Tomorrow's Promise

by Sandra Brown

  Today the sun was shining and a pigeon was happily sitting atop Andrew Jackson's head as they entered the square from the north gate in front of the cathedral. Early spring flowers were just now hinting at the promise of blooms. Selecting a deserted bench, Nicole dug into the paper sack and extended a wrapped sandwich to Keely.

  "The suspense is killing me," she said, biting into an egg salad on wheat bread. "Am I or am I not?"

  "Am you or am you not what?"

  "Forgiven." Nicole said the word softly and looked at Keely with such contrition that Keely couldn't help but laugh. Laying her sandwich in her lap, she put her arms around her friend and hugged her tight. "You are and I'm sorry too. I've missed you."

  Nicole pulled away and blinked back rebellious tears. "Well, thank God that's over. I thought I'd have to wear sackcloth and ashes the rest of my life. And I look ghastly in gray."

  Her retort didn't fool Keely. She had been emotionally moved and had obviously missed their shared confidences as much as Keely had. "What you did was hitting below the belt, but at the time that was the least of my worries," Keely said, shaking her head. It had been two weeks since she had seen Dax. Wasn't time supposed to heal all wounds? She had disproved that fallacy. The longer she went without seeing him, the more she craved the sight of him.

  "Do you want to tell me about it? That is, what I can't piece together."

  Keely slid a look in Nicole's direction. "And what have you pieced together?"

  Nicole wrapped the remainder of her sandwich back in the cellophane and opened a canned soft drink. Offering another one to Keely, she said, "I think you must have met somewhere in Washington, been instantaneously attracted to each other, known from the beginning that things could get sticky considering your stations in life, and your consciences and libidos have been battling it out ever since."

  Keely looked absently at the statue of Andrew Jackson, where more pigeons had now lighted. "That about sums it up."

  "Keely, why are you martyring yourself? If you want to have an affair with him, have one. So he's a congressman, he's still a man. And who really gives a flying fig in this day and age who sleeps with whom? Be selfish. Think about yourself for a change."

  "I have to think of him too."

  "Why? He's a big boy. He went into this with his eyes open. Knowing you, I hardly think you enticed him beyond the point of no return, did you? Wasn't he the aggressor?"

  "Well, yes, but … I told him right off that I was married, but I didn't refuse to see him either. It was so … he was…"

  Nicole mumbled an expletive under her breath. "Have you slept with him?" At Keely's shocked look she hurriedly justified herself. "Well, hell, I don't see any reason to beat around the bush about it. Have you?"

  "No," Keely said, barely above a whisper.

  "Then no wonder you're miserable. Why for godsakes are you feeling so ashamed? It's not a permanent condition. Sleep with him and get him out of your system. It's not as if you're in love—" She broke off with a sharp intake of breath. Putting her hand under Keely's chin, she yanked her friend's face toward her and saw the tears beading in anguished green eyes.

  "My God," she whispered. "You are in love with him. With Dax Devereaux. Jimineee, Keely. When you do something, you do it up big, don't you? I encouraged you to have a nice, uncomplicated affair and you choose a congressman hoping to be a senator and then you go and fall in love with him to boot."

  Keely was stung by Nicole's chastising tone. "I wouldn't want to have an affair with him if I didn't love him. I'm not like you. I can't separate sex from love. With me they're one and the same. I can't treat going to bed with a man as casually as you do."

  The moment the words left her mouth, she wished to recall them. She covered Nicole's suddenly limp and lifeless hand with her own and pressed hard. "I'm sorry," she rasped. "I wouldn't have said that had I not been so upset. You know I don't censure you. What you do, how you feel about things, is your business.''

  Nicole snorted a short laugh. "Hell, if anyone knows my reputation, it's me." She stared into space for a moment and then turned her head with its glorious riot of hair toward Keely. "Didn't it ever occur to you that I might rather be like you?"

  "Me?" Keely asked, genuinely incredulous.

  "Does that surprise you? I don't know why it should. Maybe you don't realize how unique you are. You stand for something. You were given values, standards to live by. They weren't preached at you. You learned them by example.

  "I'd love to be ladylike the way you are. My language is deplorable and I know it. My behavior is outrageous and I know it. I would like to have refinement, speak softly and with gentility. I'd like to have the respect people have for you." She uttered that hard laugh again. "Fat chance of that."

  Keely hesitated before asking quietly, "Why – why do you … go … with so many men?"

  "You mean sleep with so many, don't you?" Her question was tinged with bitterness, but it was aimed at herself, not at Keely. "I guess I'm only living up to what was always expected of me. My mother deserted my father and me when I was too young to remember it. But he never let me forget it. Every day of my life he reminded me how like her I was – a born slut, no good, doomed to a life of sin and immorality. He took out all his anger at my mother on me."

  She traced the nap of her twill skirt with her finger, remembering the painful past. "I've analyzed myself, you see. I'm looking for someone to love me, hoping to find in each man I'm with the father-affection I never had. From the day I needed a training bra my father called me a tramp. He was right. I am a tramp. A high-classed one, but a tramp just the same."

  "Don't say that about yourself, Nicole. You're not! You have a great capacity to love, you've just never channeled it in the right direction. I think you're afraid to love someone, afraid that they'll reject you the way your father did."

  "We were talking about you, remember?"

  "Now we're talking about you. Behind this tough I-don't-give-a-damn facade you show the world, there's an insecure, lonely woman begging to be loved for herself and not for the flamboyant image she projects. And a sensitive man is bound to see that woman." She looked at Nicole's averted face and said, "Charles Hepburn perhaps."

  Nicole laughed in earnest now. "Talk about rejection! I've tried every trick in the book to get that man in my bed, and he's turned me down flat. It's not that I want him, it's that he doesn't want me. It's become a matter of pride with me. A challenge." She covered her heart with her hand and said theatrically, "He holds great stock in commitment."

  "Good for him."

  "Well, he can forget it if he thinks I'd give up every other man for him." They were quiet. Nicole moved a pebble along the concrete with the toe of her shoe. "No matter what I've said to you in the past, I do respect you and your ideals."

  Keely smiled. "And I covet your courage. Sometimes I think morality is little more than fear of reprisal."

  Nicole moistened her angelic mouth and asked hesitantly, "What does Dax feel for you, Keely?"

  "I don't know. He's said things that made me think that … but then…" She trailed off without finishing.

  "Will you give me credit for knowing a little more about men than you do?" Nicole asked. When Keely looked at her and nodded, she said, "I think he's got it as bad as you do. Wait a minute and let me finish," she said, stepping on Keely's attempt to interrupt. "Don't get mad or anything, okay? I made a play for him myself."

  Keely felt her jaw drop in disbelief and Nicole rushed on. "Now, I said not to get mad at me. Hell, it was worth a try, wasn't it? At the time I only guessed that you two may have something simmering on the back burner. It was after the interview when you went stalking out of the studio like an offended saint. I put all my 'come on' powers into play, but the man was totally unresponsive. Zilch. No go. He didn't even play along, pretending to be interested, but rudely kept turning his head looking at the door you'd gone through."

  "That hardly proves anything."

  "No, but when
I saw you together, he was … I don't know … attentive, protective. Knowing his reputation with females, most of which is exaggerated conjecture, I'm sure, I didn't expect him to be so…" She searched for a word and came up with "Absorbed."

  "Whatever else he is, he is not on the make. I'll admit I've turned down few offers, and in all modesty, few of mine have been turned down. It's not something I'm particularly proud of. What I am proud to tell you is that your man didn't even see these." She cupped her breasts, lifting them and then letting them fall. "He didn't see this hair or these eyes, all of which have been known to drive men crazy. He saw only you, Keely." She stopped speaking to judge the effect her words were having on Keely.

  "Take that for whatever it's worth. If I were to gamble on it, I'd bet that you and the congressman haven't had the last chapter written yet."

  Keely shook her head in denial. "No. I appreciate everything you've told me, but it was over before it ever got started."

  "Strictly off the cuff," Nicole said haltingly. "If you had your choice tonight, who would you rather be with? Dax or Mark?"

  Keely jerked upright as though she'd been slapped. "That's not fair! There's no way I can answer that."

  Nicole looked at her sadly and said in a sympathetic undertone, "You just have."

  * * *

  Chapter 10

  «^»

  Keely and Nicole were weak with laughter as they pushed open the heavy studio doors on their way out. They were clutching each other, leaning into each other, giggling like sorority girls. It had been two weeks since their picnic lunch in Jackson Square. The confidences shared that day had added a new dimension to their friendship. Today Nicole had talked Keely into having dinner with her between the evening newscasts.

  "Can you believe it? I mean really, can you believe it?" Nicole gasped, dabbing at the tears in her eyes. "When I said … when I said … when…" They collapsed into another fit of giggles as they made unsteady progress down the hallway.

  "You must share the joke." They turned together to see Charles Hepburn walking toward them. Dax Devereaux was with him.

  The laughter seemed to be sucked from Keely's body by a giant vacuum. Her mouth was still open in a wide smile, but no sound came out. She couldn't draw a breath. Seeing Dax had robbed her of even involuntary functions.

  "Oh, Charles," Nicole said, going to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. She was still laughing helplessly. "Did you see the newscast?"

  "No, Dax and I were just concluding our meeting. What happened?"

  "It was a disaster. You'll probably lose all the sponsors you've so carefully stroked. But it was so funny!"

  Her laughter was infectious. Dax was smiling. Charles looked at Nicole as if she were a delightful and precocious child and said, "Well, tell us."

  "Okay," she said, straightening and clearing her throat. "I was introducing this news story about CPR. They're holding free teaching sessions in the public schools this week." She inhaled deeply to suppress the giggles that were already making her voice ripple. "Anyway, the last thing I said was, 'Pay close attention. The next thing you see might very well save your life or the life of someone you love.' They rolled the tape, but instead of the news story about CPR it was a laxative commercial!"

  The men joined the laughter. Nicole fell against Charles like a rag doll. He caught her to him, hugging her while they laughed. "I had just said it was going to save their lives and here was a box of laxative on the scr-screen. You fin-finish, Keely. I can't."

  Keely cast a fleeting look at Dax then spoke to everyone in general. "Well, they dumped out of the commercial and came back to Nicole. She was laughing so hard she could barely speak. When she finally did, instead of going back to her script, she handed the whole thing off to the weatherman."

  They all laughed again and for a moment she was distracted by Dax's deep dimple and flashing teeth. "The poor man wasn't expecting it. He didn't even have his coat on. Luckily his mike was clipped on. Anyway, like a real trooper, he started jabbering about highs and lows and pressure systems and only then realized that a cigarette was dangling from his mouth."

  "That's when it really got funny," Nicole chimed in. "I guess he thought no one would notice if he just let the cigarette casually fall out of his mouth to the floor. But he'd forgotten all those papers and things he uses. The cigarette fell right into a big pile of them around his feet and started smoldering. So here he was stamping on the floor, trying to put out the cigarette end waving that pointer of his. It looked like a magic wand that had a will of its own." She was doing a comical imitation of the stomping foot and waving stick and they all laughed again until they were gasping for air.

  When he was somewhat restored, Charles said, "You'll probably all be fired in the morning, I may recommend it myself."

  "Are you kidding? Management wouldn't dare fire us. It was the most spontaneous, entertaining newscast they've ever had. We probably won points with the viewers."

  While she and Charles bantered the issue, Dax and Keely were thirstily drinking up the sight of each other. She was thinking that the lines around his eyes looked more finely etched, as though he hadn't been getting enough rest. He was thinking that her eyes looked enormous and green in her pale face.

  She was thinking that the sprinkling of silver hair at his temples was more obvious. He was thinking that her hair looked lovely as it framed her face. He knew it smelled like flowers.

  She was thinking that the dimple beside his mouth was more beguiling than ever. He was thinking that her mouth had never looked more kissable, parted as it was with her quick, light breathing.

  She was thinking that his necktie was always perfectly knotted. He was thinking how enticingly the slender gold chain lay against her throat.

  She was thinking that he'd never looked taller or stronger. He was thinking that she'd never looked more delicate or feminine.

  She was recalling her vivid fantasy and blushing prettily. He was conjuring up fantasies even as he stood there, his blood flowing with unerred direction to the center of his body.

  "What do you say, Dax."

  Dax and Keely jumped slightly, caught unaware by Charles's question. "What? I'm sorry," Dax said. "I missed the question."

  "I asked if you minded if I invite Nicole and Keely to dinner with us."

  Dax looked back at Keely, his eyes shining. "No, of course I don't mind. I rather like the idea. Not that I don't find your company interesting, Charles." He looked back at the man and smiled.

  Charles laughed good-naturedly. "I take no offense. Frankly, I'd rather have the ladies along to decorate our table too. We'd planned on going to Arnaud's. Does that suit you?" he asked them politely.

  "Yes," Nicole enthused, glaring at Keely with a look threatening that she'd better not protest. For good measure she said, "You and Dax could probably talk about radio advertising. I'm sure you know more about that than Charles does."

  "I'd be glad to help any way I can," Keely said meekly. The discussion was rhetorical and they all knew it. Nicole had only provided them with an excuse should they be seen together.

  The die was cast. Keely had had nothing to do with this accidental meeting. Dax seemed amenable to the suggestion that she and Nicole accompany them to dinner. Of course, what else could he do? Worriedly she glanced up at him, an apology in her eyes. But his eyes were shining down on her with a warmth that told her he didn't mind the situation in the least.

  Without speaking, he took her lightweight raincoat out of her hands and held it for her. She turned her back and slid her arms into the sleeves, keeping her distance. She thought if he touched her, she would crumble. But miraculously she didn't. He leaned forward until she felt his chest against her back. His head came down level with hers and he turned to speak into her ear. "Is this all right with you?"

  His voice was a caress, low and vibrating, like the music of a cello. She tilted her head to one side and turned slightly to look at him. So close. His clean, brisk, citrusy cologne was in
toxicating. The tip of her nose almost touched his chin, shadowed this late in the day by a hint of beard. Short sideburns tapered beautifully into the hair that grazed the top of his ear. It looked so soft. Her fingers ached to touch it.

  "Yes, it's fine with me." Her whisper was husky and intimate and said more than the words she had uttered.

  "We'll have to walk a block to where my car is parked. I hope you don't mind, Dax," Charles said as he draped an arm around Nicole's shoulders and led her toward an exit.

  "Not at all," Dax said.

  Once on the narrow, uneven sidewalk, Dax placed his hand under Keely's elbow. Any gentleman would have done the same. It was only a courtesy. But would anyone else make such a mundane gesture feel like erotic foreplay?

  He wrapped his fingers around the bend of her arm. His thumb wedged itself into the crevice of the elbow joint. Sliding back and forth, it stroked sensuously. Then he rolled his thumb over the two round bones, moving her skin, reminding her of other caresses in other places.

  In the back seat of Charles's Mercedes they sat calf-to-calf, knee-to-knee. Touching nowhere else, they stared at the contact spot, feeling the heat that rose from it. With each movement of the car, the hosiery covering her knee slid along the flannel covering of his.

  Nicole and Charles kept up a lively conversation. Keely and Dax responded in desultory tones, as though to say, "Don't bother us, we're busy thinking of each other."

  Charles found parking space on Dauphine so they only had to walk a block down Bienville to the restaurant. The maître d' knew his stuff, for he called each of them by name and deferentially escorted them to Charles's reserved table in one of the more intimate corners of the restaurant.