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"I've got to pick up something for Mike—if you don't mind," he added sarcastically.
"Oh, all right, but will you please hurry?" she ground out, peering around him
toward the deserted driveway.
He went into the study and ruffled through some papers on the desk. His narrowed
eyes studied her quickly.
"Uh, it sure is hot out there," he murmured, toss-ing her a brief glance. "Do you
think I could have a small glass of wine—just to take off the top layer of heat?"
"Ralley . . .!"
"I know Mike keeps a bottle of port chilled." He grinned. "Come on, Nikki, have pity
on a poor, hot reporter."
"All right, but just one glass," she muttered, run-ning for the kitchen. "I'm going
out."
He murmured something, but she didn't stay around long enough to hear it.
Her ears strained for the sound of a car as she poured him a glass of the chilled
port from the refrig-erator and raced back to the study to hand it to him
"Ummm," he murmured, sipping it. "That's deli-cious. Thanks, Nikki."
She was literally wringing her hands. Why didn't he go? The sound of a car caught
her attention.
"It's Cal!" she burst out. But as she moved, so did
Ralley, and seconds later, the port was all down the front of her white knit suit.
"Oh, Nikki, I'm so sorry!" he burst out, grabbing a handkerchief from his pocket.
"Here . . ."
"That won't do, you idiot, I've got to change!" She couldn't let Cal see her like this!
"Ralley, tell Cal I'll be right down!" she told him, and dashed up the stairs.
The minute she was out of sight, Ralley began to take off his clothes. By the time
the doorbell rang, he was down to his briefs. He walked calmly to the door, with the
wineglass still in his hand, ruffling his hair in the process. He wiped the smile off
his lips just as he jerked the door open.
Cal, dressed in dark evening clothes with a shirt that probably cost more
thanRalley's entire ward-robe, seemed to implode at the sight of the younger man.
"Where's Nikki?" he asked in a deep, softly dan-gerous tone.
"Upstairs, waiting for me, of course," Ralley drawled, lifting the empty glass.
"She'll be sorry she missed you. . . ."
"Cal!"
They both turned as Nikki gaped helplessly at the tableau below, dressed in
nothing but her slip, the dark stain of the wine just faintly visible where it had
seeped through. Her face contorted in something like agony. What Cal obviously
believed was in his taut expression and she saw immediately that it was going to be
useless to plead her case. Ralley smiled inso-lently, and Nikki wanted to strangle
him with her bare hands.
"Hello, darling, lookwho's here." Ralley laughed.
Cal's huge fists clenched at his side. He didn't say a word to Nikki, but his dark
eyes spoke volumes. He turned to Ralley and with a move so quick that Nikki missed
it, he threw a shattering punch at the younger man. Ralley didn't have time to
dodge it. It caught him square on the jaw and sent him sprawling side-ways on the
polished wood floor.
Cal's blazing eyes went from the fallen, groaning man on the floor to Nikki, frozen
on the staircase.
"Excuse me for breaking up the party," he said in a voice that dripped ice water. "I
thought we had a date, but obviously I was mistaken."
He spared Ralley a final, contemptuous glance before he opened the door and
stormed out.
Tears bled down Nikki's pale cheeks. She couldn't remember a time in her life
when she'd hurt as much.
Ralley dragged himself to his feet, gingerly touch-ing his jaw. "He's got a punch
like a mule," he groaned.
Nikki only stared at him, hurting like she'd never hurt before.
Belatedly he looked up and saw her face. He stood there, watching her with eyes in
which comprehen-sion began to shine. "You really lovehim,don't you?" he asked
quietly.
She didn't even answer the question. "Please get dressed and go away," she said in
a ghost of her normal voice. "You can't imagine how silly you look."
She turned and went back into her bedroom, clos-ing the door firmly behind her.
There was a faint knock at the door.
"Nikki. . ." Ralley called through it, his voice sad, faintly embarrassed. "Nikki, he
wrote telling you he was coming. I. . . I intercepted the note at the office. I'm
sorry."
But she didn't answer him. She was crying too hard.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nikki went downstairs an hour later, when she'd had a bath she didn't need and put
on a beige pant suit and blotted her eyes for the tenth time. She'd cried until her
eyes were raw. But all the tears in the river wouldn't bring Cal back, and she knew
it.
Ralley had gone home, and it was beginning to get dark outside. Nikki poured
herself a glass of wine and dumped it down her throat. She still felt misera-ble, so
she refilled the glass and drank it down. Damn Ralley—when she got herself
together enough, she was going to kill him. On second thought there must be
something worse than that she could do to him. Perhaps she could write a false
expose on the police chief and publish it under his by-line. She remem-bered the
size and temper of the public official and smiled halfheartedly. Ralley would be
turned into chili powder. Unfortunately so would Mike, who would be blamed for it.
With a sigh she refilled the glass once more and sat down on the sofa.
It was just as well, she told herself. Cal lived in a different world. She'd never
have been able to cope. Her eyesteared again and the hot, bright dots rolled
pitifully down her cheeks.
Her mind went homing back to Nassau, to that unexpected night with Cal. All over
again she could feel his hands, so tender, so wary of hurting her, his mouth blazing
on her bare skin while he whispered words that still could make her blush.
She got up, almost tripping over the rug, and walked the floor, sipping at the red
wine. She'd never see him again. She'd grow old and spend her misera-ble life
trying to make do with memories. And it just wasn't going to be enough. All the
memories on earth wouldn't amount to one minute with Cal. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]