A Love Like This - Diana Palmer Page 0,115

cup of black coffee and two honey-brown pieces of buttered toast at her elbow.

“Do you have a headache?” King asked Elissa.

“Yes,” she replied, touching the sunglasses. “But nothing bad enough to prevent me from leaving, if that’s what’s bothering you.”

“For God’s sake!” He hit the table with his fist, and Bess jumped. “I haven’t asked you to leave!”

“Like hell you haven’t!” Elissa gave as good as she got, glaring across the table at him. “I’m not blind! I’m nothing more than an embarrassment to you now. You can’t wait to get rid of me!”

“I asked you to marry me!” he said shortly.

Bess’s eyes widened, and her mouth flew open.

“Marry you? I’d sooner have—have Blake Donavan!”

“Then go get him, honey. He’s available!”

She got up, shaking all over, wanting nothing more than to pick up a chair and hit him over the head with it. Black-eyed devil, sitting there as arrogant as king, bursting with bad temper. Well, hers was just as bad, and he wasn’t bulldozing over her ever again.

“Thanks, I might just do that,” she said, her voice shaking. She turned and stormed back upstairs to finish packing. She’d left the coffee and toast untouched, unable to bear seeing King and Bess together again.

Margaret came up to get her when the taxi arrived. “I wish you wouldn’t go,” she grumbled.

“I can’t fight her,” Elissa said simply. “He cares about her in a way he’ll never care about me. It isn’t something he can help.”

“But, honey, what about you?” Margaret asked gently, her eyes so caring that Elissa burst into tears and was gathered up like a child to be comforted. “There, there,” Margaret cooed. “He’ll come to his senses one day. Men get a little blind sometimes, and Bess has always been special to all of us. He’s a little sidetracked right now, but once he’s had time to miss you a little, he’ll be along—you mark my words.”

“Think so? I don’t.” Elissa wiped her eyes and nose on a handkerchief and crumpled it back into her purse before she readjusted her dark glasses. “There. Do I look terrible?”

“Not at all. Keep your chin up,” Margaret advised. “Don’t let them see you break down, even if you have to bite your tongue through. Poor Bobby, helpless in the hospital...”

“Poor Bobby may see the light if he can’t get to his business for once,” Elissa muttered. “What a pity he didn’t look sooner. He might have saved himself some heartache.”

“I suppose so. Well, you have a safe trip.”

“I will. Thank you for being so good to me.”

Margaret studied her quietly. “It’s easy to be good to nice people. I hope we meet again someday.”

“We probably won’t,” Elissa said, “but thank you for the wish.”

She grabbed up her carryall and started downstairs. When she reached the hall, she heard voices in King’s study. They stopped, quite suddenly, as she started past the open door, and a moan drew her attention. She glanced into the room and saw Bess in King’s arms, smiling up at him.

It hurt, if possible even more than what had already happened, and she hurried past the room to the front door.

“Who was that?” King said, frowning as he heard the front door slam.

He moved away from Bess to open the curtain and look out, just in time to see Elissa dive into the waiting cab and slam the door before it roared off down the driveway.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he grumbled. “I’ve got to go.”

“Must you?” Bess asked, uncertainty in the soft eyes that looked up at him. “We were just going to talk.”

“And we will. Later,” he replied. He let out a slow breath, sensing that she’d already come to the same conclusion that he had; that his near involvement with Bess had been a sense of responsibility and tender affection on his part and desperate loneliness on hers. They’d work it out later, he was sure, without any hard words being spoken. He touched her blond hair lightly. “You’re a lovely woman, Bess,” he said gently, “but I’ve got a bad case of the woman who just walked out the door.”

Bess sighed. “I guess I knew that already.” She looked up at him. “It’s just...well, I...” She faltered, trying to explain her own confused intentions.

“Don’t fret,” he said, smiling at her. “When I get back, we’ll have that nice, long talk, and then we’ll go see Bobby. Okay?”

She smiled wanly. “Okay.”

He got into the Lincoln and proceeded to set new speed records driving to the airport.

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