by Ann Cristy
"Yes, thank you, Misty. And you look beautiful in my dress." Morey kissed her on the lips, as did David. Then the four of them were gone.
"Happy New Year," Misty whispered after them, more grateful than she could say for their presence there tonight.
She watched the crowd dwindle, though several groups remained until after four-thirty. She felt both relief and emptiness when she saw Luc Harrison's party depart. No doubt he and his date would stay in one of the best suites and have breakfast in bed, then a nice long sleep... in the same bed. She was glad she hadn't been able to figure which of the women at the Harrison table had been Luc's date.
At ten minutes to five on New Year's morning, the Edwardian Room was empty except for a few busboys and waiters. Misty said good night to her backup men and leaned against the piano for a moment, rubbing her throbbing temples. It had been a long night.
"Tired, darling?" Luc Harrison crooned, his hand slipping around her waist. "Come on. I have some food ready for you."
Misty blinked up at him. "I'm not hungry." She hadn't sampled food from the buffet because she played better on an empty stomach.
"You didn't eat anything tonight," he told her firmly, leading her from the room.
"I don't want to go anywhere. I'm exhausted."
"We'll eat right here," he reassured her.
"You're crazy. The dining rooms are closed for the night."
"We'll eat in my suite upstairs."
"I'm not joining your floozies!" Misty sputtered as he led her into an elevator. He inserted a key into a slot and pressed the top button on the panel. "You have the penthouse suite. That's disgusting." Misty lifted a hand to cover her yawn. "I'm not staying. I have to get some sleep." She struggled against him for a moment, then subsided. She just didn't have the strength to fight him. Exhaustion weakened her resolve to get to her dressing room, change, hail a cab, and go home.
"Fine. First you'll get a little nourishment," Luc said. "You can't live on tomato juice." He still had an arm around her when the elevator doors opened onto a small foyer.
Misty walked into the living room of the penthouse. She scanned the curving stairway that led to the second floor. She squinted at the table set for two in front of sliding glass doors that led onto a terrace. She noted the Christmas tree and sundry decorations outside. "Pretty... but I can't stay." She yawned again, feeling a bit weary.
Luc put her carrier down on a couch along with the fleece lined velvet cape that Morey had designed for her. "This is quite nice," he said.
Misty glanced at him, trying to stifle another yawn. "My friend Morey designed it for me. He's fabulous." Fascinated, she watched Luc's eyes turn hard, and a muscle tightened in his jaw. "You change expressions like a chameleon," she said.
"Chameleons change color," he corrected tersely.
"Whatever." She shrugged and ambled over to the couch, where she sank down into the velvet depths, her eyes sliding shut.
"Is he the man you arranged the loan for? This Morey?" Luc demanded.
"Huh?" Misty's eyes blinked open. "Ah, yes. He's my special friend." She tried to focus her thoughts but couldn't. "I really have to go."
"I see..." Luc's voice sounded from far away. "Wake up. The food will be here in a moment."
Misty yawned widely and struggled to her feet as Luc took hold of her elbow. "Didn't you see Morey tonight?" She wet her dry lips with her tongue. "He and Zena and Aileen and David were there."
Luc guided her into a chair at the table and went to answer a knock on the door. A waiter entered the room, pushing a covered cart ahead of him. He laid out the dishes and was gone, like a wraith.
Misty looked fuzzily after him. "That was fast." She stared at the array of food, feeling all at once hungry. "I think I would like some of that soup." She watched Luc ladle some into a small bowl, her mouth watering. "Zena makes marvelous soup. She says the trick is to let the schmaltz rise to the top and skim it off." Misty sighed. "I'm sure she and Morey will be eating a great deal of soup until his business takes off. But at least they'll be able to get married now." She yawned again and rubbed her face. "Aren't you going to have some soup?" she asked as Luc continued to watch her, the silver ladle poised above the tureen.
"Ah, yes." He served himself, then cut each of them thick slices of warm bread. "So Morey is going to marry Zena?" he asked.
Misty nodded, spooning the hot chicken broth into her mouth, feeling warmth spread through her.
She ate four bowls of the broth, which surprised her. She'd never been especially fond of soup. But, barely able to keep her eyes open, she refused the casserole and the side dishes. "I really have to go," she mumbled, glancing around for her cape.
Luc stood up and helped her out of the chair. "Not yet. You're dead on your feet. Lie down for a bit. Then I'll take you home."
With an effort, she looked up at him. "I really shouldn't..." But her head flopped forward onto his chest.
"Just a short nap," he urged, reaching down to lift her into his arms. "You're such a tiny thing."
Misty felt the comforting motion of being jostled against his shoulder as he carried her into another room. Then, before she knew it, she was asleep.
When -she woke, she ran her eyes around the gold and cream-colored room, then closed them again. She was still in a dream. Good. She was too tired to get up anyway. She snuggled back down under the covers, not questioning the great comfort of the bed, but wondering why her water bed wasn't undulating as it always did. She didn't even question the solid warmth at her back. After all, her water bed was heated. Grateful for the extra sleep, she burrowed deeper into the warmth, certain that she couldn't have heard someone groan.
Nevertheless, she opened her sleepy eyes and blinked once again at the cream and gold room. She lay perfectly still, trying to orient herself. "If I didn't know better, I would think I fell asleep in the Queen Victoria Dining Room," she muttered, the sheet up to her chin, her eyes registering each opulent article in the large bedroom. "I must be drunk."
"On tomato juice," a deep voice murmured in her ear.
She snapped her eyes shut in a futile effort to hide from the sudden horrible realization that she had gone to bed with Lucas Stuyvesant Harrison! Stunned, she kept her eyes tightly closed, wishing she could disappear. What a way to start the New Year! After all the promises she had made to herself about how she would live her life. This was awful! She'd had no intention of doing such a thing! Was she losing her mind?
She turned her head slowly and looked into glittering brown eyes so close to her own that she could see the tiny gold and green flecks in the irises.
"Happy New Year, darling." He leaned forward and kissed her, his mouth a gentle caress, his tongue a hot, questing spear that set fire to her bloodstream. His arm slid over her bare middle and pulled her to him. "I wanted you to wake up, love. I've been waiting."
"You mean we haven't... ah, made love—euphemistically speaking, that is?"
His eyes narrowed on her, the sparkle in them turning to a hard glitter. "No, we haven't made love—euphemistically speaking."
Misty let out her breath in a long sigh and rolled away from Luc's loose hold, out of bed, and to her feet, snatching up a blanket to cover herself. She fumbled awkwardly, and the blanket slipped, revealing a generous amount of skin.
She stood rigidly straight, almost naked, facing him, her chin up and her hands clenching and unclenching on the blanket. Her face flushed and her skin burned under Luc's hot gaze as his eyes traveled over her. She took deep breaths, trying to steady herself as he lay on his side watching her, the sheet barely covering his lower body. She couldn't seem to force her voice from her throat.
"Do I take it you're telling me no, my darling, even though we've spent the night in each other's arms?"
"That's right—and I'm not your darling." Misty forced the hoarse words from her throat, shivering not so much from cold as from nervous tension.
Luc saw her shudder and reached behind him for his robe. He t
ossed it to her. "Put it on, Mystique. It will keep you warmer than the blanket."
She slid her arms into the voluminous sleeves, which hung past her hands. Only when the belt was tied did she drop the blanket. "My clothes," she said, keeping her eyes on him as he pointed behind her. Without turning, she stepped backward.
His expression darkened. "From your cautious behavior
I gather you expect me to jump out of bed and rape you. For some reason you don't trust me, Mystique."
"And all men like you," she snapped, shooting a quick glance at her silk dress lying on a chair. "Where's my carrier?"
"Downstairs in the living room. Shall I get it?"
"No!" With effort she controlled her anger. She didn't want to see him out of bed, naked and... beautiful. She closed her mind to the thought.
"Damn it, stop that," he railed. "I said I wasn't going to rape you, and I'm not. I don't know what the hell kind of men you've been dealing with, but I'm not what you think." His anger raised goose bumps on her skin, and she backed away. "Damn it, stop it, I said. You think I was wrong to climb into bed with you. Well, I don't, and I sure as hell don't feel guilty because I'm attracted to you. I haven't done anything to hurt you."
She didn't stay to hear more. In a flash she raced out of the room and down the stairs to the living room, grabbed up her carrier, and looked around wildly for a place to change.
"Try the bathroom over there." Her eyes shot upward. Luc was standing on the balcony overlooking the living room, a cheroot in his hand, a lighter held to the cigar. He was naked.
"Thank you," Misty mumbled, sliding her eyes quickly away from his form. God, he was beautiful...
She got dressed in the bathroom, his brown eyes and ash blond hair filling her thoughts. No way! she told herself. No way would she get caught in that trap again.
After dressing hurriedly and combing her hair, she emerged from the bathroom.
Luc stood in the middle of the living room, dressed in brown cord jeans with a champagne silk shirt and brown vest. "I'll take you home," he said.
"No need," she retorted, clutching her carrier to her.
"I said I'll take you home, and I will."
"I'd rather go home alone. I'll call a cab."
He ran a hand angrily through his tousled hair. "Damn it, Mystique, what the hell is the matter with you? I'm sorry if I offended you. I thought I made it clear that I had no intention of hurting you. But I also have no intention of hiding my attraction."
"That's why you sent the earrings. Since I sent them back, you should have gotten the message."
A smile fluttered across his mouth. "Yes, you did send them back, damn you." He took several restless steps and turned to face her. "What does it take to convince you that I want a relationship with you?"
In her anger, the words popped out before she considered them. "Two things: a certificate from the Board of Health saying that you're free of disease, and a proposal of marriage."
For once she had caught Luc Harrison by surprise.
CHAPTER THREE
All the way home in the cab and for the rest of the morning Misty couldn't get out of her mind the expressions that had crossed Luc Harrison's face when she'd answered his question. Shock and incredulity had been followed rapidly by contempt, anger, and finally icy disdain.
"I'm afraid marriage isn't what I had in mind," he'd told her coldly. Then he'd helped her with her cape, called down to the doorman to hold a taxi, and watched her walk into the elevator. Neither of them had said good-bye.
In the shower, as she shampooed her hair, she wondered if Luc Harrison really thought she expected him to marry her. She turned the water on full force, trying to wash away the unclean feeling from her body and soul. He was no different from Leonard and Richard... and her father. He thought of her as a toy. She didn't know when her tears began mixing with the shower water. All at once harsh sobs were issuing from her mouth into the loofah sponge.
She emerged from the bathroom like a somnambulist, wrapped in an old terry-cloth robe. She would not go through that again, she vowed. How many sessions with the therapist had it taken before she realized that her parents felt threatened by her maturity, by her budding womanhood, so they had punished her as though she were evil. Then Richard and Leonard had used her, taken advantage of her. She raised a fist to her mouth and shook her head. "No, no, no!" Moving like an automaton, she began neatening her apartment.
As soon as she finished straightening up the room, she fell into bed and slept deeply, dreamlessly, not wakening until early afternoon.
Immediately she jumped out of bed and got dressed. She had promised to take the twins to Rockefeller Center to skate. Thank goodness she felt rested after her nap. Eager to do anything that would keep her from thinking of Luc Harrison and the pain she had buried deep inside her, she hurried downstairs to Aileen and David's apartment.
"Are you sure you want to take the twins by yourself?" Aileen asked, covering a yawn.
"I'm sure. You and David go back to bed. I know you were up early with them. Honestly, I feel good, and I'm looking forward to the fresh air and exercise."
"I could call the U.S. Marines and have them give you a hand." Aileen warily eyed her progeny, who were at that moment arguing over the multicolored laces in their skates.
"Don't worry," Misty told her and shepherded her charges out the door.
The twins enjoyed themselves so thoroughly during the bus ride that Misty began to relax and have fun, too.
"Look at that building, Misty," Mary pronounced in awed tones, her nose pressed against the window. "It's all wrapped in ribbon with a big bow." She pointed at the Cartier building on Fifth Avenue.
"I saw that before Christmas when I went with Dad to pick out the tree," Mark announced importantly.
"You're just bragging," Mary accused through pursed lips.
"All right you two, this is our stop," Misty announced, urging them off the bus.
The twins were so excited about skating that they forgot to argue as they walked through Rockefeller Center. It didn't take long for Misty to rent skates for herself. Although she usually found the rentals too tight or too loose, this time they fit comfortably. The twins, who had already put on their own skates, urged her to hurry.
"I am hurrying," she protested. "Mark, I want you to retie yours. You've skipped a few eyelets with the laces."
"Aw, Misty, do I have to?" Mark moaned.
"Yes, you do. It will make skating much more comfortable."
"I didn't miss any of the eyelets with my laces," Mary announced primly, making her brother glower with indignation.
"Let's go, let's go." Misty forestalled an explosion by clasping an arm of each and hurrying them out to the ice.
There were fewer people than she had anticipated. They were probably sleeping late after partying most of the night.
Misty kept an eye on the twins, who were making a rapid if somewhat erratic circle around the rink, and she began to skate herself. She had always been a good skater. As a young girl she had even daydreamed of winning a gold medal in the Olympics. But her father had refused to pay for the expensive coaching that would have been necessary. When she'd begged to earn the money herself by babysitting, her parents had told her she was being selfish. Her mother had explained that there were other children in the family who needed more important things, that they couldn't buy luxuries for one child without buying them for all the kids. Misty blessed her aunt and uncle, who had given her not only an old upright piano but also a pair of secondhand skates that she had loved and used for years.
She smiled as she recalled the telephone conversation she had had with her aunt and uncle on Christmas Day. They had urged her to visit them in Florida, and she had made up her mind to do so as soon as she saved enough money for the trip.
Coming out of her reverie, she looked for the twins again and found them in the middle of the rink trying to imitate a young girl about their age who was doing skillful turns and figures. A man
and woman skated up to the girl. Then the man lifted his head and looked right at Misty. The smile froze on her face. Luc Harrison! What was he doing here? She looked away from him and continued skating. How was she going to get the twins away? Of course! She would take them to Rumpelmayer's and buy them some ice cream.
But before she could act, she felt her arm being taken in a light but firm grip. She stiffened, and one of her skates caught on an uneven patch of ice.
"Sorry. Did I startle you?" Luc's mouth curved up in a smile, but there was no amusement in his face. His eyes were like icicles that stabbed through her. Tightening his grip on her arm, he kept her moving forward around the ice. The woman he was with remained on his other side toward the center of the rink. "Linda Caseman, this is Mystique Carver. She plays the piano at the Terrace Hotel."
"I've always wanted to be able to play as well as you, but I'm afraid I'm a rank amateur." Linda gave Misty a friendly smile.
Misty smiled back, not sure if the woman was being sarcastic or sincere. Good grief, Luc Harrison had made her paranoid! "It's nice to meet you, but I really have to go," Misty said, trying to pull her arm free.
Luc's grip tightened. "Whose children are they?" he asked, his mouth still smiling but his face tight with tension.
"Aileen and David's... my neighbors." Again she tried to jerk her arm free, but she succeeded only in bumping into an older man who was skating by. "Oh! Pardon me."
"No respect—that's the problem today," the senior citizen grumbled, glaring at Misty.
"I think I'll go get a hot chocolate," Linda announced brightly, beginning to skate away from them. "Nice meeting you, Mystique," she called over her shoulder.
"Nice meeting you," Misty mumbled, then dug her fingers into the gloved hand holding her arm. "Will you let me go?" she demanded.
"Stop doing that. You'll knock down someone else." Still Luc didn't release her.
"I didn't knock anyone down," Misty sputtered. "You were the one who— Oh, excuse me." She smiled weakly at the frowning teenager she had just rammed into. "See? You made me do that. Let me go."
