by Ann Cristy
"I had come out of Lester Damon's office on the third floor and was waiting for the elevator when I happened to look down and see you."
"So, you sent Mr. Damon down to—"
"I called Watson from my office. Then I told Les to go down and handle it. John Watson is an honest man, but he would have required too many explanations, and he probably wouldn't have issued you the check."
"But I had collateral."
"Do you really think that one-fourth of a brownstone is equal in value to the third floor of the Beadle Building?"
She lifted her chin. "My apartment is worth a great deal more now than it was when I bought it. The neighborhood is good and—"
"And the entire building isn't worth a quarter of the Beadle property." Luc took a swallow of his Irish whisky and ran a finger slowly up her bare arm.
She stiffened at his touch. "I have to get back. My break is over," she managed to say. Her body felt both hot and cold. She felt both threatened and titillated. She had to escape!
Luc took hold of her upper arm and scrutinized her through narrowed eyes, a hard smile lifting his lips. "Yes, to your unspoken question, Mystique. I do want something from you in return for granting you that loan."
Cold dread pierced through to her very core. She raised stricken eyes to his, then fled as if all the demons of hell were at her heels.
CHAPTER TWO
When Misty woke up the next morning, Christmas Eve, the first thing that entered her mind was Luc's statement from the previous evening: “I do want something from you..."
Somehow she had managed to return to the Edwardian Room and continue to play the piano, but she had felt like a whirling dervish. Her thoughts had flown in all directions, and she hadn't been able to concentrate. At some point she had become aware that Luc Harrison was no longer at his table. She hadn't felt relieved or glad, just numb.
Now, the next morning, she wished for the hundredth time that she didn't have to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas night. At the time her schedule had been drawn up, she hadn't cared that she would be working those two nights. But now she was sorely tempted to quit her job and hide from Luc Harrison.
Stop it, Misty Carver, she told herself silently. Chances were Luc Harrison wouldn't show up either night. He had a huge family, and he would spend the holidays with them.
Feeling somewhat mollified, she cleaned her apartment and began to prepare the buffet supper she would serve that evening for Dave and Aileen, Mark and Mary, Morey and Zena. Tomorrow she would join Dave and Aileen for dinner in their apartment.
Several times during the day the twins came charging up the stairs to look at the gifts under Misty's tree, their faces alight with excitement. "I like it when Morey and Zena come," Mark informed her, "'cause we go to their place for Hanniker, and we get gifts both times."
"Chanukah," Misty corrected absently as she arranged gumdrops into an edible wreath for the center of the table. She would put a fat bayberry candle in the middle. "You're lucky children to be able to join in both the Jewish and the Christian holidays. You can learn a lot from both traditions."
"Yes," Mary said solemnly. "You get the best foods on the holidays."
"Yes, dear," Misty agreed. "Mark, don't you dare shake one more package." "Awww, Misty..."
"On your way now the two of you. Take your baths and get dressed. You'll be going to church with your parents after we have our supper."
"Why aren't you going to services with us, Misty?" Mary asked, tearing her gaze from the gumdrop wreath. "Are you Jewish like Zena and Morey?"
"No, she's working." Mark tapped his sister on the arm. "Race you downstairs."
"Nooo," Mary said with a moan as her brother raced out the door. She turned to Misty with a smile. "I always say no, but he never listens. Now I'll walk down real slow, and he'll think he's won the race." Mary's curls bobbed as she walked primly out of the room.
"How did you get to be so wise, Mary?" Misty asked softly. She was glad the twins had been around to distract her all day. They had kept her from thinking about Luc Harrison. She refused to consider what he might want from her. She was pretty sure she knew... and she was damn sure he wasn't going to get it. ,
Promptly at five, Misty's guests arrived. After coaxing and cajoling the twins into eating dinner before opening their presents, they all filled their plates with hot antipasto; cold prawns in hot sauce; and then pasta shells stuffed with ricotta, parsley, and sausage.
"I'd love to have some of these make-ahead recipes, Misty," Zena said, closing her eyes in delight as she tasted a stuffed shell.
"All my recipes are for dishes you can make ahead," Misty said, laughing. "That's the only kind I have time to prepare."
They all ate their fill, then settled down on cushions around the tree and opened their gifts over coffee, a fruit board, and Christmas cookies. Misty had such a good time that, long after her guests had departed, she felt as if she were floating on happiness. She hummed Christmas carols as she got ready for work and ran lightly downstairs and outside to hail a cab. Christmas Eve had been wonderful. She refused to allow the fact that she hadn't heard from either of her parents to dull her delight.
At the hotel, Misty passed out the gifts she had bought for her friends on the staff. She laughed when Willis put on his Australian wool sweater vest right over his shirt. "You can't wear your tuxedo jacket over a sweater," she protested, laughing.
"It's Christmas Eve. Of course I can," he insisted. "Thank you for the sweater, Misty. I love blue."
"And thank you for the lace hankies, Willis. Tell your wife they're just perfect to carry with the gowns I wear. My hands get damp when I play, but I'll look very ladylike using these hankies to discreetly wipe my palms."
That night Misty played some of her usual songs, but she concentrated on playing Christmas carols. She didn't think of Luc Harrison until she caught sight of his tuxedo-clad form entering the Edwardian Room. Her fingers faltered momentarily, and she hit a B-flat instead of an A-natural, but other than that she made no sign that she had noticed him.
During her break, she went directly to the powder room and stayed there until it was time to return to the piano.
As she sat down again to play, she saw a hand place a glass on the frame of the piano, where the mahogany surface was protected by a metal tray.
"Thank you, Willis," she said without looking up. "I was thirsty."
"I thought you might be," came Luc Harrison's velvet voice. Her eyes shot up to his granite-hard eyes.
"Merry Christmas," she managed to say through stiff lips. She watched dumbfounded as he placed a small package wrapped in silver paper on the piano, then turned and strode from the room before she could speak again.
Misty looked at the gift as though she expected it to explode at any moment.
"What's this? A gift from a fan?" Willis hefted the small package in his palm.
"You could say that." Misty smiled weakly and bent over the keyboard.
As usual, she was exhausted when she returned to her apartment very early Christmas morning. Yet, despite her fatigue, she was too keyed up and apprehensive to sleep. She felt as though she were carrying a time bomb in her purse instead of a very small package.
She stripped off her clothes, brushed down the green velvet dress she had worn that evening, and hung it in the bathroom where it would steam the next time she showered. She had learned to take good care of her clothing; she couldn't easily afford to replace it.
After putting away her clothes and shoes, she donned a flannel nightgown and crawled into the middle of the water bed, where she sat cross-legged and stared at her purse. Swallowing twice, she unzipped the bag and reached for the gift inside, holding it in her palm for a moment before inserting a fingernail carefully under the wrapping. That was another of her economies; she saved paper and bows.
After folding the paper along its crease lines, she rolled up the ribbon and stared at the box. The name Van Cleef & Arpels was printed across the top.
It took several minutes to get up the courage to lean forward and pull the box toward her. With great care she rewrapped the package and dropped it back into her purse.
Anger made her writhe and turn on her bed until dawn. Finally she fell into a fitful sleep. Her last thought was that no man was ever going to take charge of her life again.
Christmas Day brought laughter, good food, and several more small gifts for the twins, despite their parents' mild protests. As Misty played Christmas songs on the Collinses' spinet, they all sang, ate, and laughed.
Afterward, Aileen handed her a glass of eggnog. "I could swear I heard your phone ringing. You know how the sound sometimes vibrates in the old dumbwaiter. Even though we can't hear anything else, I sometimes hear the phone. Do you suppose you should go up and answer it?"
Misty hesitated. No, it wouldn't be her parents. They never called her. She would call them before she went to work that evening. "No, I won't bother," she said. "It's probably a wrong number."
She returned to her apartment in the early evening. Morey and Zena would be staying awhile longer with David and Aileen, and the twins were already in bed sound asleep.
That night the Edwardian Room was full to capacity with complete families as well as couples. Misty saw a few single people dining alone, and she tried to play just for them. She could empathize with their loneliness.
All evening she kept a sharp eye out for a tall masculine form. Even during her break she searched the corners of the room that she couldn't see while playing. She was determined to return Lucas Harrison's gift.
"Looking for someone, Mystique?" Willis asked with a smile.
"Just checking the numbers," she said, hedging.
Luc Harrison never came. Once again, Misty went home with the expensive emeralds in her purse.
She carried them twice more to the Terrace Hotel. Then, on the third day, she wrapped the package in brown paper, put it in a sturdy mailing envelope addressed to the Manhattan Stuyvesant Bank's main office, and carried it to the post office. Just before mailing it she wrote Personal on the front.
Since she had to work on New Year's Eve, she had wrangled special holiday reservations for Morey and Zena, Aileen and David. Neither of the couples planned to take advantage of the overnight accommodations or the breakfast, which had cut down on the cost for Misty. It delighted her to be able to do something extra for her friends, who had done so much for her, and she refused to take any money from David or Morey when they tried to press it on her.
How could they know what a relief it would be to have them with her on what was for her the worst night of the year? Misty mused when she arrived that evening for work. New Year's Eve was a night for couples. She was single. It hurt, but she was determined not to show it.
As she changed in her small dressing room, a niggling thought chased through her mind. Had Luc Harrison received the emeralds in the mail? She had insured them, but she was certain they were worth more than the maximum insurance the post office had allowed her. She felt as though she were waiting for the other shoe to drop. She didn't know what was worse—not seeing him and not knowing if he had received the jewels, or seeing him and knowing. She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts and studied her reflection in the narrow mirror on the back of the door. Morey was right. Her new silk dress was perfect.
The emerald green fabric was draped around her like a sari, delineating her lissome form in glittering silkiness as the faint gold thread caught the light. Her curly red hair was pulled to one side with an ivory comb, the tousled locks catching gold fire in the light. The four-inch heels of her pale green peau de soie pumps made her a svelte five feet eight inches tall.
As she studied herself, she felt an unusual surge of confidence, but immediately chided herself. She'd felt like that before and fallen flat on her face. She'd better be careful.
As she left the dressing room, she heard sounds of revelry coming from the Elm Bar. The rooms were already filling up for the partygoers' biggest night of the year.
Misty was stopped several times on her short walk to the Edwardian Room by men who had already had several drinks. Two men even tried to kiss her, but she easily eluded them, smiling good-naturedly.
"Happy New Year, Mystique," Willis greeted her. "We're almost filled already." It was only a few minutes before nine.
"Happy New Year, Willis." Misty smiled back at him and walked over to the piano. Before sitting down she scanned the room. She caught sight of Morey and Zena waving. David and Aileen hadn't arrived yet. No doubt they'd had to wait for the sitter. Then her casual gaze fell on a crowded table almost directly in front of her. Luc Harrison sat there facing her. He lifted his glass in a silent salute, and Misty shivered at the hard look in his eyes.
Immediately she began to play, hoping to lose herself in the music. Luc Harrison couldn't possibly harm her here at the Terrace Hotel. She was safe for now.
The room seemed to be seething with loud, laughing people. More than one man came up to the piano and asked her to play a special song. She always complied.
One minute time seemed to be crawling by; the next, she realized an hour had passed since she'd last checked her watch.
At eleven-thirty Misty took a break, knowing she would have to play "Auld Lang Syne" at midnight.
She left the piano and made her way past the tables to where her four friends were sitting. Passing Luc Harrison's table, she thought she heard a low comment aimed in her direction: "God, she's lovely. Why not come over here, pretty redhead?"
She wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Luc mutter a sharp reply.
"Hi," Aileen said, beaming. "This is too beautiful for words, Misty. And guess what? Our baby-sitter is going to spend the night so we can stay as late as we want. Isn't that great?"
"Wonderful," Misty agreed, squeezing into a chair and accepting the drink that one of the waiters brought to the table.
"You look gorgeous in that dress, Misty," Zena said with a sigh.
"And I'll have you know that several women have approached me tonight and asked where I buy my clothes. I told them, of course." The others laughed with her.
Morey poured her champagne, but she shook her head. "I really shouldn't. I'll get a headache, and I'm on until five in the morning." She held up her own glass. "Tomato juice. This will give me the energy I need. Say, why don't the four of you come up to the piano at midnight? Then I won't have to race down here to give you your New Year's kisses."
"Great!" David exclaimed.
Misty glanced at her watch. "Oops! Ten minutes. I have to go. In about five minutes, come on up." She rose and made her way back to the piano, staying well away from the table where Luc Harrison was sitting.
Minutes later, people began counting down the time.
From the corner of her eye Misty saw her friends rise from their table and move toward her. As she sent them a bright smile, she caught sight of Luc Harrison scrutinizing them for a fleeting moment before looking back at her. Then she was too busy to register anything but the guests counting down the seconds until midnight.
"Ten... nine... eight... seven," they shouted. "Five... four... three... two... one! Happy New Year!"
Misty laughed along with everyone else, nodding happily as her friends hugged her and her fingers moved over the keyboard. As soon as she finished playing "Auld Lang Syne," she jumped up and kissed Zena, Aileen, David, Morey...
"Happy New Year, darling." A masculine mouth covered hers as Luc spoke the words, his breath goi
ng into her mouth, his tongue touching her teeth, then her tongue.
Misty tried to suck in air, to release herself from his embrace, but all at once she felt herself free-falling through space, detached from her own body, wrapped in an aura of throbbing delight. She pressed closer to him and heard a groan come from deep inside her, then his answering growl of pleasure.
Misty fell back, ending the kiss, her eyes darting around her. Had anyone seen the soul-stirring kiss she and Luc
Harrison had just exchanged? People were laughing, hugging, joking. Her eyes shot back to him. His face darkened as he bent over her, his sensual mouth not an inch away, his brown eyes burning into her.
"I knew it would be like that, but it was even better than I imagined. You're wonderful." His hand brushed downward over her breast. "You shouldn't have sent your gift back. The earrings belong to you. They're so like your eyes," he whispered.
"No," Misty croaked out. "I don't want anything from you. Get away from my piano. I have to play."
She ran her hands up and down the keyboard and then broke into "Auld Lang Syne" once again.
Gradually people stopped talking and kissing, and faced the piano. Their party hats askew, they began to sing the words of the Robert Burns poem, the poignant lines touching Misty deeply.
She played the song at least four times, until everyone had had a chance to sing at the piano. Then the dancing began. As usual on special occasions, she had the support of two backup musicians, Roddy on drums and Lem on bass.
She was glad to be distracted by her music. She didn't look at Luc Harrison at all, though at intervals she looked up and smiled into the audience. When the set ended, she went straight to her friends' table, where she sat and talked with them.
At three-thirty in the morning her friends rose to leave. They came up to the piano to say good night.
"I won't bother to call you for breakfast... or brunch... or dinner," Aileen said, yawning and leaning on David. "But I have to tell you that this has been one memorable New Year's Eve. Thank you, Misty."
