A CLASS ACT

by Pamela Burford

  "You're the picture of decadence," he said, as he tossed his towel on the arm of a chaise. "Is this a bout of solitary hedonism or would you like some company?"

  Her wet hair was slicked back off her face, telling him she'd already gone for a swim. She set her wineglass on the flagstone next to a second, full, one. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find me."

  It was 1:30 a.m. They'd returned from the dinner cruise more than two hours earlier. As soon as he'd ascertained that the rest of the household was safely asleep, Gabe had crept up to Dena's room and found it deserted.

  He stepped into the hot tub and settled on the bench across from her. A groan of pleasure rumbled up his throat as he was enveloped by steaming water, churned to a froth by jets in the wall of the tub. Dena smiled and handed him the other glass. Their bare legs touched underwater. The wine etched a frosty path down his throat, in startling contrast to the delicious heat pummeling his body. Outside their little oasis, darkness stretched in all directions.

  Dena said, "You never answered my question, you know." At his quizzical expression she added, "Why did Andrea make sure everyone, including me, knew about you and her and the golf course? What was she punishing you for?"

  Gabe took another sip of his wine and set down the glass. "I feel it only fair to warn you, you're coming perilously close to hearing the dreaded explanation. The whole enchilada. One detail leads to another."

  She draped her arms over the edge of the tub, staring at him expectantly. "Maybe I'm ready for the whole enchilada."

  The enormity of it slammed into Gabe, stealing his voice. She wanted to hear it. All of it. Now that the long-awaited moment had come, he found himself battling a rising panic. He was about to strip himself bare, dredge up the most shameful episode of his life and spread it in all its ignominy before the only woman he'd ever loved.

  What had made him think this was a good idea?

  Her expectant expression faltered. "You don't want to."

  "I want to." Gabe snatched up his wineglass and drained it. "I just don't know where to start."

  Her gentle smile radiated so much empathy and affection, Gabe could only marvel at his own baseless fears.

  This was his Dena. Everything would be all right.

  He decided to plunge into it headlong. "It was April of our senior year. Dad's firm was having this wingding at the Briarfield Country Club, to honor a senior associate who was retiring. It was the first time I'd been invited to one of their formal functions. Andrea, too. I mean everyone knew we both planned to go to law school and join the firm eventually, but this was sort of our … coming out, you might say."

  "And you wanted to make a good impression."

  She was so sweetly understanding, Gabe felt instantly humbled.

  "Yeah," he said. "I really did. This was my first opportunity to hobnob with these people who would be important to my career later on. The partners. The associates. Even the summer interns." He took a deep breath. "My parents had been hectoring me for weeks to escort Andrea to this thing. I mean she was going anyway, but they thought we should go as a couple."

  Dena frowned. "Even though they knew you and I were seeing each other exclusively? Even though I'd been a guest in their home?"

  Her incredulity triggered a rush of shame for his parents' crass behavior. He knew that Dena's folks, Mimi and Carl Devlin, would never have lowered themselves in such a way.

  "They badgered me," he said, "but I can't lay the blame on them. I made my own decision. It was supposed to be a onetime occurrence, this 'date,' strictly platonic. The way I had it figured, it wouldn't have affected you and me at all."

  "Because I wasn't supposed to find out." She sounded resigned rather than angry.

  Gabe made himself say, "That's right. You weren't supposed to find out." He allowed himself a mirthless chuckle. "It's amazing what you can rationalize when you're young and stupid."

  "And arrogant," she said with a half smile.

  "Well, that goes without saying. I talked myself into it really, trying to salve my conscience. It was for your benefit, you see."

  "Of course," she said dryly.

  "I told myself I was sparing your feelings by not taking you to that snobby affair, where you'd have had to socialize with a whole passel of people as stuffy and intimidating as my parents. You were pretty scared of them, as I recall."

  "I was scared of a lot. I got over it. Andrea told me that when you asked her to be your date you said something to the effect that I was out of the picture—'out of the equation,' that's how she put it. And that she assumed we broke up."

  "I don't remember saying anything like that, but I might've—I was feeling so guilty and conflicted about the whole thing. I know I didn't tell her you and I had broken up. I didn't want her getting the wrong idea. She'd had kind of a crush on me for a long time. Well, more than a crush really. She'd bought in to this whole marriage idea our parents were forever shoving down our throats. To her, I was part of the package she was entitled to, along with the Harvard sheepskin and the corner office at Moreau Pittman."

  "So you ask this girl who thinks she's going to marry you out on a date, and you expect her not to get 'the wrong idea'?" Dena splashed water in Gabe's face. "You men can be so dense!"

  "Thank you."

  "We both know you didn't leave me back home in Dogpatch to spare my feelings. You were embarrassed by me."

  Something tightened hard in his gut, stealing his breath. "Dena, I was never embarrassed by you. I…" Don't start prevaricating now, an inner voice warned. You've come too far. "The thing is, I had to concentrate on my performance that night. I was going to be 'on,' laying the foundation for my future. At least that's how I saw it. I had to be focused, and I knew I couldn't do that if I was … distracted."

  "Worried about what I would say or do, you mean."

  Gabe picked up his wineglass, discovered it was empty, and set it down again.

  Dena said, "For all you knew, I might even have answered honestly if one of your parents' snooty friends asked me what line of work my father was in. 'Oh, he's a janitor at the high school. He has his name on his uniform and everything!'"

  Gabe sank lower in the water. She'd read his mind.

  "You must've been worried about what I'd wear, too." A gust of laughter burst from Dena. "With good reason. My sense of fashion is one thing that hasn't changed much over the years."

  "You're incredible," he said. "Why aren't you biting my head off?"

  "I'm saving my appetite." She trailed her fingers through the warm bubbles. "Poaching you first. There was something else Andrea said…"

  "Oh God."

  Dena smiled. "You were very 'persuasive' out on that golf course. A regular Don Juan."

  Gabe straightened. "That is such a load of—"

  "I didn't believe it, of course."

  "You didn't?"

  "I mean, I did at first, but later, when I had a chance to think about it, it just didn't add up. The girls used to talk, too, you know. Everyone knew Andrea was experienced. And you weren't. Oh, don't look at me like that! I'm not saying you weren't sexy. You were sexy, Gabe, you were horny, you were as inventive in the back seat of that Camaro as my pants-on rule allowed, but let's face it. You were no Don Juan."

  He slumped back. "When are we getting to the good part?"

  "I figure there's a better-than-even chance the golf course wasn't your idea."

  "Darn right it wasn't. About two-thirds of the way through that shindig Andrea produces this bottle of Dom Perignon she sweet-talked the bartender out of and says let's you and me find a quiet spot and decompress for a few minutes. The stress was getting to us both."

  "So like a lamb to the slaughter, you meekly follow the self-appointed future Mrs. Moreau out to the dark and deserted golf course."

  Now it was Gabe's turn to splash water at Dena. "Do you want to hear the rest of this or what?"

  "You can skip over the juicy parts."

  "I don't remember any jui
cy parts, although I suppose there must have been some. By the time we got down to it, I was so sozzled it was a wonder I could do anything at all."

  "So she plied you with alcohol and took advantage of you, is that it?"

  "Stop smirking. I take full responsibility for my actions. She was very aggressive, as I recall, and determined as hell, but at some point I must've made a decision to go along with it. It was a bottle of bubbly she was wielding, not a gun."

  "And after?" Dena asked quietly.

  Gabe sighed. "After … I despised myself. You wonder why I meekly followed Andrea, why I didn't realize what she was up to. It all comes back to this youthful arrogance, this absolute confidence in my ability to handle the situation—to handle her." He threw up his hands in mock dismissal of the danger. "She was a girl. I could handle a girl!"

  "Oh brother," Dena chuckled. "'Come out to my golf course,' said the spider to the fly."

  Gabe leaned across the hot tub, filched Dena's glass off the flagstone and drained it. "Hey!" she laughed.

  The heat and wine conspired to turn Gabe to jelly. He couldn't recall ever having felt so extravagantly relaxed. "At this point we come back to the question that started it all," he intoned, steepling his fingers. "Why did Andrea want to punish me?"

  Dena waved her hand vigorously. "Oh, I know! I know! Call on me!"

  Gabe pointed. "The moist young lady in the mermaid outfit."

  "Because hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?"

  "Trite but true. Once I'd made it clear there'd be no repeat performance, and zero chance of us tying the knot, Andrea became vindictive as hell. The first person she told was Rhonda Peterson."

  Dena's eyes widened. "She doesn't fool around!"

  "By third period I was fielding golf jokes from every guy I knew and half the teachers." He sobered. "I can imagine what you went through."

  "I thought it was you who spread it around. You know, bragging about your conquest."

  "I didn't tell a soul. I was just praying you wouldn't find out. Not very noble, but I didn't want to lose you. And God knows I never wanted to hurt you."

  Gabe leaned forward and looked her in the eye. He reached for her hands underwater and held on to them. "I'm so sorry, Dena. I never got a chance to tell you that. I'm so damn sorry for all of it."

  Her eyes welled with tears. She looked down. "I should've let you explain. Back then, when you wanted to."

  "You weren't ready. And like I said, if the roles were reversed, I wouldn't have been so keen to hear your side, either."

  "It was such a crushing blow at the time. Now, hearing about it, about everything that led up to it … I don't know, it's like it's been demystified. Defanged. It's easier now to see what you did as a youthful indiscretion—something that could've happened to anyone."

  "Maybe that's due to the passage of time, the emotional distance you've gained. After all, I've been nothing to you for fifteen years."

  In a small voice she said, "That's not true. I've never stopped missing you, Gabe. I've never felt the same way about any other man."

  He squeezed her hands. Speaking around a lump in his throat, he said, "Not even the fiancé? The one who cheated on you?"

  "Not even him. I think I convinced myself I loved him. It's just as well it didn't work out."

  He said, "Losing you was like … like having someone close to me die. And it was all my fault. I was stunned, shell-shocked. For the first time in my life, I had to face the fact that I'd screwed up big time, and nothing I could do was going to make it better."

  "I was only thinking of my own pain at the time. I had no idea you were suffering, too."

  "Ultimately that suffering was a positive thing," he said. "Not pleasant, or welcome, but necessary. I could no longer close my eyes to what I was turning into."

  "Which was…?"

  "A clone of my father. I found myself exhibiting the same calculating, self-serving mind-set. The same callous elitism. I was disgusted by the way I'd treated you, intentionally shutting my future bride out of a part of my life that was bound to be important to both of us someday—my career. I made a conscious decision at that point—a vow to myself—not to live my life that way."

  Dena was studying him intently. "And did you keep your vow?"

  Gabe nodded. "After I lost you I knew I could no longer walk in my father's footsteps. Not that he's some kind of monster, he's just not the man I want to be."

  "It's interesting. The process of self-examination you describe sounds a lot like what Scott says he went through. Losing Annie became a springboard to discovering his religious calling."

  "I guess sometimes it takes a tragedy to teach you something about yourself. In my case I ended up with a whole different outlook on relationships, goals, everything. That's the good news. The bad news is it came at a terrible price." Gabe searched Dena's glistening eyes. "Not a day has passed that I haven't thought of you, that I haven't wished to God I could turn back the clock."

  She smiled and a tear rolled down her cheek. "Maybe we were meant to split up back then. I'm not the same person I was, and neither are you. Maybe we were meant to find each other when the time was right."

  Gabe brushed away her tear with his thumb. "I love you, Dena. I've never stopped loving you." He cupped her face. "I always have and I always will."

  She touched her fingers to his lips. "Don't say that, Gabe. It's too soon. Don't even think about always."

  He wanted to think about it. He wanted to talk about it, plan it, live it, shout it from the rooftops. His always with Dena. Instead he slid off the bench and knelt in the warm, churning water. She didn't object when he parted her legs and moved between them. He pressed weightless kisses to her cheeks, and a lingering one on her mouth. She tasted like wine and tears and hope.

  His lips found her ear. "It's prom night."

  * * *

  12

  « ^ »

  Dena's fingers tangled in Gabe's hair. She kissed him with a blind intensity that frightened her. Prom night.

  Words heavy with private meaning, ripe with promise. For fifteen years Dena had wondered how it would have been if she and Gabe had made love on prom night, as they'd planned. If they'd been each other's first. And last.

  Their arms locked around each other, and she found herself slipping off the bench, kneeling belly to belly with Gabe on the smooth floor of the hot tub as steaming water surged and pulsed around them.

  Would the anticipation have been this wondrous fifteen years ago? This perfect?

  Probably not. What she'd said was true. They were different people now.

  The kiss took on a life of its own as Gabe's tongue thrust and retreated, fueling Dena's arousal. The solid ridge of his erection pressed against her belly, and she seized his buttocks, pulling him closer still.

  Gabe broke off, breathing hard. Dena gulped air, filling her lungs with the perfume of the flowering shrubs that surrounded the pool and guarded their privacy. He stood, pulling her to her feet. The water came to midthigh.

  "Stay here," Gabe said. He stepped out of the tub, plucked a pale flower from a nearby bush and returned to her. He held it under her nose, and she inhaled its lush scent. Not being a plant person, she had no idea what variety it was.

  "Every girl needs a corsage for her prom," he said, and tucked the blossom behind her ear.

  She touched the petals, softer than the finest velvet. He pulled her into his arms as he had earlier that evening aboard the Crystal II. They started dancing, moving in a small circle in the hot tub.

  Dena rested her head on Gabe's shoulder. Crickets trilled. Somewhere far away a dog barked. She sighed. "They're playing our song."

  "I tipped the band." His hand glided down her back and rested lightly on her bottom.

  After a long moment she murmured, "Gabe? Are we going to regret this?"

  "No." He made her look him in the eye. "I've never felt anything so right. You feel it. I know you do."

  She couldn't deny it.

&
nbsp; Gabe grasped the top of her strapless swimsuit and pulled it down to her waist. Pale moonlight from above and the unearthly glow from the tub combined to cast the angles of his face in sharp relief. His hair was disheveled and his eyes glowed even in shadow as he stared at her, giving him a predatory appearance that sent of shiver of excitement through her.

  He bent and placed a soft kiss on the tingling, pebbled tip of one breast. Dena clutched his shoulders, dizzy with desire. His scalding mouth closed over the nipple and she bit back a cry. The leisurely, rhythmic tugging of his mouth, the teasing stroke of his tongue, drove her to the edge of madness.

  She uttered pleas, and oaths, and desperate, keening sounds with an eloquence all their own. He kissed his way to the other side, in no hurry, as if savoring every second. He suckled her with mounting urgency, and bit gently, wringing sharp little gasps of delight from her.

  Dena slid her hand down his torso and under the drawstring waistband of his swim trunks, shocked by her boldness. She and Gabe had never touched below the waist back when they were dating. She closed her fingers around his penis and felt the hot, hard thickness of it buck impatiently. Gabe jerked as if burned. The breath left his lungs in one long, guttural groan.

  He stripped off his trunks and tossed them onto the flagstones. Her swimsuit followed, and he hurled it away without taking his eyes from her. It plopped into the pool and sank to the bottom.

  Gabe held her at arm's length and looked at her, all of her. "You take my breath away." He growled in frustration. "I wanted to go slow for you, but, love, I've got to tell you, I don't think I can wait much longer."

  "Oh, good." She hurled herself at him and kissed him soundly on the mouth. "We can go slow next time." Another kiss. "Or the time after that." She kissed him as he lifted her and wrapped her legs around his hips. "Or the third time or the fourth or—" The rest was lost on a sharp gasp as he lowered her onto his erection, filling her in one long, slow thrust.

  Gabe hadn't lied. Nothing had ever felt so right.