Come Lie With Me Read online

  “Don’t do it!” Serena said sharply, twisting her fingers into knots.

  Blake turned and looked at his sister in disbelief. “You think she can beat me, don’t you?” he murmured, but the words were more a statement than a question.

  Serena was tense, staring at Dione with an odd, pleading look in her eyes. Dione understood: Serena didn’t want her brother humiliated. And neither did she. But she did want him to agree to therapy, and she was willing to do whatever was necessary to make him see what he was doing to himself. She tried to say that with her eyes, because she couldn’t say the words aloud.

  “Answer me!” Blake roared suddenly. Every line of him was tense.

  Serena bit her lower lip. “Yes,” she finally said. “I think she can beat you.”

  Silence fell, and Blake sat as though made of stone. Watching him carefully, Dione saw the moment he made the decision. “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?” he challenged, turning the wheelchair with a quick pressure of his finger on a button. Dione followed him as he led the way to his desk and positioned the wheelchair beside it.

  “You shouldn’t have a motorized wheelchair,” she observed absently. “A manual chair would have kept your upper body strength at a reasonable level. This is a fancy chair, but it isn’t doing you any good at all.”

  He shot her a brooding glance, but didn’t respond to her comment. “Sit down,” he said, indicating his desk.

  Dione took her time obeying him. She felt no joy, no elation, in knowing that she would win; it was something she had to do, a point that she had to make to Blake.

  Richard and Serena flanked them as they positioned themselves, Blake maneuvering himself until he was satisfied with his location, Dione doing the same. She propped her right arm on the desk and gripped her bicep with her left hand. “Ready when you are,” she said.

  Blake had the advantage of a longer arm, and she realized that it would take all of the strength in her hand and wrist to overcome the leverage he would have. He positioned his arm against hers and wrapped his fingers firmly around her much smaller hand. For a moment he studied the slim grace of her fingers, the delicate pink of her manicured nails, and a slight smile moved his lips. He probably thought it would be a cake walk. But she felt the coldness of his hands, indicating poor circulation, and knew the inevitable outcome of their little battle.

  “Richard, you start it,” Blake instructed, lifting his eyes and locking them with hers. She could feel his intensity, his aggressive drive to win, and she began to brace herself, concentrating all her energy and strength into her right arm and hand.

  “Go,” said Richard, and though there was no great flurry of movement between the two antagonists, their bodies were suddenly tense, their arms locked together.

  Dione kept her face calm, revealing nothing of the fierce effort it took to keep her wrist straight. After the first moments, when he was unable to shove her arm down, Blake’s face reflected first astonishment, then anger, then a sort of desperation. She could feel his first burst of strength ebbing and slowly, inexorably, she began forcing his arm down. Sweat broke out on his forehead and slipped down one side of his face as he struggled to reverse the motion, but he had already used his meager strength and had nothing in reserve. Knowing that she had him, and regretting her victory even though she knew it was necessary, Dione quickly settled the matter by forcing his arm down flat on the desk.

  He sat in his wheelchair, a shattered expression in his eyes for a flashing moment before he closed himself off and made his face a blank wall.

  The silence was broken only by his rapid breathing. Richard’s face was grim; Serena looked torn between the desire to comfort her brother and a strong inclination to throw Dione out herself.

  Dione moved briskly, rising to her feet. “That settles that,” she said casually. “In another two months I won’t be able to do that. I’ll put my things in the room next to this one—”

  “No,” said Blake curtly, not looking at her. “Serena, give Miss Kelley the guest suite.”

  “That won’t do at all,” Dione replied. “I want to be close enough to you that I’ll be able to hear you if you call. The room next door will do nicely. Richard, how soon can you have those changes made that I stipulated?”

  “What changes?” Blake asked, jerking his head up.

  “I need some special equipment,” she explained, noting that the diversion had worked, as she’d intended it to. He’d already lost that empty look. She’d evidently made the right decision in being so casual about beating him at arm wrestling, treating the incident as nothing unusual. Now was not the time to rub it in, or to let him know that there were a lot of men walking the earth who couldn’t match her in arm wrestling. He’d find out soon enough when they got into the weight-lifting program.

  “What sort of special equipment?” he demanded.

  She controlled a smile. His attention had certainly been caught by the possibility of any changes in his beloved home. She outlined her needs to him. “A whirlpool is a necessity. I’ll also need a treadmill, weight bench, sauna, things like that. Any objections?”

  “There might be. Just where do you plan to put all this?”

  “Richard said he could outfit a gym for me on the ground floor, next to the pool, which will be very convenient, because you’ll be doing a lot of work in the pool. Water is a great place for calisthenics,” she said enthusiastically. “Your muscles still get the workout, but the water supports your weight.”

  “You’re not putting in a gym,” he said grimly.

  “Read my contract.” She smiled. “The gym is going in. Don’t make such a fuss; the house won’t be disfigured, and the equipment is necessary. An Olympic trainee won’t be getting the workout you’re facing,” she said with quiet truth. “It’s going to be hard work, and it’s going to be painful, but you’ll do it if I have to drive you like a slave. You can put money on it: You’ll be walking by Christmas.”

  A terrible longing crossed his face before he brought his thin hand up to rub his forehead, and Dione sensed his indecision. But it wasn’t in him to give in to anyone else easily, and he scowled. “You won the right to stay here,” he said grudgingly. “But I don’t like it, and I don’t like you, Miss Kelley. Richard, I want to see that contract she keeps harping about.”

  “I don’t have it with me,” Richard lied smoothly, taking Serena’s arm and edging her toward the door. “I’ll bring it with me the next time I’m over.”

  Serena had time for only an incoherent protest before Richard had her out the door. Trusting Richard to keep his wife away, at least for the time being, Dione smiled at Blake and waited.

  He eyed her warily. “Don’t you have something else to do besides staring at me?”

  “I certainly do. I was just waiting to see if you have any questions. If you don’t, I need to be unpacking.”

  “No questions,” he muttered.

  That wouldn’t last long, she thought, leaving him without another word. When he found out the extent of her therapy, he’d have plenty to say about it.

  It was evidently up to her to find her way around the house, but because the design was so simple, she had no difficulty exploring. Her suitcases were sitting in the foyer, and she took them upstairs herself, finally examining the room she’d chosen for her own. It was a room for a man, done in masculine browns and creams, but it was comfortable and suited her; she wasn’t picky. She unpacked, a chore that didn’t take long because she didn’t burden herself with a lot of clothing. What she had was good and adaptable, so she could use one outfit for several different things just by changing a few accessories. The way she traveled around, from one case to another, a lot of clothing would have been a hindrance.

  Then she went in search of the cook and housekeeper; a house that size had to have some sort of staff, and she needed everyone’s cooperation. It might have been easier if Richard had remained to introduce her, but she was glad that he’d taken Serena out of the way.