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Fear made Beth step back, and she gasped, suddenly realising Dex didn't know the truth about her and Paul. 'He is my godfather,' she emphasised, and shivered as his hard face convulsed with rage.
'Tell that to the marines,' he snarled. 'I know the Morrises of this world. They don't befriend innocent little virgins for nothing. And you thought I wasn't good enough for you. What a joke,' he drawled derisively.
Beth's face turned red, and then white with anger. 'I don't give a damn what you think.' Her green eyes blazed in the paleness of her face. 'Paul is my godfather and he does love me—always has, from the day I was born.' She registered the shock in Dex's grey eyes and relished in it. 'And I trekked "halfway across Europe", as you so nicely put it, because Paul asked me to be at his wedding. Now, what is your excuse,' she demanded furiously, 'for knocking out a perfectly innocent man? You great bully!' She hurled the accusation at him, her green eyes, full of contempt, clashing with his.
Dex spun around, stalked back to the car and slammed the passenger door shut as if he wanted to knock it off its hinges. Cristo! He swore long and furiously in a vicious spate of Italian. Then, as Beth watched, he squared his shoulders, tension in every line of his long body, and turned back to face her.
His face a rigid mask, he stepped forward. 'If Morris is your godfather,' he grated in a chillingly quiet voice, 'then why did you not tell me?'
The great Dexter Giordanni had finally made a mistake, Beth realised, her anger subsiding. Finally the moment of truth. Revenge was sweet and she was going to enjoy every second of it.
'You never asked me.' She looked straight up into his dark face. 'In fact, if memory serves me right, we met Paul once in your casino and you never mentioned him again.' Get out of that one, you lying swine, she thought, but didn't say, and almost grinned at the host of conflicting emotions that warred in his steely grey eyes—not least confusion.
'Nothing to say, Dex?' she prompted. The phrase 'hoist by his own petard' sprang to mind.
Dex's head bent and he stared fixedly at the ground for a long moment. The silence stretched, fraught with simmering emotion. Then slowly Dex lifted his head again. He didn't look at her; his eyes avoided hers. His tanned face was a blank mask, but a muscle beating wildly in his cheek betrayed his agitation.
'You're right. I didn't ask you about Morris. I didn't ask because I was violently jealous.' His gaze flicked to hers and Beth was almost fooled by the glint of naked anguish in his eyes, 'Today when I saw you kissing Morris I saw red. It was unforgivable of me to hit him, but you know how I feel about you. How much I want you. I am a jealous, possessive man. I can't help it where you're concerned.'
He took another step towards her, and Beth moved back.
'You're also a lying hound where I am concerned,' she said coldly. 'And have been from the moment we met. So save your play-acting for someone who might appreciate it.' She was disgusted. Even now Dex was not going to admit the truth, and she had had enough.
He watched her, his grey eyes narrowing intently on her small face, then he said curtly, 'I am not acting. Why do you think that?'
Beth looked past him to the edge of the cliff, the deep blue of the sea beyond, and on to the far horizon where the sun was sinking in a red blaze of glory. Her dream of love and happy-ever-after had sunk in very much the same way. Drowned in a red blaze of passion. She tilted her head back and looked up into Dex's face. And it was all his fault.
'Because, Dex, I know everything. I know why you took me out in the first place. You asked me out to keep me away from Paul, the man your sister wanted.'
'No. . .' he denied angrily, reaching out and grabbing her by the shoulders. 'It wasn't like that.'
'Don't bother to deny it, Dex, I heard you say it.' His hands tightened on her flesh, but she didn't care. Beth wasn't frightened any more; she simply wanted the whole sorry mess over and done with.
'When? Where?' he asked, his body rigid.
'The day you came back from New York. The day I called at the Seymour.'
'The day you jilted me,' he cut in, his dark brows drawn together in a frown, his grey eyes searching hers.
'Yes. I didn't leave a note. I didn't visit a sick friend. But I did sit in the outer office at the club. The intercom was on.' She wasn't going to tell him she had switched it on. 'And I heard you discuss in some detail your ex- wife—someone you conveniently forgot to mention to me—your so-called fiancée.'
His hands fell from her shoulders and he drew himself up to his full height. All the colour drained from his face, leaving him grey beneath his tan.
'You were laughing with your friend. Bob, I think?' She arched one delicate brow enquiringly.
'Bob.' He cursed under his breath, and Beth knew he was remembering.
'Yes, you were having a drink with him. You had plenty of time—the girl would wait. You told him you were engaged, but not necessarily getting married, and you also told him why. The girl was going out with your sister's man, and you saw a way to put a stop to it. Fate gave you the opportunity in the guise of Brice Wine Merchants party. Need I go on? Or can you put the rest together yourself?' she taunted him.
'I remember the conversation.' A dark red stain swept up his face. At least he had the grace to blush, Beth thought bitterly. 'And I know how it must have sounded, but—'
'Don't bother explaining.' Beth stopped him, raising her hand. 'I'm not a fool. Your only reason for seeing me was your sister. You recognised me as the girl dining with Paul when your sister threw his dinner over him. You used me, and you were still trying to use me two weeks ago. You even tried to blackmail me.' She laughed, a harsh sound in the silence. 'I spent a week worrying about Mike—until I got the wedding invitation and realised your problem was solved.'
He winced, but responded curtly, 'Not quite. No one told me about Morris. If you had been honest and told me the real reason for jilting me, the rest need never have happened.'
Lifting her chin, Beth stared straight into his eyes. 'Oh, so now it's my fault?' She shook her head, her auburn hair flowing around her face. 'If you had let me finish speaking when we met Paul at the club, instead of dashing us away and kissing me senseless. . .' Beth didn't want to remember their lovemaking and stopped. What was the use of arguing with Dex?
'You're incredible.' Beth shook her head sadly. 'You do exactly what you want, take exactly what you want, and never once questio
