and flashing eyes he caught the doorknob, whirled it, and threw the door wide open with a slam that shook the walls.
Madeline came straight up in the bed, her eyes dilated, disbelieving, and she looked into a face as hard as rock.
"I left your lover downstairs," he said in a voice like ice. "It didn't take you long, did it, Burgundy?"
Still half asleep, she shook her head as if to clear it. "What are you talking about?" she mumbled.
"That balding excuse for a man in the hall. You're priceless, honey," he said through tight lips, his eyes glittering like silvery fire. "I've been stalked by experts, but you pulled a sack over my eyes. How long did it take you to perfect that innocent act of yours? It's a winner. You damned well ought to be on Broadway with it!"
"Cal, it not..." she began, finally realizing what he was getting at.
"Save it!" he shot at her. "What were you going to do, let me stew for a few days, then come back over with a home baked pie and welcome me back with open arms? Just your style, isn't it? Well, for your information little girl, I didn't stew. You should have held on while you had the chance, you could have been on easy street for life. But right now, you're going to be damned lucky if you don't starve."
She ran her hands through her confused, tousled hair. "What are you talking about?"
"You're fired."
She gaped at him. "I'm...what?" she gasped.
"Fired. Canned. Through." He eyed her slender figure under the covers with a contempt that made her shrink back against the pillows. "Futhermore, little temptress, you're going to be looking for another job for one hell of a long time, because you're leaving my employ without a reference to your name. Tit for tat. At that, it's less than I owe you!"
"What have I done?" she burst out.
"Don't throw that wide-eyed innocent look at me, I'm cured!" His eyes narrowed, his deep voice cut like tempered steel. "By God, no woman makes a fool of me and gets away with it. What did you hope to get out of it, a villa in France or a mink? You almost made it if you'd just stuck it out another day, but you got impatient for a man, didn't you? Did you grit your teeth every time I touched you?"
"Cal?" she whispered incredulously. "You don't think I...?"
"The hell I don't." He glared at her across the room. "You were just like the rest of them, after the golden egg, and I was too damned blind to see it. You're nothing. Just a redheaded little opportunist who saw a good thing and tried to use it. But it wasn't so easy after all, was it, you little tramp. For what it's worth, I was tempted. But even a professional like you can make mistakes, and you're about to learn just how forgiving I am."
"It's not what you think!" she whispered, her eyes pleading with him.
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "More tricks? Save it for a rainy day. I can buy all the women I want, but I'm particular. I don't like second-hand merchandise, even in my mistresses. And I particularly don't like worthless little street-corner tramps like you. You're not worth the powder it'd take to blow you to hell."
She felt the insults as though he'd slapped her across the mouth. All she could do was sit there and take it, and tears welled in her eyes.
He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and tossed them carelessly on the foot of her bed. "For services rendered," he said curtly. "I'll have your severance pay mailed to you, and don't bother working out any notice. You are unemployed, Miss Blainn, as of now. You'll have to find another street corner."
With a glance of utter distaste, he turned and stormed out the door. She slammed her face into her pillow and wept like a whipped child.
Vaguely, she heard footsteps and heard Horace's voice close beside her.
"Cuz, don't. Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize he wouldn't know who I was," he said helplessly. "Cuz, do you want me to go after him and explain?"
"No," she choked. "No! He said things to me that I'll never get over, never forget!
Madeline came straight up in the bed, her eyes dilated, disbelieving, and she looked into a face as hard as rock.
"I left your lover downstairs," he said in a voice like ice. "It didn't take you long, did it, Burgundy?"
Still half asleep, she shook her head as if to clear it. "What are you talking about?" she mumbled.
"That balding excuse for a man in the hall. You're priceless, honey," he said through tight lips, his eyes glittering like silvery fire. "I've been stalked by experts, but you pulled a sack over my eyes. How long did it take you to perfect that innocent act of yours? It's a winner. You damned well ought to be on Broadway with it!"
"Cal, it not..." she began, finally realizing what he was getting at.
"Save it!" he shot at her. "What were you going to do, let me stew for a few days, then come back over with a home baked pie and welcome me back with open arms? Just your style, isn't it? Well, for your information little girl, I didn't stew. You should have held on while you had the chance, you could have been on easy street for life. But right now, you're going to be damned lucky if you don't starve."
She ran her hands through her confused, tousled hair. "What are you talking about?"
"You're fired."
She gaped at him. "I'm...what?" she gasped.
"Fired. Canned. Through." He eyed her slender figure under the covers with a contempt that made her shrink back against the pillows. "Futhermore, little temptress, you're going to be looking for another job for one hell of a long time, because you're leaving my employ without a reference to your name. Tit for tat. At that, it's less than I owe you!"
"What have I done?" she burst out.
"Don't throw that wide-eyed innocent look at me, I'm cured!" His eyes narrowed, his deep voice cut like tempered steel. "By God, no woman makes a fool of me and gets away with it. What did you hope to get out of it, a villa in France or a mink? You almost made it if you'd just stuck it out another day, but you got impatient for a man, didn't you? Did you grit your teeth every time I touched you?"
"Cal?" she whispered incredulously. "You don't think I...?"
"The hell I don't." He glared at her across the room. "You were just like the rest of them, after the golden egg, and I was too damned blind to see it. You're nothing. Just a redheaded little opportunist who saw a good thing and tried to use it. But it wasn't so easy after all, was it, you little tramp. For what it's worth, I was tempted. But even a professional like you can make mistakes, and you're about to learn just how forgiving I am."
"It's not what you think!" she whispered, her eyes pleading with him.
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "More tricks? Save it for a rainy day. I can buy all the women I want, but I'm particular. I don't like second-hand merchandise, even in my mistresses. And I particularly don't like worthless little street-corner tramps like you. You're not worth the powder it'd take to blow you to hell."
She felt the insults as though he'd slapped her across the mouth. All she could do was sit there and take it, and tears welled in her eyes.
He pulled a wad of bills out of his pocket and tossed them carelessly on the foot of her bed. "For services rendered," he said curtly. "I'll have your severance pay mailed to you, and don't bother working out any notice. You are unemployed, Miss Blainn, as of now. You'll have to find another street corner."
With a glance of utter distaste, he turned and stormed out the door. She slammed her face into her pillow and wept like a whipped child.
Vaguely, she heard footsteps and heard Horace's voice close beside her.
"Cuz, don't. Oh, gosh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize he wouldn't know who I was," he said helplessly. "Cuz, do you want me to go after him and explain?"
"No," she choked. "No! He said things to me that I'll never get over, never forget!
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