unyielding as stone.
“I pity your new wife,” Valerie declared with passionate contempt. She was shaking with the force of her anger. “Does she know yet that she's married a man who shapes his whole life around something that happened fifteen years ago?”
Valerie did not wait for an answer. She spun around, dashing the tears from her eyes.
She collided with Annie who was trying to get out of her way.
“Annie. My God.”
“Excuse me.” Annie steadied Valerie gently. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. No. I just want to get out of here.” Valerie pushed past her. “I hope you know what you've done by marrying my brother, Annie. I think you're going to be very, very sorry.”
Valerie rushed off down the hall. Annie gazed after her. A moment later the front door opened and immediately slammed shut. Annie turned around and glanced into the study.
Oliver sat unmoving behind his black lacquer desk. The halogen light splashed across his folded hands and threw the rest of him into deep shadow.
Annie took a step forward and came to a halt in the doorway. In the corner of the room near the rock garden, the jeweled leopard crouched, watching her with the same unblinking gaze Oliver used to such effect.
“Your sister seemed a little upset,” Annie ventured.
“She'll get over it.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” Oliver paused and then added very politely, “Thank you.”
Annie hesitated, aware that she was being warned away just as she had been warned off the subject of Sybil last night. But she felt she had to at least try to get Oliver to communicate. “Would you like to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to discuss this kind of thing.”
“I hope,” Oliver said with a faint trace of amusement, “that you're not going to offer to help me get in touch with my feelings.”
Annie glowered at him. “Forget it. If you don't want to talk about it, that's your problem. In the meantime we have another little matter that needs settling.”
“What's that?”
“Bolt is fixing dinner.”
“That's one of his duties here. He's an excellent chef.”
“I'm sure he is.” Annie crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder against the door jamb. “The man's a machine. He can do anything so long as he's plugged in. But we don't need a cordon bleu chef tonight. I'm cooking dinner.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. We're going to have tacos. I picked up all the ingredients at Pike Place Market including a dozen of the best corn tortillas you've ever tasted. But first you have to kick Bolt out of my kitchen.”
“Your kitchen?”
“You want me to duel with him for kitchen rights?”
Oliver got to his feet. “No, I think we've had enough dramatics around here already this evening. If you're sure you want to do the cooking, I'll send Bolt home.”
Annie smiled with satisfaction. It was a small battle, woman against machine, but she had won it. “Mind if I come along to watch?”
Oliver's brow rose as he started down the hall toward the kitchen. “Hoping to see a little blood spilled?”
“Certainly not. I just want to see Bolt's face when you let him know that I can give a few orders around here.”
Oliver looked thoughtful. “It looks like I'm about to become an expert in the problems of domestic management. Do all new husbands go through this?”
“There is a period of adjustment in any marriage,” Annie said loftily.
“I'll keep that in mind.”
Bolt looked up from paring potatoes as Oliver and Annie walked into the kitchen.
“Sir?”
“We won't be needing your services tonight, Bolt. Take the evening off,” Oliver said.
Bolt glanced at Annie. His face showed no hint of emotion, but it was obvious he knew he'd lost the skirmish. “Yes, sir.”
Annie immediately felt guilty. Poor Bolt. He had a right to feel as if he'd been usurped. She was the newcomer around here. “Here, let me help you.” She hurried over to the sink and began cleaning up the
“I pity your new wife,” Valerie declared with passionate contempt. She was shaking with the force of her anger. “Does she know yet that she's married a man who shapes his whole life around something that happened fifteen years ago?”
Valerie did not wait for an answer. She spun around, dashing the tears from her eyes.
She collided with Annie who was trying to get out of her way.
“Annie. My God.”
“Excuse me.” Annie steadied Valerie gently. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. No. I just want to get out of here.” Valerie pushed past her. “I hope you know what you've done by marrying my brother, Annie. I think you're going to be very, very sorry.”
Valerie rushed off down the hall. Annie gazed after her. A moment later the front door opened and immediately slammed shut. Annie turned around and glanced into the study.
Oliver sat unmoving behind his black lacquer desk. The halogen light splashed across his folded hands and threw the rest of him into deep shadow.
Annie took a step forward and came to a halt in the doorway. In the corner of the room near the rock garden, the jeweled leopard crouched, watching her with the same unblinking gaze Oliver used to such effect.
“Your sister seemed a little upset,” Annie ventured.
“She'll get over it.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” Oliver paused and then added very politely, “Thank you.”
Annie hesitated, aware that she was being warned away just as she had been warned off the subject of Sybil last night. But she felt she had to at least try to get Oliver to communicate. “Would you like to talk about it? Sometimes it helps to discuss this kind of thing.”
“I hope,” Oliver said with a faint trace of amusement, “that you're not going to offer to help me get in touch with my feelings.”
Annie glowered at him. “Forget it. If you don't want to talk about it, that's your problem. In the meantime we have another little matter that needs settling.”
“What's that?”
“Bolt is fixing dinner.”
“That's one of his duties here. He's an excellent chef.”
“I'm sure he is.” Annie crossed her arms and leaned one shoulder against the door jamb. “The man's a machine. He can do anything so long as he's plugged in. But we don't need a cordon bleu chef tonight. I'm cooking dinner.”
“Are you?”
“Yes. We're going to have tacos. I picked up all the ingredients at Pike Place Market including a dozen of the best corn tortillas you've ever tasted. But first you have to kick Bolt out of my kitchen.”
“Your kitchen?”
“You want me to duel with him for kitchen rights?”
Oliver got to his feet. “No, I think we've had enough dramatics around here already this evening. If you're sure you want to do the cooking, I'll send Bolt home.”
Annie smiled with satisfaction. It was a small battle, woman against machine, but she had won it. “Mind if I come along to watch?”
Oliver's brow rose as he started down the hall toward the kitchen. “Hoping to see a little blood spilled?”
“Certainly not. I just want to see Bolt's face when you let him know that I can give a few orders around here.”
Oliver looked thoughtful. “It looks like I'm about to become an expert in the problems of domestic management. Do all new husbands go through this?”
“There is a period of adjustment in any marriage,” Annie said loftily.
“I'll keep that in mind.”
Bolt looked up from paring potatoes as Oliver and Annie walked into the kitchen.
“Sir?”
“We won't be needing your services tonight, Bolt. Take the evening off,” Oliver said.
Bolt glanced at Annie. His face showed no hint of emotion, but it was obvious he knew he'd lost the skirmish. “Yes, sir.”
Annie immediately felt guilty. Poor Bolt. He had a right to feel as if he'd been usurped. She was the newcomer around here. “Here, let me help you.” She hurried over to the sink and began cleaning up the
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