by Joan Hohl
Micki gazed back at him, trying, but failing, to keep the hurt from her eyes.
“And you think,” she asked softly, “your gift of this weekend, being an intangible gift, has no value?”
“Honey, I didn’t—” Wolf began.
“You’re right.” His eyes widened slightly at the firm words that cut across his protest. Blinking against the hot moisture that clouded her eyes, Micki placed the tip of her finger over his mouth, silencing whatever he was about to say. “There can be no price tag attached to the gift you’ve given me, simply because, to me, this weekend has been priceless.” Despite her efforts, two tears escaped, rolled slowly down her face. “I never dreamed this kind of happiness, this perfect contentment, was possible to achieve.”
Her voice faltered and she lowered her eyes. Hesitant but determined, she went on softly, “This is the gift you’ve given me, Wolf, and that’s why I was crying.”
A stunned silence followed her small speech and Micki began to tremble, certain she’d shattered the harmony they’d shared till now.
“Good God, can this woman be real?” Wolf’s hushed tone held a hint of genuine awe. Glancing up at him, Micki saw he was no longer looking at her, but was staring at the night-blackened porthole. As if unaware of her, he went on, in the same hushed tone. “She offers me her innocence, her youth, her trust, then absolves me with her tears for my greedy use of them.”
In the shadowy light Micki thought she saw his eyelashes flutter suspiciously, then all thought stopped as she was hauled, almost roughly, into his arms.
“You can have no idea what your words mean to me,” Wolf whispered raggedly, “because I have no idea where to begin to express my feelings. But what I said was true. I am greedy and I don’t want to waste one minute of our time together.”
They left the boat in a once-again mist-shrouded predawn. Like the morning before, Micki woke to find Wolf getting dressed.
“Wolf?” The one softly murmured word held both a question and a plea for him to come back to bed.
“I was just going to wake you.” Wolf’s eyes devoured her. “It’s time to go, baby.”
“But, I don’t—” Micki’s protest died as his features settled into lines of hard determination. Trying a different tactic, she asked innocently, “Aren’t you going to kiss me good morning?”
Although a smile curved his lips, he shook his head emphatically. “No way, honey. If I come over there, it’ll be noon before we get off this tub. I want to get you home while there’s at least a chance no one will see you. If anyone even suspects we’ve spent the weekend together, your reputation will be shot to hell.”
“I don’t care about that—” Micki began earnestly.
“I care.” Wolf’s tone was suddenly harsh. “And you should too.” The fingers of his right hand raked through his hair and rubbed absently at the back of his neck. Wolf sighed and went on less harshly. “I’m eleven years older than you. Can you imagine your father’s reaction if he found out about this?”
Micki could, only too well. The thought alone sent a shudder rippling through her slender frame. She groaned softly.
“Exactly,” Wolf said flatly. “At any other time I wouldn’t give one goddamn what your father, or anyone else for that matter, thought about me. But right now I can’t afford that unconcern. So don’t argue, babe. I’m going to go make some coffee. By the time it’s ready I want to see you in the galley fully”—his eyes shifted to her discarded bikini and his tone went dry— “dressed.”
They stepped off the boat into a pearl-white cloud. Halfway along the narrow pier Micki paused to look back at the apparition-like outline of the craft, bobbing gently in the ruffling bay waters. When she turned back to Wolf, her face was wistful, her eyes sad. One strong arm encircled her waist, drew her close. Bending over her, he murmured, “We’ll come back, honey.”
Micki’s eyes lit up. “When? Can we come back tonight’“ The light dimmed as he slowly shook his head and she walked beside him to the car park.
“Although I’m crazy about the way you look in a bikini, I want you to get all dressed up to go out for dinner tonight.”
“Can’t we have dinner on the boat?” The light was back and for a moment he didn’t answer, seemingly bemused by the sparkling blue of her eyes.
“You’d rather have dinner on the boat than go out somewhere?” Wolf laughed.
“Yes,” Micki answered gently. “Can we? Please?”
“You’re absolutely something else.” Wolf’s tone shivered over her skin like a caress. He stopped walking and turned to her, his arm tautening as he crushed her to him. In complete opposition to his crushing hold, his kiss was a tender blessing that robbed her lungs of air, her legs of strength.
“All right, we’ll have dinner on the boat.” He started moving again, his arm possessive around her waist. “But I still want you to get dressed up. I’ll come for you about eight. I have an appointment in Cape May this afternoon.” He stopped beside a late-model Cadillac, unlocked the door, and held it open for her. Seated in the car, Micki watched him, loving the long, lean look of him, as he strode around the front of the car and slid into the seat beside her. Frowning, he turned to her. “If I can shorten the meeting, which I doubt, I’ll call you. But I can’t make any promises.”
His tone held such finality Micki didn’t have the courage to argue.
When he pulled up in front of her home, Wolf reached across her body to open her door, gave her a quick, hard kiss, and growled, “Get out of here, babe. I’ve got to get home and grab some rest or I’ll be useless at the meeting this afternoon.” The soulful eyes Micki lifted to his turned the growl into a groan. “Oh, God, baby, will you get out of the car?” His hands came up to cradle her face, his mouth was a hungrily searing brand. Then he moved back behind the wheel with an ordered, “Go.”
Micki went, on the run, not stopping until she was inside her own bedroom. After stripping off the very wilted beachwear, she dove, stark naked, between the sheets.
Laughing and crying at the same time, she hugged herself fiercely. Oh, Lord, she was so crazily, wildly in love with that man, it was almost scary.
She woke late in the afternoon, automatically reaching for the solid bulk of Wolf s body. When her hand found nothing but emptiness, she opened her eyes and sighed on finding herself in her own bed. Stifling a yawn, she stretched contentedly. The sensuous movement of her body between the smooth sheets evoked the sensuous thoughts of Wolf’s expertly arousing hands and she gasped softly at the sudden, sharp ache that invaded the lower part of her body, the small hard points that thrust against the sheet covering her breasts. God, she was well and truly caught, she thought fearfully, if the mere thought of him could have this kind of effect.
Rolling her head on the pillow, she stared at the fake-gem-encrusted tiny alarm clock on her small nightstand. Two fifty-eight. Micki groaned aloud. Five hours until she’d see him. Kicking off the sheet, she jumped out of bed. She had to do something to fill those hours. Pulling on a light cotton robe, she left the room and went to the kitchen.
Forty-five minutes later, Micki stood at the sink, a small smile curving her lips, washing the dishes. She hadn’t realized she was so hungry! It had required a large glass of orange juice, two poached eggs, three slices of toast, and three cups of coffee to appease her suddenly ravenous appetite.
Leaving the kitchen spotless, she went back to her room, made her bed, then headed for the bathroom for a shampoo and a shower. Humming softly as she stood under the warm shower spray, Micki didn’t hear her father and Regina enter the house. She was standing before the medicine cabinet mirror, blow drying her hair, when her father tapped on the door and called, “Hi, honey, will you be very long? I’d like a shower.”
Shutting the dryer off, Micki disconnected the plug and opened the door. “Hi, Dad,” she said as she leaned toward him and kissed his whisker-rough cheek. “Welcome home, have a good trip?”
“Gruesome,” Bruce grimaced. “You know
what New York is like in August. Why the hell these realtors had to have their conference there is beyond me.” He sighed wearily. “I was tied up in meetings most of the time, which didn’t do a thing for Regina’s patience. She should have listened to me and stayed at home.”
Fleetingly, and for the first time since her father’s marriage, Micki thanked the powers-that-be for Regina’s stubbornness. “Well, you’re home now and the bathroom’s all yours. You can have your shower. And, Dad”—one slim hand caressed his cheek—”have a shave too.”
“Brat.” A larger hand made contact with her bottom. Smiling happily, Micki went to her room. She was plugging the blow dryer into the wall socket by her dressing table when the phone rang. Wolf! The dryer dropped onto the table’s mirror-bright surface with a clatter as Micki ran across the room. Flinging the door wide, she dashed along the hall and started down the stairs.
“Hello.”
Micki was halfway down the stairs when she heard Regina answer the phone. She took one more step down then froze, her hand gripping the railing at Regina’s velvety, incredibly sexy-sounding words.
“Wolf, darling, couldn’t you wait? We haven’t been in the house a half hour. I know how impatient you are and I was about to call you.”
Eyes widening in disbelief, Micki waited breathlessly through the small silence while Regina listened to whatever Wolf was saying. When she spoke again, her words sent a shaft of pure hatred through Micki.
“The trip was exactly as you warned me it would be—dreadful. I could have kicked myself for not staying here to go with you as you wanted me to.” There was another short pause, then, “Bruce? No, he’s having a shower, how could he know? I told you we just got in. Yes, of course, darling, I want that as badly as you do.”
Feeling she couldn’t bear to hear any more, Micki, moving like a zombie, started back up the stairs. The sound of her name stopped her.
“Micki? No, she’s not here. But then, she rarely ever is.” Regina paused to listen again, then replied with a sigh, “I don’t know, possibly with Tony Menella, she’s been seeing a lot of him lately. She does not confide in me, but I’m sure she doesn’t know.”
Ordering her numbed body to move, Micki retraced her steps to her bedroom. Standing in the middle of the room, she stared sightlessly at the wall. Wolf and Regina? The words became a tortured scream in her mind.
Wolf and Regina? Oh, dear God, could Regina be one of the women who had cried on receiving a gift, usually expensive, from Wolf? Shaking all over, Micki blinked her eyes and when she did, her gaze touched the bed. Hot color flared into her cheeks on the thought that Wolf had robbed her father like an outlaw. First his wife, now his daughter.
Choking back the bitter gall that rose in her throat, Micki silently berated herself. You fool, you young, stupid, virginal fool. Correction, she thought, fighting against a growing hysteria, ex-virginal fool.
“Micki?”
The sound of Regina’s soft voice, followed by a gentle tap on her door, turned the budding hysteria into cold fury. Before she could answer, the door was opened and Regina entered the room, closing the door behind her.
“I thought you were out. Have you been in your room all this—”
“What do you want?” The voice that slashed across Regina’s words held cold contempt and a new maturity.
“Micki.” Regina hesitated, then asked bluntly, “Were you out with Wolf Renninger while your father and I were away?”
“That’s none of your business.” Striding across the room, Micki brushed by Regina on her way to the door. At the contact, her robe parted at her throat, revealing the abrasions David’s plundering mouth had left on her skin.
“Did Wolf do that?” Regina gasped, pointing at the dull red mark.
“That’s also none of your business,” Micki snapped, one hand covering the spot. “I want you to leave my room.” Her other hand grasped the doorknob to yank the door open but released it again at Regina’s sharp words.
“You are a fool.”
Spinning to face her, Micki looked her straight in the eye and spat, “Aren’t we all?”
“Micki, you don’t know this man.” Regina’s tone held an oddly pleading note. “Believe me, he lives up to his name. The women buzz around him like bees at a honey pot. I must make this my business if you’re to be kept from being hurt.”
“I can take care of myself.” Micki actually had to fight the urge to laugh in Regina’s face. Hurt? Regina didn’t know the meaning of the word.
“With a man like Wolf?” Regina asked, at once answering her own question. “I hardly think so. He told me he was picking you up at eight.” At Micki’s nod a strange, almost crafty look entered her eyes. Very softly she said, “Don’t be surprised if he’s—well—somewhat tired. Or were you aware of the fact that he’s spent the afternoon with a woman in Cape May? He was calling from her home actually.”
Micki didn’t want to believe her, but how could Regina know he was in Cape May unless he’d told her? Sickness churning in her stomach, Micki fought to maintain a cool facade. Wanting to get Regina out of the room before she humiliated herself by throwing up in front of her, Micki waved her hand airily, forced herself to laugh lightly.
“I had no intention of going out with him,” she lied. “I told him I would to get rid of him.” Drawing a deep breath, she rushed on. “Do me a favor, Regina. When Wolf comes, tell him I’m out,” she paused before adding, “with Tony.”
* * *
Chapter 5
A chill rippled through Micki’s body, partly from the dampness, partly from her thoughts. Tugging the edges of her sweater together, she stood up and went into the house. After locking the doors and hanging the sweater in the closet, she went up the stairs slowly, her face blank of expression, her eyes dull.
Six years! For six long years she’d suppressed all thoughts of him. And now, after being home only one day, he filled her mind to the exclusion of everything else. Why? Why had he been on the street at the exact time she stopped for that car? If she hadn’t seen him, spoken to him. But she had seen him, had spoken to him. More stupid still, she had snapped at his tauntingly tossed bait.
Closing her bedroom door quietly, she walked across the darkened room, sank wearily into the fanned-back peacock chair, clasped her hands tightly in her lap. She was trembling all over and she felt sick to her stomach, as sick as she’d felt that night.
She had not gone with him that night, had not seen him. But she had heard him. From her bedroom doorway, she’d heard her father, innocently, for he really thought what he said was the truth. Tell Wolf that she’d gone out with Tony Menella. And she’d heard Wolf reply, “But we had a date for dinner,” his voice rough with anger and confusion.
A shudder shook Micki’s slender body. Closing her eyes, she rested her head back against the smooth wicker. He had called every day during that following week, and each time either Regina or her father told him the same thing. She was with Tony. She hadn’t been, of course. She’d been hiding in her bedroom like a fugitive. And like a fugitive on the run, she stole away the next week without seeing him or talking to him again. Her father never knew the real reason she insisted on going back to school early.
But running away had not ended it. Oh, he had not tried to see her at school or contact her in any way, but he was with her in more ways than one. Although remembering the hurt caused actual pain, she had been unable to stop thinking about him. The feel of him, the scent of him, the taste of him, was in her blood and no amount of self-determination had succeeded in repelling him. And then, four weeks after she’d returned to school, she knew the life of him was inside her too.
Strangely, the realization that his child was growing inside her body banished the pain, replaced the hurt with deep contentment. She’d decided that even if she could not have the man, she could, and would, cherish his seed. There would be problems, not the least of which was her father, but thoughts of the baby had eased the ache in her heart and she grew daily
more determined to have it.
Her euphoria had lasted two weeks. A euphoria only slightly dampened by her sudden aversion to eggs in the morning. Then horrible cramping pain in the middle of one night and a sticky, wet, red-stained sheet had burst her bubble of happiness. When she wakened in a hospital near the campus, one look at the faces of the doctor and nurse who were beside her bed told the story. She was one again, her body had repelled Wolfs issue. It was while she lay in that sterile room alone, once again hurting unbearably, that her mind repelled Wolfs image.
No one except the hospital personnel knew of the miscarriage and three weeks after her twentieth birthday she left school. Luckily she had found a job and a room within a week of her arrival in Wilmington. She had not gone back until her father’s illness two years ago. At that time she had not seen Wolf, nor had his name been mentioned. She had assumed he was no longer there, had moved on to greener pastures.
Over the years she had dated at least a dozen different men. And, in fact, was seeing one man exclusively before she came home. His name was Darrel and he’d asked her to marry him. She had been completely honest with him, without mentioning a name or circumstances. He knew he would not be the first, yet he’d asked her to marry him. Darrel was handsome, and Darrel was rich, and Darrel was successful. The perfect answer to any young woman’s romantic dreams. But Micki was not any young woman. She had left him in Wilmington, two nights before, with her promise to think about his proposal.
Micki moved her head restlessly back and forth against the wicker, not even attempting to wipe away the tears that ran freely down her face. She knew what her answer to Darrel would be. She liked him, she respected him, but she did not love him. She loved Wolf. It was crazy. It was stupid. It was also an irrevocable fact. Nothing that had happened over the last six years had changed that. Within two nights and one day he had wrapped himself immovably around her heart. She had suspected even then that she would always love him. Now there was no doubt in her mind at all, and she could not go to Darrel loving Wolf.