bit of a smile. “Do you know Dr. Dorothy Oliver?”

“Yes,” Madison said tentatively. “But what does she have to do with my blackmailing your cousin in a divorce settlement?”

“Mmph!” Thomas said as though she’d hit him. “She’s my aunt, my mother’s sister, and it seems that you and your husband were invited here so you could have a good time.”

At that astonishing statement, the hostility left Madison, and she sat down on the corner of the bed. “Me?” Her mind was whirling. Since she’d arrived, she’d felt as though she were an intruder here, as though she didn’t belong, but all along, it had been her and not Roger who had actually been the guest.

“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” Madison said, then watched him as he explained. When he’d finished, she said, “So you’re going to be in serious trouble if I leave?”

“Well, it’s not as though the IRS is going to audit me or that I’m failing my courses or that—”

“When will you see your aunt next?” Madison asked, smiling.

Thomas grimaced. “Probably Thanksgiving.” He looked at her. “And if you leave now, I will be the turkey that’s served for dinner.”

Madison laughed. “I see. So what has your family told you to do?”

“When you do leave here, they want you to honestly be able to tell my aunt that you had the best time of your life.”

For a moment Madison just stared at him, blinking; then she stood and paced back and forth a few times, thinking about this. Halting, she looked at him. “So exactly what does this mean?”

“My mother wasn’t specific, but I think it means that I’m to give you anything you want.”

“Carte blanche at Bergdorf’s?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said stiffly.

“Or does it mean that you are to ‘show me a good time’? Wine and dine me, that sort of thing?”

“Whatever you want. We can fly into New York and go shopping. We could go out to some clubs there; then we could return here and I could take you out to some places where you could wear whatever you’ve bought in the city.”

Turning away, she pretended to be considering what he’d just offered. She could tell that that’s exactly what he expected of her, or, rather, what he would expect of “someone like her,” as he’d probably put it. “All right,” she said as she turned back to him. “I’ll tell you what I want.”

He lifted one eyebrow. “And what is that?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I don’t want anything. I just want some time off from responsibility. I want to lie about in a hammock a

ll day long. I want to read trashy novels. I want to work jigsaw puzzles. I want to eat too much, then do nothing but lie around in the sun. The most strenuous thing I want to do is lift a glass of lemonade.”

From the look on his face she knew that she’d startled him. Obviously, it wasn’t what he’d expected her to say. In a way, it was rather like having a genie offer you three wishes, then turning them down.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly. “My brother will be going to parties and I’m sure that Roger will go with him. You’ll need something to wear, so I can—”

“No, I won’t need anything to wear to parties because I won’t be attending any parties. Look, I know that everyone in this house sees that there isn’t much left between Roger and me. I don’t think anyone can go through what we have and still be ‘in love,’ so you might as well know that Roger and I have agreed to take a vacation from each other. He may go to all the parties he wants, but I was never one for large gatherings and I have no interest in them.”

Tags: Jude Deveraux The Summerhouse Science Fiction
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