The Bed You Make
Chapter 15, concluded
Dara grew more and more relieved with each stolen examination of her things. Mrs. Landsbury had packed just for Dara two suitcases, a garment bag, an overnight bag and a makeup kit. While dressing for their meeting, Dara had managed to check out the contents of the larger suitcase and the garment bag. Both met with her relieved approval.
“Tell me again about Russell Lee.” Dara studiously avoided looking through the open bedroom door. She was fairly sure that Stefan was occupied in front of the bathroom mirror trimming his facial hair. She did not put it past him, however, to appear in the doorway bare-chested and damp from his shower. It was a frequent occurrence at Wyndemere. To Stefan's credit, Dara did not believe he did it with her discomfort in mind.
Stefan stepped out of the bedroom. Like Dara, he was fully dressed. He smoothed a non-existent stray hair back into place among its closely trimmed brethren adorning his chin. “Among his people,” Stefan said, “Russell Lee is considered an American. Primarily,” he explained, “because of his unconventional behavior in both his business and private lives.”
“I take it,” Dara surmised, “that being called an American is not a flattering thing for him.”
“No.” Stefan's cell phone rang. With a single graceful motion he retrieved it and placed it to his ear. “Yes?…Very good.” Stefan closed the phone. “Our guest has arrived and is on his way to the suite.”
Dara frowned. She looked at her wristwatch. “He's twenty-two minutes early!”
Stefan nodded. “I assumed that he would be.” He gestured toward the door of the suite. “Shall we prepare to meet our guest?”
Dara took a final glance at her appearance. “Let's go.”
The couple only had to wait a moment or so before their guest's knock sounded against their door. “Welcome, Mr. Lee.”
“Thank you, Stefan Cassadine.”
The two men shook hands. “This,” Stefan turned Dara's way, “is my wife, Dara Jensen Cassadine.”
Russell Lee ignored the hand Dara extended. When he finally did make a move her way, it was not to shake her hand but to run a callused thumb back and forth along Dara's lower lip. “Damn,” the handsome Asian chemist growled deep in his throat. He paid no attention to the dangerous stillness of the man opposite him. “Too. Damn. Sexy.”