Chapter 12

I noticed two things immediately: the possessive blonde clinging to
Mark's sleeve like a parasite, and the sudden, blazing fury in Mark's
eyes as he looked at me.

"Oh, there you are, darl...ing." Brenda said as she noticed the dress. "How...different you look, Jaime," she added with a disapproving glance.

"Where did you get that dress?" Mark asked in a harsh, low voice.

I started to speak, then darted a glance at Glenn, who was burying his
face in his hands. "Glen bought it for me," I replied quickly.

"Jaime!" Glenn groaned.

Mark smiled, like a hungry baracuda. "I'll discuss this with you later,
Glenn."

"Could we make it after Jaime's funeral?" Glenn asked.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your guests?" I asked.

"Vince McMahon and his daughter, Melissa," Mark said indicating a tall
man with twinkling eyes and the equally blue-eyed blonde at Mark's
side. "This is Jaime."

"Ross." I added. "I'm the youngest, next to Glenn."

"How do you do?" Vince asked and extended his hand to shake. He smiled.
"Not Callaway, then?" he asked.

"I'm a cousin. Brenda and the family took me in when my parents died,
and brought me up."

"Apparenty not too successfully," Mark said, his eyes promising
retribution as they seared a path down my body, lingering on the
plunging neckline.

"If you don't stop picking on me, Mark." I said sweetly, accepting a
glass of chardinay from Glenn. "I'll hit you with my teddy bear."

Melissa didn't look amused, although her thin lips managed to smile.

"How old are you, Miss Ross?"

"Much younger than you, Miss McMahon, I'm sure." I replied with an
equally false smile.

Glenn choked on his drink. "Uh, how was your trip, Mel?" he asked the
blonde quickly.

"Very nice, thanks." she replied, her eyes cutting a hole through me.
"Lovely dress. What there is of it."

"This old thing?" I said, my eyes speaking volumes as they studied the
rose silk gown the blonde was wearing. "It's warm at least. I don't
really care for these new fashions - some of them look more like
nighties than dresses."

Miss McMahon's face colored, her blue eyes lighting life firecrackers.

"Let's eat," Brenda said suddenly.

"Lead the way, Mother," Mark said. Amusement was vying with anger in
his eyes, and just for an instant, amusement won. But then his dark
eyes slid sideways to me, and the smile faded. His eyes curved over the
exposed skin of my neckline, and I felt as if he had touched me. My
lips parted under a rush of breath, and he looked up suddenly and caught the expression on my face. Something flared in his dark eyes, like a minor volcanic eruption, and I knew that I was going to be in the middle of a war before the night was over. But I managed to return Mark's glance, and even smiled. If was going to be the main course on his menu, I might as well enjoy the appetizer first.

"Glenn dropped back beside me as they made their way into the dining room.

"Feeling suicidal" he asked under his breath. "He's blazing, and that
sweet little smile didn't help.'

"Revelutionaries can't afford to worry about tomorrow. Besides, Mark
can't eat me."

"Can't he?" he asked, casting a glance toward Mark, who was glaring at
us over Melissa's bright head.

"Glen you aren't really afraid of him, are you. After all, you're
brothers."

"So were Cain and Abel."

"Don't worry, I'll protect you." I said, patting him on the shoulder.

"Please don't. Why did you have to tell him that I bought you that
dress?" Glen asked.

"But you did sign for it." I pointed out.

"I know, but buying it wasn't my idea."

"Be reasonable Glen. If I'd told him it was my idea, he'd have gone
straight for my throat." I said, touching my throat lightly.

"And having him go for mine was a better idea?" Glen asked.

"From my point of view, it was. Oh, Glenn, I'm sorry, really I am, I'll
tell him the truth."

"If you get the chance." he muttered, nodding toward Mark.

Mark seated Melissa and then turned to hold out a chair for me. I
approached it with the same wariness as a condemned terrorist headed for the gas chamber.

"Nice party," I said under my breath as I sat down.

"And it's only beginning," he said with a smile that didn't reach his
eyes. "Make one more snide remark to Melissa and I'll grind you into
the carpet, Jaime Dawn Ross."

I gave him a cool glance. "She started it," I said under my breath.

"Jealous?" he taunted me softly.

My eyes jerked up to his, blazing with fire. "Of her? I'm not fifteen
anymore."

"Before the night's over, you're going to wish you were. I promise
you." He told me.

The deep anger in his voice sent chills running all over me. Why did I
have to open my mouth and challenge him again? Hadn't I had enough
warning? I felt a surge of fear at what lay ahead. It seemed that I
couldn't stop fighting Mark lately, and I wondered at my own temerity.
Was I going crazy?

One glance at his set face down the table from me was enough to make me
want to run upstairs and bar the door.

Dinner was an ordeal. Melissa monopolized Mark to such an extent that he was hardly able to carry on a conversation with anyone else, but her
cold blue eyes made frequent pilgrimages to my face. The animosity in them was freezing.

"You're not doing much for international relations," Glenn remarked as
we went to the living room for after-dinner drinks.

"Mark's doing enough for both of us," I replied, darting a cool glance
at the blonde, who was clinging to Mark's big muscular arm as if he were a life raft. "He has bad taste," I said without even thinking about it.

"I wouldn't say that," Glen disagreed. His eyes surveyed the blonde's
back. "She's pretty easy on the eyes."

"Is she? Frankly she doesn't do a thing for me." I said, snorting.

"Don't be sour. You forget why she is here. Remember the strike?"

"Oh, I remember. But does Mark. I thought her father was the focus
point."

"Part of it, at least."

"What do you mean, Glen?"

"You'll know soon enough. Look, Mother's motioning for you."

"You're doing it again," she moaned darting a glance in Mark's
direction. "He's ready to chew nails. Jaime, can't you manage not to
antagonize him for just one evening? The McMahon's are our guests,
remember?"

"They're Mark's guests."

"Well, it is Marks' house. Father left it all to him. He felt Mark
would keep me from spending it away." Brenda said, sadly.

"You wouldn't have."

"Perhaps. But it's a point. You aren't improving Marks' disposition you
know."

"All I did was buy a new dress."

"It's much too old for you. Glen hasn't taken his eyes off you all
night, and every time he looks at you, Mark scowls more."

"Glen and I aren't related, after all."

"And there's no one I'd rather see him marry, you know that. But Mark
doesn't approve, and he could make things very difficult for you."

"He doesn't approve of any man I date."

"It will work itself out. Meanwhile, please at least be civil with Miss
McMahon. It's terribly important that we make a good impression on them
both. I can't tell you any more than that, but do trust me."

"I will."

"Now be a dear and help me entertain Vince. Mark is going to drive
Melissa to town and show her how the city looks at night. She was
curious, for some reason that escapes me."

It didn't escape me, and it didn't improve my mood. Especially when I
watched Melissa and Mark go out the door without one backward glance. I
wanted to pick up the priceless vase in the hall and heave it at Mark's
dark head. In the end, I consoled myself with the fact that at least I
didn't have to face Mark until morning. That was a blessing in itself.