Marriage On The Edge

“I’m sure Jim will provide me with one.”

Natalie turned away from him and sauntered towards the door. It was crazy, but the sight of that stiff, slender back sent Gage’s blood pressure soaring again.

“And I’m sure Grant will know what you can do with your court order,” he said, his voice rising.

She swung to face him, her hand on the doorknob. “I hope so,” she said politely. “I hope, too, that your Mister…Landon? I hope he’s able to do such things, here in Florida.”

Gage blinked. “What?”

“He practices in New York. Isn’t that what you said? And this is Florida. I just hope, for both our sakes, your dear old pal can hang out his shingle in another state because I’m telling you right now, Gage, I don’t want this thing dragging on forever.”

Gage strode towards her. “It won’t. Oh, it won’t.” He grabbed Natalie’s shoulders, drew her up to her toes, lowered his face until they were nose to nose. “Because I’m telling you right now, babe, you can forget about a divorce.”

Natalie turned white. “But you just said…”

“I know what I said!” He let go of her, yanked open the door, and she stumbled backwards into the hall. “I know exactly what I said, dammit.” He slammed the door shut and glared at it. “And I meant every word,” he muttered. “Every mother-loving word.”

Enraged, he kicked the wall, welcomed the sharp pain the thoughtless action sent shooting through his bare toes.

“Every word,” he said, and buried his face in his hands.

CHAPTER THREE

GAGE pushed open the double glass doors that led to the main offices of Baron Resorts. Carol, seated behind the reception desk, gave him her usual sunny smile over the mug of steaming coffee she held in her hands.

“Morning, Mr. Baron.”

Gage glared at her.

“It’s after nine,” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be working.”

Carol’s smile faded. “I am working. I mean, I’m just—”

“You want coffee, wait until your break.” Gage marched past her. “Let’s have a little efficiency around here, if you don’t mind.”

“No, Mr. Baron. I mean, yes, Mr. Baron. I mean—”

He pushed his way through the next set of doors and strode towards his office. His secretary rose to her feet as he swept past her desk.

“Good morning, Mr. Baron. Mr. Folger called. Mr. Okada, too. And there are several faxes from—”

“No calls,” he snapped. “No faxes. No interruptions. Understood?”

Rosa’s dark brows lifted. “Certainly, sir. No interruptions. But—”

Gage swung towards her. “What part of the word ‘no’ don’t you understand?”

Color flooded Rosa’s face. “No part of it, sir.”

“Good. Then don’t disturb me for anything less than a five-alarm fire or an armed insurrection.”

He slammed his office door shut, tossed his briefcase on a low beechwood table…

“Hell,” he muttered, and opened the door again. “Rosa?”

Rosa looked up from her computer keyboard. “Yes, sir?”

Her tone was polite but stiff, and her cheeks were still red. Gage sighed and walked towards her.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to take your head off. It’s just…” Just what, Baron? Just that your wife is leaving you? “It’s just that, ah, that I had a late night.”

Rosa smiled. “I can imagine.”

“Sorry?”

“The Holcombs’s party. According to today’s paper, it was a smashing success.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, it was—terrific.”

“I’ll hold all your calls, Mr. Baron.”

“Thanks. And do me a favor, please. Tell Carol to call Starbuck’s, order herself a couple of pounds of whatever coffee she likes and charge it to me. And tell her I said she can keep a pot of the stuff at her elbow all day long, if that’s what she wants.”

“Sir?”

“Just tell her what I said, okay? She’ll understand.”

“I’ll tell her. And I’ll see to it you’re not disturbed—but there is this one envelope that arrived by messenger this morning…”

Gage sighed and held out his hand. “Okay, okay. Hand it over, though why you’d think something that comes via Express Mail would be…” He frowned as Rosa put the heavy vellum envelope in his hand. “This didn’t come Express Mail.”

“No, sir. It was hand-delivered, as I said.”

He looked at the cream-colored envelope. His name and address had been written in flowing, elegant script.

“It’s quite impressive, sir.”

“It is, indeed.” He grinned. “Probably an advertising gimmick. ‘Come in and test drive our newest super-duper, ultra-luxurious boatmobile.’ Something like that.”

Rosa laughed. “I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Baron. But I thought it might be important.”

“Sure. No need to explain.” Gage smiled. “Just do me a favor and hold everything else, okay? I have some, ah, some thinking I want to do about, ah, about that property in Puerto Rico.”

“Certainly, sir.”

His smile held until he’d shut the door to his office. Then it slid from his face like the mask it was.

“Great job, Baron,” he muttered as he dropped the vellum envelope on his desk. “First you chop off the heads of two of the best people in your office, then you stand there and sputter excuses as if you were a ten-year-old explaining how the ball broke the window.” He yanked off his jacket, loosened his tie, kicked back his swivel chair and collapsed into it. “Next thing you know, you’ll be phoning one of those talk show shrinks and whining out your tale of woe to a million people.”