by Robert Colby
Wyckoff was a man who had seen it all and done it all and had all of it, often with the giant yawn of a rich man’s surfeit. And still he knew that Bonnie was the best, though they had met only six weeks ago.
She kicked off her shoes and went toward him with the unaffected grace of a lusty animal. Her hair fell in long waves to her shoulders. It was styled simply, none of the manufactured beauty-shop busyness of curl, or the short tight bob — the creation of fairies to make men out of girls.
He watched the long taper and swell of her body with anticipation as strong as anger. It was good to feel alive and hunger-driven, for there was so little which he wanted or needed any more.
He was about to reach for her but she plucked the drink from his hand and sat down with a little smile of amusement “What the hell,” he said. “More games?” “You know me better, Floyd. Won’t you wait for tonight?”
The train had slowed and there was the hollow drum of wheels pounding over a bridge.
“I’m not much good at waiting. I gave it up years ago People wait for me now.” He dropped down beside her.
“I know,” she said. “And isn’t this a refreshing change?”
“Listen, Bonnie, don’t give me a hard time. Understand?” But he rather liked her independence. All the others had been so damn docile. “You put me off last night, too.”
“Do you think it was fun for me? I told you, I didn’t want the porter, the conductor or someone else catching me sneaking in and out of here in the middle of the night. I shouldn’t be here now. When I leave, you’ll have to check first to see if anyone’s around.”
“Hell, next time I’ll hire a special car.”
“It’s just another hour or so to Miami,” she said.
“We pulled out of Palm Beach forty minutes late. The railroads don’t give a damn about time any more, even on these express runs from New York. They want to discourage the passengers so they can haul nothing but freight. Sure you wouldn’t rather stay at a hotel?”
“No.” She shook her head vigorously. “Remember, Miami used to be my town. I know a lot of people there. I don’t want to take a chance running into someone.”
“Well, I don’t suppose this girl friend of yours and her husband think you want to use their house for charades.”
“Jane and Vince are two people I can trust, no questions asked.”
“Sure they won’t come barging in?”
“Never. They were glad to stay over at the beach for a weekend, especially after I sent them your two hundred bucks. To them, that’s a lot of money. Now don’t worry — and don’t expect the kind of palace you’re accustomed to. It’s just a little house, two tiny bedrooms and a bath.”
“On the contrary,” he said. “I’m looking forward to it. You bet I am.” He put his arms around her and pulled her close. She settled against him with a sigh.
“Love me?” she said.
He groaned. “Don’t start that. Don’t play any moonlight songs for me, honey. I told you from the beginning where I stand.”
“Wouldn’t you rather be married to me?”
“I’d rather be in bed with you than anyone else. I don’t want to discuss the rest of it again. Period. If you want an end to this, you’re on the right track.”
“All right, all right. Sorry. That’s the last time. You’ll see.”
“Good. Good girl.” He lifted her chin and kissed her, meaning it to be a sort of handshake. But the kiss got away from him. For a moment she resisted, fingers pressed against his chest. But then she made a sound in her throat and turned her body toward him.
The train leaned around a curve and hurtled them into the night.
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Text Copyright © 1962 by Robert Colby
Cover Art, Design, and Layout Copyright © 2012 Simon and Schuster
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Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
eISBN 10: 1-4405-3924-3
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-3924-4
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