Experiment In Love

by Clay Estrada, Rita

  Why did he rent a car? Didn’t he have one of his own? After all, the paper business couldn’t be all that bad. In fact, the clothing he wore was expensive and the meal hadn’t been cheap, either, even if he had chosen an out-of-the-way restaurant in a section of town she wasn’t familiar with. Somehow she didn’t think he had been there before, either. He had paid too much attention to the street names as they drove.

  He gave her a slow, intimate smile before turning the key in the ignition. “Ready?”

  For what? she wondered. “Yes.”

  The dim interior of the car gave the planes of his face a slightly sinister look and she involuntarily shivered.

  “Cold?” Without asking he took her hand in his and placing it on his thigh. His thumb stroked the top of her fingers. Warm, masculine and extremely sensuous. If it had been anyone else, she probably would have pulled her hand back. But she couldn’t. Instead, she just enjoyed it.

  “I bet you miss your motorcycle,” she murmured, attempting to ignore looking at him by glancing out the window at the only starry night they had had in weeks.

  “My what?” His look was incredulous. Victoria stared up at him, clearly puzzled.

  “Your letter said you love motorcycles. I have a moped myself. I use it to save gas when I’m in town and don’t have to travel the freeways.”

  “Is that very often?”

  “What?”

  “That you need to drive the freeways.”

  “No, thank goodness. Gas eats heavily into my budget as it is. I spend at least fifteen dollars a week on gas now.”

  “Is that all?” Once more his glance her way was shock.

  “That’s enough! I don’t know how much you spend, but sixty dollars a month is enough of a financial dent for me!”

  “How frugal.” He smiled a small secret smile before openly grinning at what must have been a private joke. His light squeeze on her hand took her mind off the fact that she had been asking about his own mode of transportation.

  They were parked in front of her apartment house in less than fifteen minutes. Granted, those had been the longest minutes of silence since the evening had begun, but it had been companionable.

  Suddenly she was stiff, not wanting the evening to end, but not knowing what conclusions he’d draw if she offered to extend it. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Her voice sounded high-pitched and strained even to her own ears.

  “I was hoping you’d ask.”

  When they reached the apartment door, Kurt took the key from her hand and slipped it into the lock, then stood back to allow her entrance. A true gentleman.

  Victoria quickly flipped on the overhead lights, and then made a beeline toward the kitchen, plugging in the coffeemaker and going through the almost automatic motions of every morning’s routine. When she was done she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed, his stance lazy. The living-room lights behind him were glowing a dim gold, letting her know he had rearranged the situation to fit his idea of a seduction scene. Somehow she knew he wasn’t as relaxed as he looked.

  “Come here,” he said softly in a burlap-rough voice that played on her nerve endings.

  Slowly she walked toward him, hesitantly, knowing what was going to happen. She suddenly wanted his touch almost as badly as his dark chocolate-brown eyes told her he wanted to hold her.

  His arms enfolded her slim form, bringing his hard firm body in direct contact with hers. His legs were spread wide to block the doorway, forcing her to lean against him to keep her balance. One hand came up and gently slipped off her overlarge glasses.

  “I think we can dispense with these now. You won’t need them.”

  She lifted her eyes, standing passively in his arms, as he leisurely surveyed her face. Then his lips came down and slowly brushed hers, tentatively, hesitantly, until he felt her response. His arms tightened perceptibly, one hand twining in her hair to hold her head while the other captured her waist to tease the small of her back and send warmth through her dazed limbs. A torrent of mixed emotions rushed through her body, sending scrambled responses back to her numbed brain. She had never been so affected by a man before. Never. And it frightened her beyond belief. Always in charge, Vicky hadn’t believed in the possibility of being swept off her feet by any man...until now.

  “You’re so sweet-tasting.” His voice was rough, sensuous, gliding against the nerves in her ears to heighten the taut pitch of her body. His tongue explored the warmth of her mouth and suddenly she was responding, no longer tense and alert, but instead, she felt fluid and feverish.

  His hand slowly glided down to her shoulder, resting lightly and hesitating only a second before slipping further to capture a breast, teasing the nipple to taut attention as she arched invitingly toward his touch.

  Her emotions swirled. Bells rang in her ears and flashes of brilliant light played in front of her eyes. Heat tornadoed inside her belly, creating a want that tore her usual restraints aside.

  She had always made fun of women who swore that fireworks really did happen, especially after reading descriptions in dozens of books. It had never seemed to be a remote possibility . . . until now. She relaxed against him, her body blending perfectly with his. His lips, tongue and hands were telling her he had the same reaction as they melded their bodies together in the doorway. Finally he broke the kiss and she leaned her head against his solid chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt and hearing his erratic heartbeat. Slowly their hearts resumed an almost normal rhythm in cadence with each other.

  He cupped her breast in his hand. “So nice, so sweet and sensitive,” he growled in her ear. “I like that.”

  Victoria raised her head, continuing where he had left off. She nibbled on his full lower lip, spreading kisses along his strong jawline, burrowing her head into his neck. Her legs felt weak, her body strangely boneless. And certainly she had never felt so confidently assertive in her whole life.

  “Why?” she murmured between kisses.

  His eyes turned a dark golden hue as he stared down at her small heart-shaped face. Dimples bloomed in both her cheeks as she pursed her lips to give another feather-light kiss to the comer of his mouth. Her hair had become ruffled and her eyes glittered with passion.

  “I don’t know,” was his only answer, surprising even himself. He had always gone out with more heavily endowed women, whether by chance or choice he wasn’t certain. But he liked this woman just the way she was, slim, lithe, small-boned.

  “Whatever the reason, I’m pleased that you’re pleased, because there’s not a thing I can do about changing.” She chuckled throatily.

  The coffeepot finally finished perking and the silence covered them like a warm blanket. “I love your aftershave. I’ve never smelled that scent before.” She twined her arms around his neck, playing with his hair, slipping a small nail around the curvature of his ear.

  “It’s a special brand.” His finger outlined the curve of her lips and she opened them willingly for him to feel the moistness.

  “I thought only women had scents made up for them.”

  His mouth hovered just above hers, teasing her with his nearness. “Men sometimes do it too.”

  Her lips formed the word oh and it was just the perfect word for him to kiss away.

  The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her lips, exactly where his finger had been; then, with aching slowness, he pierced her mouth, seeking the deeper response she was totally willing to give. The erotic scent of his aftershave mixed with his definitely masculine smell. His slightly moist kiss, his gentle but firm touch, were the most erotic Victoria had ever felt.

  His mouth moved downward, trailing over her chin to her slim neck and then to the small sharp vee of her dress, pulling it aside so he could reach the tender swell of her breasts. His hands were lightly touching all over her body, teasing here, taunting there, a ghost of crowing heat remaining where he had been, a fire stirring where his hands had moved. His soothing mouth and hands w
ere persuading her to do things she had never thought to do before. Suddenly nothing seemed as important as this. All she wanted was him, and for this to go on forever.

  Kurt took her hand, his eyes searching out the small darkened hallway to her room. “Let’s go to your room and finish this,” he murmured huskily, his other hand stroking her neck. “I’m too old to make love in kitchens. We can drink coffee later, when we’re both ready for it.”

  The mist slowly dissolved for Victoria. She clearly saw the scene as someone else would see it and it looked shabby. How could she explain that this wasn’t her regular routine? That she normally didn’t advertise in singles papers and then go to bed with every guy who answered her ad? She couldn’t. “I’m afraid not, Kurt.”

  He looked at her, eyebrows raised in derision. “Are we playing cat and mouse games? I thought you were an up-front person, one who expected others to say what they want, and not what’s dictated by society.”

  “I am an up-front person, but that doesn’t mean I slip in and out of bed with total strangers.” Her brown eyes flashed in defense, ignoring the underlying sense of disappointment she felt. Why should she have thought he was any different from the rest of the men she knew? But she had.

  “I wasn’t accusing you of that, Vicky. I was accusing you of games.” His hands stroked her arms lightly, his warm brown eyes playing across the features of her face before taking in the slim but well-shaped figure hidden beneath her dowdy clothing.

  “I’m not playing games. What you see is what you get.” She stood firm.

  One masculine brow rose. “Your outlandish costume says you are.” His arms dropped to his sides, a distant and cool look in his eyes. “I don’t get it. You advertise in a singles newspaper that you’re looking for the right guy, knowing you’d be asked to come across sometime.”

  “And also knowing I wouldn’t.” She took a deep breath, reaching for an explanation. “Asking and doing are two different things. I just wanted to meet guys, I wasn’t looking for a bed partner. I don’t know you well enough to, to...” Her voice faded off as she realized just how juvenile that sounded in a cosmopolitan city like Los Angeles where people met and went to bed in the space of an hour, let alone waiting five!

  “You want me. You respond to me. We both know that.”

  “That doesn’t mean I’ll go to bed with you. It means that my body is willing, but my spirit won’t let me.”

  He stiffened, his face rock-hard and implacable. “I see. You’re a thrill seeker who advertises, but doesn’t follow through.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “Or is it just my honor that you won’t besmirch? Am I the odd man out because you respond too well to my touch and it frightens you?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then why advertise?”

  It was time to turn the tables. Two could get just as angry as one. “Why did you advertise? You could get a hundred dates with your looks, and yet here you are, dating me.”

  He looked away, his eyes gliding toward the bright cheery posters on the wall. “It was just an experiment.”

  “Experiment? Well, that’s what it was for me, too.” She turned away from him, walking toward the front door and holding it open to allow him to exit. “But the experiment is over and it’s time for you to go home.”

  “Dammit, Victoria! Shut that door and give me an explanation of what’s going on!” He ran an agitated hand through his hair, staring at her in baffled anger.

  “Please go. Now.” Her hand shook as she turned the knob, but she wouldn’t let him see how upset she was.

  He strode toward the outer hall, hesitating only when he reached her side. “This serves me right.” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear.

  His steps echoed down the passageway and toward the elevator. Victoria listened quietly, afraid to move until she was sure he was gone. When the grinding of the old, rickety cables announced his departure, she gave a sigh. So much for date number three, she told herself. And now it was time to wipe him out of her mind. She refused to accept the fact that he had made her feel like no other man ever had. This wasn’t the time for introspection — this was research. Something told her to stay away from him; he was too volatile a mixture for her chemistry. She determinedly forced him out of her mind. Bending down, she slipped off her shoes. For looking so comfortable they sure caused blisters! Then she whistled her way to the bathroom. A warm bath with a good book and a glass of wine would do wonders for her.

  Why were all the good-looking, dynamic men either taken or taken up with their own prowess? She wouldn’t admit, even to herself, that she had gone merrily along with his game plan without resistance right up to the last minute.

  Victoria quickly shed the ugly blue dress and allowed her hair complete freedom while the bathwater ran. She glanced in the now steamy bathroom mirror, surveying her body as a man would see it. Her waist was slim, her hips only slightly fuller, her breasts were a nice average size, but certainly not voluptuous. Did he expect every woman to fall into his lap, so to speak? Or was she so ugly and eager already that he had decided she wasn’t worth an all-out effort? Somehow that hurt more than any other thought.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Victoria woke up the following morning with a heavy pressure in her head. Had she slept more than a wink all night? She had faithfully promised herself that she would block any thought about Kurt Wentworth, yet there were so many pieces to the puzzle of the man that she couldn’t put together.

  His letter said he loved motorcycles, yet he had seemed totally surprised when she’d mentioned the subject. He had rented a car, but if it was to impress her, why rent a two-year-old Ford? He spent money for excellent food, but he went to a completely out-of-the-way restaurant. His clothing was expensive, but bought off the rack, while his aftershave was blended especially for him. He acted like the typical California swinging single, but his conversation was concise and to the point, with none of the slang Victoria was used to hearing from the average male. His thoughts were accurate; he was well read and up to date on all the current news, domestic and foreign. Most of all, he was handsome as the devil, dripped with sex appeal, knew how to make love expertly and beautifully — but he advertised in a dating newspaper.

  None of it made sense.

  If he wasn’t what he claimed to be, then what was he?

  Her mind whirled with possibilities but she discarded them all as she tried to dissect the man. Nothing gave her an answer that she could accept.

  Finally she got dressed. Grabbing her notes on hotels that laid claim to having ghosts, she began the newest article assigned to her. If she did nothing else today she’d get through a first draft. Her checkbook told her she needed this money more than she needed to figure out Kurt Wentworth. After all, she had failed miserably as an interviewer last night, telling him more of her own opinions and asking fewer questions than she had ever done before in her life.

  What had gotten into her that she had let the evening slip by without getting the facts she needed for her article? Irritation raised its ugly head, but she wasn’t sure if she was exasperated with him or with herself!

  She resolutely aimed her thoughts and energy toward the computer so she could make sense of the notes at hand.

  ***

  Kurt was at work early the next morning and for the first time in his life was in no hurry to tackle his enormous load of paperwork. As he strode through the wide glass doors and into the lobby of the Newstime building, he unconsciously searched the crowd for a long-haired, big-eyed, slim but dowdily dressed young woman. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he found himself leaning against the far wall, watching the door expectantly.

  He shook the placid expression from his face, more for his own benefit than anyone else’s, and walked with a determined gait toward the closest elevator. Some of the women gave him a sultry eye, while others smiled invitingly. None of them seemed to have sense enough not to make themselves blatantly obvious.

&nbs
p; He forced his mind to turn to today’s business commitments. A guilty conscience made him promise himself that he would give Julie a treat tonight, perhaps take her to that disco she’d been raving about. She was young and a starlet, and wanted to be seen by the right crowd. It wasn’t Kurt’s idea of a good time, but perhaps it would take his mind off…other things.

  Much later that night he stared out at the bobbing boats in the harbor, their small twinkling lights forming a hazy pattern on the softly rolling waves. He glanced into his watery scotch and wondered why he even bothered to see Julie anymore, let alone pay the exorbitant bills she considered it necessary to incur. Her dress tonight, a deep green strapless jersey that clung like glue to show off her curves, was worthy of the body it encased, but the effect it had on him was nil. Her long red nails had clung tenaciously to his arm all night. Her hands could have been wrapped around his throat he felt so suffocated by her nearness. He had finally loosened her grip and walked away to discuss the upcoming football season with a few of the other men before taking her home and leaving her there — alone.

  What was wrong with him? He had everything a man could ask for: a corporation prestigious enough to be listed in Dun & Bradstreet; great properties across the country that actually made money by renting it out instead of letting it sit empty; a charming, if clinging, mistress; time to do what he wanted…

  To do what he wanted was the key phrase. Without thinking he reached for the phone and dialed the number written on the pad “Hello, Victoria? This is Kurt.”

  Her voice was hazy with sleep. “Kurt who?”

  “Kurt — uh, Wentworth. We went out to an Italian restaurant the other night.” He sounded impatient.

  “And you decided you needed to call and reminisce about a first date at three in the morning?” She pushed back the hair that had fallen across her face, slowly sitting up and turning on the small bedside lamp to double check the time. She was right.