A raspberry cream, no thanks. She put it back. The next one was white cream—still no good, and she put it back. Aren’t there any caramels? By the third one, Max snapped, “Stop that!”
Billie jumped. “I thought you were sleeping!”
“Obviously, you can’t be trusted.”
“But I have to know what they are!”
“You must be the last person to know this.” He sat up, showing her the inside of the cover.
Her jaw dropped. “You’re kidding. How handy is that?”
With a sigh, Max dropped back down on the bed. “I think we should go out tonight. We have been on the run since I got here. We could use a break. What do you say?”
“I say yes. Where should we go?” Billie replied.
“How about dinner and dancing at that little place down the block?”
“Café Freya?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like fun. There’s a dress I’ve had my eye on down at the hotel gift shop,” she said, walking over to the vanity to check her hair. “I’m going to run down and see if it’s still there. It would be just the thing.”
“Okay,” Max said. “I’ll be back later.”
Max reappeared at 8 p.m. dressed in a light gray, double-breasted suit that showed off his broad shoulders and narrow waist. He had gone down to the lobby to get his shoes polished and bought some new cuff links. He was holding a fedora.
“You look dashing, Mr. Rothman,” Billie said.
He ran his eyes over Billie’s gown. “And you were right. That dress is just the thing, Miss Bassett.”
Like her other dress, this gown was a filmy summer fabric with a low back and short flowing sleeves. Very faint pastel flowers were splashed on this one. It looked dramatic next to her thick, dark hair.
“I thought the print looked like a watercolor painting,” she said.
“So it does,” Max replied and presented his arm.
As they passed through the lobby, Billie murmured. “I feel guilty having fun tonight. I can’t stop thinking about Elise.”
“I know, but we have a long road ahead, and we’ll be better prepared if we are rested and our heads are clear.”
At the café, they sat by the sidewalk having a drink and watching people pass on the street. The lanterns hanging overhead cast a golden glow over their small table as the band played jazz dance music. Max stood up and offered Billie his hand. The song was “All of Me,” and he moved her around the floor in a foxtrot.
“Having fun now?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said and went back to resting her cheek on his face. “Remember when we heard Holiday sing this?”
“Yes, I do. It was New Year’s Eve,” Max replied. “I’ll never forget it.”
“We’ve known each other long enough now to have memories, Max.”
“I even remember what you were wearing.”
Billie pulled back and looked at him. “Men don’t remember things like that.”
“This one does.”
“What was I wearing?”
“A silver satin gown—form-fitting and backless like this,” and he ran his finger along her spine, “and silver earrings.”
Billie laughed. “You’re right.”
After dancing to a few more songs, they went back to the table and ordered supper. They had a leisurely meal, enjoying the beautiful evening.
Billie took a deep breath of the fresh night air. She had never felt more alive. She couldn’t understand it. Here she was in a country on the verge of war, resurrected from the dead like Frankenstein’s monster, and she felt safe. Looking across the table, she knew the answer; Max was why she felt secure.
He put his cigarette out and said, “‘Someone to Watch Over Me.’ I like this one. Let’s dance to it.”
“You were reading my mind,” she replied, stepping into his arms.
Maybe it was her imagination, but he seemed to be holding her closer than he normally did when they danced. His hand felt hot on her bare back, and he was pressing her more firmly to his chest. And did his lips just brush against her ear?
“You know that I watch over you,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
“Do you mind?”
“No, I like it.”
“Billie, I─” He pulled back, looking into her eyes.
She waited for him to go on. But there was a strange look on his face, and he seemed to be struggling for words. Instead of speaking, Max put his hand behind her head and drew her into a kiss.
Billie’s heart jumped. The warm softness of his lips and the sudden feeling of his moist tongue touching her own flooded her with desire. He pulled her to his chest, crushing her breasts against his suit coat. All her dreams returned in a rush, dreams of Max’s hands between her legs or kissing her nipples, dreams of him making love to her with an intensity that hurt.
Suddenly, she realized what was happening, and with a sudden gasp, she stepped back. “Max, what are you doing?”
He looked at her with confusion in his eyes. “I thought you─” he stammered, “I was under the impression─” Unable to find the right words, he drew her back into his arms and went on dancing. Billie’s heart was hammering so hard she felt breathless. The song ended, and they went back to the table.
“Did you think for a moment I was someone else?” she asked.
“I guess I did.”
She heard the sarcasm in his voice. Shortly after that, they returned to the hotel. The magic of the evening was over. Everything about the night had turned sour.
* * *
Over the next few days, Max drank heavily. He was never inebriated, but he sipped on scotch all day to take the edge off his anxiety. Now more than ever, he felt pressure to tell Billie that he loved her. Anything could happen in the next few days. He could lose her, and she would never know how he adored her. There was no one on earth he would rather laugh with, cry with, and grow old with.
But she refused to listen, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to try again. The kiss on the dance floor had confused him completely. For months, he thought she wanted him only as a friend, but during that kiss, he felt her responding. Then she denied it.
He had known so many women in his life. Why did he have to choose the one who did not love him? He wanted her so badly he could taste it. He thought about making love to her constantly. She was in his dreams at night and in his daytime fantasies. It was all he could do to keep his eyes on her face when she was talking and not linger on that sensuous mouth or her round breasts. He wanted to see her naked body, run his lips over her skin, and watch her gasp in ecstasy.
And overall, the most appealing thing about Billie was that she had no idea how beautiful she was. She possessed a quiet grace, not flashy and cheap, but rich, complex, and seductive.
Well, he would have to tell her of his love later. But when? Would the right time ever come? He sighed and took a pull of his drink. One thing he knew for certain, woe to anyone who tried to harm her.
* * *
After the dance floor kiss, Billie was uncomfortable around Max, and the whole thing made her angry. Now, when they needed each other the most, there was trouble between them. Why had he done it? Their relationship was perfect the way it was. She did well with men when they were friends; lovers were another story. He had to go and ruin it.
Yet, she could not deny it. Her attraction to Max could no longer be smothered. She had found him appealing from the first moment she had met him, and the desire had only grown stronger, and now it was to the point of being out of control. She had almost succumbed the other night when he kissed her, but she had stopped just in time. They definitely did not need a love affair clouding their judgment right now.
Billie looked at her watch. It was almost time for the evening paper. It had been days and still nothing in an obituary from the asylum contact, so she headed down to the lobby again. Max was already there. He had just bought the paper. They sat down on a sofa, and he opened the paper, mumbling, “I�
�m beginning to wonder if this person even exists.”
Billie ordered coffee from the lobby attendant. After the woman left, Max whispered, “At last, there it is. ‘Alfred Dinkleman, survived by his wife Pollyanna. Memorial service at 14:00. 22nd August 1936 at 76 Simeonstraße apt. 202. ”
Billie sighed. “The meeting is tomorrow. Perhaps now we can get on with things.”
They were quiet over coffee. When they finished, Max said, “I think I’ll just eat in my room tonight.”
“Are you sick?”
He rubbed his forehead. “No, I just need some time.”
“Time for what?” she pressed.
“Nothing.”
“Max is there something you aren’t telling me?”
“No, I want to be alone!”
“All right, Garbo,” she said.
They returned to their rooms, and Billie sat down, putting her fist to her lips. Something was wrong with Max, something more than her rejecting the kiss. For as long as she had known him, he had never stuffed his feelings. If anything, he was too quick to emote. What plagued him? Frank’s death? Was he ill? He had been drinking more lately. Was he using alcohol to kill some sickness or pain?
“I hate this!” she muttered. “Everything has changed.”
There was a knock on the door. It was Max. “I need to talk to you,” he said, stepping into the room.
“Good,” she replied.
He took off his suit coat, threw it on a chair, and started to pace. “Bassett, things are going to start happening tomorrow, and they’re going to happen fast. One of us could—one of us could─”
“I know.”
He stopped pacing and looked at her. “So, it has to be said.”
When Billie saw the look on his face, she started shaking her head vigorously. “No, Max. Not this foolishness again.”
In two steps, he was upon her, grabbing her arms. “You’ll not put me off this time. Billie, I love you. Can’t you see it?”
“I can see you are swept up in the drama around us.”
“You must know that it started long before this.” He put his hands on her cheeks. “How can someone so smart be so dull-witted about love? Can’t you see it? It’s written all over me.”
She broke away from him and walked to the window. “Maybe I’ve seen it. Maybe I’ve ignored it. Because—because we’re friends.” Facing him, she said firmly. “And Max that’s as deep as it goes.”
His lips parted, and she saw the pain in his eyes. He nodded. “Then it must end here because I can’t continue with this charade. I can’t be friends with you, Billie, not any longer. I’m going down now to have the concierge book you on the next ship home.”
“I won’t go!”
“You will!” he roared.
Max grabbed his jacket and stormed from the room.
Billie clutched her arms, staring straight ahead, motionless. He’ll change his mind. He’ll have me stay. He’s just being dramatic. But there was a part of her that was afraid, deeply afraid of losing him.
Max!” she cried and dashed from the room.
He was stepping onto the elevator.
“Max!” she called. “Come on! This is so silly.”
“Not to me,” he said.
The operator closed the gate, and the elevator disappeared.
Billie let out a muffled scream and stomped back to her room. When she tried the door, it was locked. “Damn it!” she cried and kicked it. Leaning against the wall, she put her face into her hands and sobbed.
Suddenly, she looked up and exclaimed, “I can’t let this happen!” Wiping her face on her sleeve, she ran down the hall and pushed frantically on the elevator button. Just as she was about to take the stairs, it came down.
The operator opened the door, and Billie stepped on. Max was still there. She looked at him with surprise. “You’re still on?”
He put his chin in the air and replied, “I was going to the lobby. The operator didn’t tell me she was going up.”
“I told you, sir, but you weren’t listening,” the operator said stiffly.
Billie stifled a laugh and moved close to Max. Her shoulder was touching his arm. When they reached the lobby, she grabbed his hand and pulled him around the corner behind a huge potted palm.
He scowled at her.
“Max, I─” She hesitated. Her heart was hammering so hard she could barely breathe. “All my life, I have been friends with men. And any attraction I felt I automatically stifled. You must understand I did it to stay safe. The one time I allowed it to go beyond friendship, it ended in disaster. So, I tried to keep what you and I had sacred. I couldn’t take a chance on losing it.”
Max searched her eyes.
“But it happened. I couldn’t protect our friendship any longer.” She took a deep breath and said, “I fell in love with you. And it has been like a miracle.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “I have loved just once in this life, Max, and it will be for a lifetime.”
Chapter 27
“We should try to get some sleep,” Max murmured to Billie, rumpled sheets and blankets all around them.
“Yes, but I’ve never had so much fun with a best friend,” she replied.
After their declaration of love, Max and Billie had gone to Max’s suite, where they awakened a side of their relationship they had only dreamed of indulging. And it was beyond their wildest expectations.
Max was insatiable. His passion had been smothered for so long he couldn’t make love to Billie enough. The first time, he was so aroused it took all his strength not to rush to fulfillment. It was grueling holding back the passion, but when he watched her experience the ecstasy he’d hoped for, he knew it was worth the wait. After satisfying his initial desire, he was at last able to take things at a leisurely pace. He explored every part of Billie, experimenting and trying all manner of ways to heighten her pleasure and his own.
Between interludes, Max would marvel at the happiness. He was making love to Billie! At last, their relationship had realized its full potential.
For Billie, the experience was different. At first, she was hesitant. Her passion had smoldered for so long it was difficult for her to allow it complete expression. But Max was skilled beyond belief. When he ran his lips over every inch of her body, licking her nipples, running his tongue up her thighs, the flame burst into fire. She, in turn, teased him into a frenzy, caressing every inch of him.
Yet, for all the passion, the best part was being in his arms afterward. It was only then she could appreciate the magnitude of the most sublime act between lovers. At those moments, she would flood with joy, savoring the knowledge that they were not only friends but lovers.
At last, they slept but only a few hours. Max was awakened by his hunger for Billie once more, and they made love again as the sun was coming up. Just as she was dozing off, there was a knock on the door.
“Oh, that’s right,” Max said, throwing back the covers. “I have a standing order for breakfast at this time.”
Pulling on his pajama bottoms, he answered the door and took the tray from the waiter. Bringing it over, he placed it on the nightstand and poured them a cup of coffee to share. Billie pushed herself up, took a sip, and handed it back to him.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
She shook her head. “You know I don’t eat in the morning.”
“I know almost everything about you,” he said. “And now I know even more.” He raised his eyebrows.
“You certainly do,” she said, stretching. She was cold and grabbed his pajama shirt from the chair. When she put it on, it was too big for her, and Max smiled.
“You look sexy in that,” he observed, reaching over and squeezing her breast. “I can only imagine what lurks under there.”
Billie laughed. “You don’t have to imagine anymore.”
“I used to—a lot.” He swung his legs over and sat on the edge of the bed, starting to eat. After taking a bite of sausage, he said, “So when are we getting married
?”
Billie, who was sipping coffee, started to choke. Clearing her throat, she asked, “What?”
“Married, let’s get married.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” she asked, laughing. “Do I have to make an honest man of you? Is this a Jewish thing?”
“Would it help if I said yes to both?”
“Just over twelve hours ago, I admitted I was in love with you. Aren’t you pushing it?”
He slid over and pulled her into his arms. “I’ve been waiting longer than you. Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“And we can honeymoon at Saxonburg Asylum,” she said sarcastically.
“Good idea. It is a fancy estate.”
Billie pushed him away. “Seriously, Max, no. I want to get through all this and then celebrate.”
“All right, all right,” he said, going back to the edge of the bed to eat.
Crawling up behind him, she put her arms around his waist. “I know you’re worried about—well something happening, but we’ve already pledged ourselves to one another. Nothing can change that.”
He reached back and stroked her cheek. “Right again, Bassett. Now, will you please eat something?”
* * *
That afternoon, they went to meet their permanent contact. The residence was in a well-kept part of Berlin with clean apartment buildings, manicured parks, and tidy shops. They walked up to the second floor and knocked on the door of the apartment.
A tiny, pasty-faced man with almost no hair, round glasses, and thin lips answered the door. “Mr. Dinkelman?” Max asked.
“Yes, come in,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“This is my sister, Miss Dinkelman,” the man said. She was an obese woman with red cheeks, gray curls, and a big smile.
“How do you do?”
Billie was dumbfounded. The Dinkelmans were not at all what she was expecting. They looked so wholesome and ordinary, not at all like intelligence agents. She looked around the flat. It was filled with comfortable furniture and loads of German knick-knacks. There was a cuckoo clock on the wall, a china cabinet holding figurines of children in lederhosen, beer steins on a shelf, nutcrackers, and snow globes.
The Image Seeker Page 27