LoveMakers

by Gould, Judith

  Elizabeth-Anne had looked at her in surprise. 'Whoever said I wanted him to?'

  Charlotte-Anne looked at her curiously. 'It's plain to see, Mamma. Whenever he's around you flush and your whole face lights up. When you know you're going to see him, you sing to yourself all day. It's not that I mind your seeing him. I like him. But Daddy's still out there, somewhere, I know he is. I don't think you should share yourself with anyone, at least not until we know for sure what's happened to Daddy.'

  'Darling, I'm not sharing anything with Larry. Like you said, he's a very nice man, clever and attractive. But you needn't worry.' She smiled faintly. 'I'd never do anything which might compromise the way I feel toward your father.'

  'Yes, Mamma.'

  The evening after that, Larry took her to the theater, and then he and Elizabeth-Anne ate a late supper at the town- house. The meal was light, the champagne was heady, and they both wanted to make love. For a long moment Elizabeth-Anne felt horribly torn. Then she'd pushed herself away from him and said huskily, 'No, Larry. It's not right. Not yet, at least. Not while Zaccheus is still alive somewhere.'

  He had acquiesced, and she'd left soon after. The tension between them became unbearable. They didn't see each other again until their next bi-weekly lunch. At first they had both felt the strain, but then he'd asked her out again, and things had returned to normal. They never discussed their physical intimacy again. They never so much as kissed one another. Yet somehow their love for each other kept growing steadily, fueled, perhaps, by their frustrated physical desires.

  She stared across the table at him now. He was gazing back at her in his usual quiet manner.

  For a moment she felt very bad. She loved him, of that she was certain. And he loved her. Since he couldn't show her physically how he felt about her, he showed it to her in the next best way he knew how, obviously going out of his way tending to her investments. And all for what . . . she asked herself. Not even a kiss?

  Here she was, an adult in New York City, a woman of substantial means, with the rare opportunity to love a second time, and she was afraid to make love to the man she . . . loved? Desired?

  No, she wasn't afraid, she corrected herself. Nor was it simply lust. She felt guilty about loving another man, that was all. Guilty because somewhere inside her she still loved Zaccheus, still loved all that he represented, even if she could no longer visualize him clearly. And guilty because she loved the children she had had with Zaccheus, the tangible, living product of the love they had shared. Whenever she felt doubts, she had only to look at the children.

  But Zaccheus was gone, she reminded herself, and she couldn't let the children rule her life. It wasn't fair. Not to Larry and not to herself.

  She took a deep breath and her voice trembled. 'Larry . . . ' she said softly. 'Tonight . . .' She gazed across the table into that fathomless, single, midnight-blue eye of his, and it was like being sucked into an ever deepening vortex. 'Tonight . . . let's see each other tonight? I've waited so long. I don't know if. . . '

  He regarded her sadly. He loved and respected her too much to force himself upon her. 'Are you sure?' he asked softly. 'Absolutely sure?'

  She nodded. 'I'm sure.'

  There was a sudden knock on the door, then a middle-aged, severely dressed woman stuck her head into the room. 'Mr. Hochstetter,' she said apologetically, 'there's a call from a Mr. Wharton. He says it's extremely urgent. I can transfer the call in here.'

  'Please.' He pushed back his chair, smiled at Elizabeth- Anne, and crossed the room. He picked up the extension phone and listened for a while. After speaking briefly, he slowly put the phone down, his lips puckered thoughtfully. Then he hurried back to the table, seized Elizabeth-Anne's financial report, and punched the intercom button.

  'Miss Gordon, bring me the file of my own investments. Quick.'

  'What's happened?' Elizabeth-Anne asked. 'Is something wrong?'

  'Wrong? No, not at all. Someone's feeding us a red herring, and I can smell it. It stinks. That was my contact at Horseshoe Investments. The stock's starting to drop like crazy.'

  'But. . . why?' She stared at him. 'I thought they just hit a new vein.'

  'Which petered out.' He smiled grimly. 'So they say.'

  'So we're going to sell?' she guessed.

  'Yes and no. We're going to sell everything except Horseshoe, which we're going to buy up.' He compressed his lips and nodded to himself, thinking aloud. 'Something's up. Old Man Carruthers would never leak the word if a vein petered out, not unless he sold his shares quietly first. No, he's buying up even more stock. They must have struck the mother lode. My guess is Carruthers is trying to bring the stock prices down and then buy it all up cheap.'

  'And we're buying, too?'

  'We're going to try like hell to buy up every share before he gets his greedy little paws on them. We're liquidating everything in order to raise cash.'

  'And . . . ' Elizabeth-Anne's voice trembled. 'And if you're wrong?'

  'Then, my dear Elizabeth-Anne,' he said lightly, 'we're up what's proverbially known as Shit's Creek.' He grinned then, his face flushed with excitement. She had never seen him like this. Now she understood the panther-like image he brought to mind.

  'Now off you go,' he instructed her. 'I'll see you tonight. Meanwhile, I've got a lot of trading to do. For you and for me. By five o'clock, I want us both to own the majority interest in Horseshoe Investments.'

  At six o'clock that evening Larry called Elizabeth-Anne at home. She snatched up the phone.

  'Fait accompli,' he said. 'Congratulations, Mrs. Hale. We are now both for better or for worse, the majority stockholders in Horseshoe Investments.'

  'Should I be pleased, or is it too early to tell?' she asked cautiously.

  'It's still a little early, but certain rumors I've heard sound good. Carruthers was waiting for the stock to go down to four dollars a share from eight fifty. I beat him to it. I snatched up all the shares for four fifty. I hear he's livid. Especially since he started the run with his own shares, and was waiting for everyone else to dump theirs.'

  'So he's out of the picture completely?'

  'No, he's got a few shares left. Not many, just enough to become an irritant.'

  'So it looks good.' It was a statement, not a question.

  'I dare say it looks very good.'

  'And if - ' She stopped herself just in time.

  She heard his laughter echoing across the wire. 'And if I turn out to be right, how much are you worth? That's what you wanted to know, isn't it?'

  'Well, I mean, I couldn't help wondering, but. . . '

  'If, and I repeat if, I am right, then you can count your blessings. You'll be worth - '

  She held her breath.

  Abruptly he changed the subject. 'Get dressed up real nice and pretty. We're going to celebrate tonight.'

  She tightened her grip on the telephone. 'Larry! That isn't fair. You started to say it, now out with it.'

  'No, it's not fair,' he chuckled.

  'That's better. Now tell me.'

  'All right. Just remember that it's a gamble. We won't really know for sure for a week or so.'

  'I . . . I'll keep that in mind,' she promised in a shaky voice.

  'Well, as of an hour ago, you could be worth over a million.'

  She sucked in her breath and stared at the telephone. 'A . . . million,' she gasped.

  'Or more. Or nothing.'

  'I think,' she said slowly, dazed by the prospect of losing or winning those kind of stakes, 'I think I feel like I'm going to faint.'

  'No you're not, darling. You're going to get all gussied up. Just for me.'

  'Yes, Larry.'

  As she hung up, she sighed softly to herself, her eyes sparkling. The prospect of being a millionairess no longer seemed important.

  He had called her darling.

  Pulled by a single white horse, the landau rolled slowly past the dark, whispering trees of Central Park. The hack in his top hat was perched on the raise
d driver's seat, and Larry and Elizabeth-Anne sat in the back, just forward of the furled black canvas canopy. All around, Manhattan had decked itself out in its most glittering, beguiling jewelry. The city surrounded them, a three-sided jewel box sparkling with a million lights. Overhead, the sky was a sea of dark velvet, the perfect backdrop for the thousands of diamond stars. They seemed so close that Elizabeth-Anne felt she could reach up and pluck a handful.

  She snuggled further beneath the coarse lap blanket. 'Would you believe I haven't been in a buggy since I left Texas? There we longed for cars. And here it's the reverse. It's a treat to ride in a buggy.' She laughed softly.

  He turned to her, his arm draped around her shoulders.

  Her face became serious. 'Thank you, Larry,' she said softly.

  'Why? What did I do?'

  'For understanding how difficult this is for me to . . .well, to do what we're going to do.' She laughed nervously.

  He placed a hand on her chin and turned her to face him. 'Say it,' he said softly. 'There's nothing to be ashamed of. Love is beautiful. Put it into words.'

  She took a deep breath. 'To make love, then.' She smiled timidly. 'Was that better?'

  'Much.' He hugged her close, and she could feel the warm strength of his arm, smell the faint pleasant manliness of him. She leaned her head back on his shoulder as she gazed up in wonder at the night sky. 'What I really meant was, thank you for making it so easy for me. So romantic. First the candlelight dinner. Now the ride.'

  He tightened his grip and leaned down to kiss her. For a long moment he looked deeply into her moonlit eyes. The aquamarine pupils were dilated in anticipation, a deeper, richer, more fathomless shade of clear blue than he had ever seen them. 'My God, but you're beautiful,' he marveled in a whisper, his lips brushing against hers, his breath warm and full of longing.

  A surge of expectation rippled through her, bolts of electricity dancing from her head to her toes. He lowered his face and covered her mouth with his so that their lips were united, and their tongues tasted of each other's softness and warmth. She shut her eyes and reached up, pulling him down even closer. If anything could last forever, she prayed silently, let this be it.

  'I think,' he suggested quietly, whispering against the soft skin of her cheek, 'it's time we headed home.'

  She opened her eyes then, and gazed up at him with such trusting tenderness that it was the only answer he needed.

  His bedroom was on the second floor of the house, and the drapes were pulled tightly across the windows. The room was a haven, a serene, private world of its own. As was the case downstairs, the wails had been painted by a master artist from Italy, and the muted trompe l'oeil architectural features - paneling, pilasters, and ceiling moldings - seemed real enough to touch. The bed was huge, replete with a rich, green silk canopy and a headboard trimmed in elaborate gold appliqué which completed the heightened, sensuous feeling of grand luxe.

  But Elizabeth-Anne was oblivious to her surroundings as Larry held her close.

  'You have beautiful hair, my darling,' he whispered softly, unpinning the braided coils at her ears. The freed hair fell loosely and he stroked it almost reverentially, letting it flow between his fingers like soft molten gold. 'Beautiful,' he murmured over and over.

  She shook her head, loosening her hair completely. Then she felt him fingering the miniscule buttons at the back of her dress. 'You have perfect shoulders, too,' he whispered as he pulled the dress down around her breasts and planted a light kiss on each shoulder blade. 'You don't know how I've dreamed of touching you like this.'

  Then he kissed her deeply on the lips, and she felt lightheaded and lost. He moved behind her, suddenly as naked as she was, his powerful legs pushing against hers, his stiff, erect penis brushing the small of her back. He kissed the nape of her neck reverently, then turned her so he could cup her breasts in his hands, ever so gently kneading them while he kissed her deeply, as if trying to discover the well- spring of her femininity. She moaned, letting her head fall backwards, her hair cascading free all around her, marveling in the exquisite sensations he brought her. 'Love me,' she murmured. 'Love me now, Larry, now.'

  He showered little kisses on her ears, mere whispers of breath, then drove her to mad, excruciating ecstasy with the faintest, circular whorls of his tongue. His lips moved downward, brushing against her breasts, flicking against her hard nipples, tempting her, teasing her, giving her but the faintest taste of what was to come. His tongue caressed her navel and then traced its way across the tautly stretched, sleek flesh of her abdomen. When at last he licked, tentatively, at her firm, blonde mound, she moaned aloud and gripped him fiercely by his muscular shoulders as she exploded, lost again and again in waves of shuddering pleasure. She felt so extravagantly exquisite, so sublimely rewarded, so clearly driven out of her mind that she wasn't altogether certain the world wasn't coming to an end.

  Without warning he scooped her effortlessly into the air, one hand under her spine, the other supporting her bent knees, and carried her, like a sacrificial offering, to his huge, canopied bed.

  And then he lowered her gently into that sea of green and gold, so very gently that at first she wasn't even aware of his putting her down. For a moment he could only stare at her lying there, her golden hair fanning out in all directions.

  When he climbed carefully on top of her, she was transfixed by the sight of his well-proportioned body, each contour heightened in definition by the shadows cast by the dim lamps. He knelt silently over her, his head bowed. She felt his moist thumbs stroking her nipples, and she arched her back in an instinctual feline motion, her sinuously curved torso lifting clear off the bed, her long white throat exposed, her lips half open, the rows of teeth perfect and smooth. Flesh touched flesh, and his tongue wrought a trail of sweet anguish from her navel up to the cleft of her bosom, around her ear and neck. He burrowed, moaning, into the smooth pit of her arm, and then moved his lips again to her mound, cleverly playing among the spirals of her hair. She clutched him urgently, but he forced her arms to her sides. 'Later,' he whispered. 'Just lie still now.'

  She nodded and swallowed. It was a torturous game. After a few minutes she could no longer stand it, and she grasped him fiercely, her mouth emitting gasps and eloquent little screams of pleasure. He fell forward in a lunge, grabbed her up, and kissed her deeply. She could feel his penis growing ever more erect, and for a moment she panicked, suddenly fearful of completing the act.

  He seemed to sense her hesitation and pressed himself to her, entering her in one sure, powerful stroke. She closed her eyes, raising her pelvis instinctively to meet him as the pure, warm thought filled her mind: Yes, this is right. This is perfect.

  They lay utterly still for a long time, savoring the fullness of the moment they had waited so long for. And then he thrust again slowly, a long, sure caress that he repeated again and again until each stroke seemed to pull out of her a deeper well of ecstasy and he was plunging into her over and over with raw passion. She cried out, gripping him tightly with her thighs and arms, clinging to every surging, bucking movement he made and then suddenly he moaned deeply and was filling her and she felt her own body tremble and explode. He shuddered and collapsed, burying his face in the soft, ambrosial comfort of her breasts. His breath was coming in gasps, each lungful of air he exhaled a cool whisper against her burning flesh. She couldn't speak for a long time, and they lay still, not needing more than each other's bodies.

  Finally he asked, 'Can you stay the night?' His voice was muffled.

  'I wish I could.' She traced her finger along the ridge of his backbone. 'But I can't. You know that. The girls . . . I am supposed to be a role model for them, and a good mother doesn't stay out all night.'

  He laughed, then shifted around to face her, his head leaning on his elbow. 'In that case,' he said soberly, 'it's time for round two.'

  •She gazed at his phallus. Remarkably, it was erect again. She grinned. 'Insatiable bastard.'

  When she got home
it was already past two o'clock in the morning. She slipped quietly up the stairs and managed to let herself in without making a sound. She locked the front door, then tiptoed into the living room. There, she stopped in her tracks. The girls were seated on the chaise, wide awake but avoiding her gaze. Their faces were red. Clearly they had been crying.

  A dark shadow of shame and self-revulsion swept through Elizabeth-Anne. She was overcome with guilt as she stared slowly from one to the other. Then she dropped her gaze. The pain of seeing them so hurt tugged excruciatingly at her heart.

  So they have somehow guessed what I've been up to, she thought. They know that I've cheated on my husband, on their father. I should have known better. I should have, but the temptation was too strong. I've failed them as a mother.

  God forgive me, she prayed silently. 'Girls .. .' she whispered hoarsely. Charlotte-Anne and Regina pushed their sister to her feet. As always, it was Rebecca who was made to speak up for the others.

  With trembling hands, Rebecca held out two sheets of paper. It was a letter. 'I-I think you'd better sit down, Mamma,' she said, handing it to her and bursting into tears.

  Elizabeth-Anne stared down at the two sheets of paper, at her husband's small, familiar script. She couldn't believe that suddenly, after so long with no word, she now held a letter in her hand. And tonight of all nights . . . But, then, before her guilt could blossom further, she began to read - and the pain of the words seared her very heart and soul.

  My dearest wife and beloved children,

  I know this letter coming out of the blue will be a shock. After so long without word, it grieves me more than I can say that this is all I have to send you. Because by the time you receive this, it will all, thank God, be over. It's best this way. You must trust me and believe that with all your heart.