All Through the Night

by Mixed authors

  And, in a way, it made up for all the barren years.

  “Well, look at you…” Angie murmured, as she joined her and Tony in a little knot of friends near the door. “Oh, my, Mascolos and everything.”

  “Yep. I’ve got nothing to hide. What about you?”

  Angie cringed. “That’s for sure, in that dress.” Oh, that was snappish. There was nothing wrong with the dress and everything wrong with her. She was still disturbed by Bobby’s unexpected return, still unsure of how to handle it.

  She caught Tony’s eye and he shook his head imperceptibly.

  Right. Pretend it didn’t exist. Pretend Bobby didn’t exist.

  She needed a drink, said so, and Regan offered to come with her. “I need five minutes away from Tony; he’s absolutely smothering me.”

  Angie ordered a martini. “Told you. You should’ve deep-sixed the shoes.”

  “You’re completely overboard today,” Regan muttered, taking a refill on her wine. “What is it with you?”

  Angie shook her head as she sipped at her drink. “It’s nothing. I guess I’m a little unsettled by the way things are changing—for you, I mean. Sometimes you think things are going to go on the same way forever.”

  “Well, nothing much is going to change, either, except I’ll be in Manhattan more, pitching the project. And the money. I love the change in the money.”

  Oh, yes, the money. Hadn’t that always been the cornerstone of everything Regan had ever done, including marrying Bobby?

  It was absolutely nerve-wracking to have Bobby back in town and have to act like nothing was different.

  Everything was different, everything was going to change.

  Tony cornered her when Regan went off to the powder room. “So where are we at?”

  “You probably know as much as I do at this point. Bobby’s bidding on the Herald, and he’s staying on site to manage and relaunch it. That means, he’ll be in our house, in our town, and in our lives.”

  “Shit.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So how did you manage to get out of the house without him asking questions?”

  “I waited till he went into the library with an armful of papers.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “Well, I can’t keep sneaking around, and he’s going to see Regan by the simple expediency of going to the office. And then what?”

  “We’ll sell him some commercial space,” Tony said mordantly. “Actually, that’s not a bad idea. The Herald’s office is this cramped little storefront on the avenue…”

  “Tony—”

  “Right. Tonight is mine, tomorrow, the deluge.”

  “Always assuming my feelings have been on target all along,” Angie murmured.

  “On target? Hell, bull’s-eye. She hasn’t had a serious relationship in seven years, she hardly plays around, she lets off steam at the local spa—and she goddamned doesn’t want me,” Tony growled. “She’s been on a girls-just-want-to-have-fun kick for years, but I haven’t seen any evidence of it, and when you ask her, she makes up the most outrageous stories, and everything just rolls off her like teflon. You’re abso-damn-lutely on target. And now he’s back… God…”

  “We’ll lose her,” Angie interpolated.

  “Or get burned in the conflagration,” Tony said moodily as he watched Regan make her way back into the room. She was so magnetic; people just stared at her, drawn to her, to her unfeigned interest and the way she listened. To her beauty, although that really was the least of it, because in any setting where business was a priorty, Regan was as proper as the most Victorian matron.

  Even in that dress, which was eye-catching and subtle at the same time, she showed completely how well she understood the complexities of appearance.

  “My father always said—”

  “He hated her.”

  “He did,” Angie agreed. “Mother still does. She never forgave Regan for making everything so complicated.”

  “Your mother always had other plans for Bobby.”

  “She still does.”

  “Good luck,” Tony muttered in an undertone as Regan joined them.

  “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Luck. Money. Possibilites,” Tony said lightly. “Yours, mainly.”

  “You’re making too much of this, and it’s getting me nervous.”

  “Okay. We’ll talk about something else.”

  “Like what?” Regan asked, saluting an acquaintance who had just come into the room.

  “Well, there you go—what about your friend Jay Cargill over there? I hope you’re taking note of all the prospects in the room.”

  “Tony—I’m not doing business tonight.”

  “That’s all right. I made sure they were all aware of your new responsibilities.”

  “Isn’t that just the kind of thing you would do. That’s the reason for this party, isn’t it? You’re lining up the pigeons—”

  “Now, Regan—” He broke off suddenly, staring at something over her shoulder, and then he went on, “When have you ever known me not to mix business with pleasure? And what an opportunity—with every executive who’s ever bought a house in the Heights all in the same room—and possibly a CFO or two looking for reasonable office space in commuting distance of midtown.”

  It was just the usual party conversation, but she suddenly felt uneasy. He was a little bit too party-hearty tonight. A little bit too aggressive.

  And Angie was a little too wary.

  “You are a piece of work, Tony.” She sensed everyone’s attention turning elsewhere, saw Angie’s eyes flash, Tony’s mouth tighten. “I thought it was all about…”

  All about… Every muscle in her body tightened. Every nerve ending crackled. All… about—

  She turned slowly as Tony vainly sought to grasp her arm, her hand, just as Mary Lee rang a little dinner bell to get everyone’s attention, and just as Bobby Torrance stepped over the threshold.

  The moment she’d dreaded for years was here. Regan mentally pulled herself up straight and tall, knowing—absolutely knowing—that she was the first person Bobby had seen the moment he stepped into the hallway adjacent to the living room.

  And feeling like she wanted to run and hide.

  But there was no hiding from Bobby. He was too charismatic, too there. Too tremendously changed and too much the same.

  She felt her chest tighten, her breathing constrict. She felt ambushed, vulnerable, as if everyone had known he was back in town but her.

  But that wasn’t possible. Angie would have said, wouldn’t she?

  There was music somewhere in the distance, and she thought perhaps she was imagining it, and that it was just like Bobby to carry his music with him, surrounding him, punctuating his every move.

  He carried himself differently. He was different: he’d grown into his body, his face, his destiny. There was power there now, so much more than before, surrounding him like an aura. And there was a surety, a confidence that came from experience instead of arrogance.

  But the arrogance was there, too. It was in his stance and the way his dark, unfathomable gaze roamed the room as Mary Lee sang out, “ Everyone, everyone—look who’s here! This is Bobby Torrance, everyone.”

  He stepped into the room to a chorus of greetings, and Mary’s pointer, “The bar is over that way.”

  But he wasn’t interested in wine: Regan knew it to her toes.

  “Angie—” she hissed over her shoulder as he veered toward them while seeming to stop and speak to every one of the several old friends scattered throughout the room.

  Angie choked. “I…” but, then, Regan didn’t really seem to require a response. Rather, she was staring at Bobby as if she’d never seen him before. And nothing could be worse.

  Tony moved closer to Regan.

  “You don’t have to protect me,” she whispered. But she couldn’t take her eyes off of Bobby. God, he was formidable. What must he be like in the boardroom?

  Or the bedroom? />
  No! She couldn’t possibly be thinking that way after all their past history.

  She felt numb as a statue. Or maybe she was impervious. And nothing mattered. Finally.

  “Regan.” His voice was like a depth charge inside her, calling up a hundred emotions, all explosive. “Angie… Tony.” He held out his hand and Tony took it warily.

  “Bobby. Back in town for a visit, are you?”

  “Back in town, period. Surprised Mother, to say the least. Angie was gone by then,” he added meaningfully, and Angie threw him a grateful glance. “So, I called the one person who knows everything that goes on in town—your sister.”

  “Ah, yes—my sister, the queen bee,” Tony murmured. So no one could mention his putative purchase of the Herald. Damn. And why would he cover Angie’s behind, knowing that? What a guy. Read the situation like a football play. And faked out the opposition at the one yard line.

  Hell, Ang had been walking that tightrope for years. It was none of his business anyway. Regan was his business, and he couldn’t tell what she was feeling or even what she wanted him to do.

  He knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to throw Bobby out of the house. He felt a primitve urge to conquer him, totally unrealistic and out of line. But that was how he felt about Regan: as possessive as Bobby ever was.

  And Bobby knew it. And Bobby wouldn’t hesitate to use it, either.

  He turned to Regan. “Regan?”

  “Bobby?” Her voice was as soft as her body was ramrod with tension.

  “Let me buy you a drink.”

  What could she do in a roomful of people? “Do I have to?”

  His lips quirked. “I think you have to.”

  “Tony—?” She threw him a helpless look.

  “We’ll circle the wagons. If he makes a move, he won’t get far.”

  “Nice reputation I have. What has Angie been telling you?”

  “Nothing, actually,” Tony said. Well, not nothing. Just not much, but Bobby was probably very well aware of that.

  “Come on, Regan. We can do civilized.”

  “I suppose we must, given how many people have known us forever.”

  “I promise it won’t hurt.”

  “The scab dried up and fell off years ago, Bobby.”

  “That doesn’t mean old wounds don’t throb occasionally.”

  “I take a Motrin and make it go away.”

  “Not possible tonight, Regan.”

  “I haven’t taken one yet.”

  “Let’s just do the right thing, shall we?”

  “This is the absolute wrong thing to do,” Tony whispered in her ear.

  She shrugged, feeling trapped between the two of them. “All right, Bobby. If we must—if you must.” She shot a warning look at Tony, and then let Bobby take her elbow and guide her away.

  “And there they go,” Tony muttered. “And don’t they look perfect together?”

  “Oh, God,” Angie moaned. “It’s starting all over again. Didn’t you feel it, Tony? I knew it. I just knew it. He was looking for a reason to come back, but the real reason he came back was for her.”

  It was the oddest thing, walking through the crowd with Bobby, a step ahead of him, and miles and miles behind him figuratively. This was her worst nightmare and most cherished dream. Or it would have been, a month, six months, a year after they broke up and divorced.

  This was a parody; this was the fates laughing at her, telling her point blank how far she’d run only to come back to the same place.

  She took her refilled wineglass, tipped it to Bobby’s and sipped.

  “This is it? You wanted everyone to see us together?”

  “You really think that’s what I want?” Bobby murmured. “I don’t think you’re quite that disingenuous, Regan.”

  “Hell, no. This is a room full of prospective customers, Bobby. I’ll play by the rules—here. And tonight only.”

  “Good you said that. That’s just how I feel.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  Well, that gauntlet was down, and he wondered what the next gambit should be. This was a whole new game, now, this night, with this woman, who was everything he’d dreamed she’d be, and nothing like he’d imagined all these years he’d been away.

  Standing here in Mary Lee’s living room, they had no past, they had no present except insofar as it was as if they had just been introduced.

  He didn’t know this Regan, and she sure as hell didn’t know him.

  It was a level playing field suddenly, and that left him a little off balance.

  She left him a little off balance. She was cool and elusive, cordial and distant. Beautiful and serene. And she’d been none of those things the last time he saw her.

  Rather, she’d been wild and a little desperate. Beautiful and needy. Sensual and in an unstoppable fury. And unable to handle herself—or him.

  And he—he’d been unbearably possessive, aggressive, and jealous. He’d been callow, inexperienced, and righteous. And he hadn’t listened. And he hadn’t done things, and he’d spent seven long years and three thousand nights repenting his stupidity.

  Or maybe the dissolution of that marriage had been inevitable: they were both too young, but she’d been way more mature in ways that counted, and he never had a prayer of catching up.

  Not that year, anyway.

  And she got tired of waiting.

  And Tony Mackey was there to cushion the fall.

  Their whole lives inextricably entwined with the Mackeys‘. It felt like a betrayal to be drinking the man’s wine when he was going to take away the woman Tony had always loved.

  But—they weren’t engaged, they weren’t dating, they weren’t anything except employer and employee as far as he could find out.

  And that suited him just fine. And Angie’s tiptoeing around things all these years was meaningless. She couldn’t have prevented him coming back for Regan any more than she could have prevented a tornado from sweeping up everything in its path.

  “There are rules and there are rules,” he murmured in response to her comment. “Depends on the situation, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t see a situation, Bobby. What are you talking about?”

  “Rules for business. Rules for social occasions. Rules for ex-husbands and ex-wives…”

  “Rules for them too, huh? What are those rules, Bobby?”

  “Oh, civility, communication, second chances…”

  She thought her heart would stop. He couldn’t mean that. She didn’t want him to mean it—or did she?

  She slanted a look at Tony. He was still where she’d left him, with Angie, and the two of them were watching her and Bobby like Bobby was about to steal the silver.

  No, Tony was watching Bobby like he was about to steal her.

  Oh, Lord___

  “Bobby—”

  He held up his hand. “Don’t.”

  “Well, you don’t, either.”

  “Don’t be naive, Regan.”

  “Me? I’m far from naive, Bobby. But you can’t just waltz back in here and turn everyone’s life inside out.”

  “I don’t care about anybody else’s life.”

  “This is a guy thing, right? One of those divide and conquer moves because you just can’t leave well enough alone. Should I be flattered? Or annoyed?”

  “Civility, Regan. Communication.”

  “You haven’t communicated in years, Bobby, but, all right, I’ll bite. Communicate.”

  What? “This isn’t a flying visit. I’m buying the Herald, and I’m staying on as managing editor.”

  Oh. What? She felt breathless suddenly, as if what they were talking about had nothing to do with business. “Oh.” It took a moment for her to focus. To understand he meant it: he wasn’t going anywhere. “The Herald. Right. It was up for auction. Well. Good.”

  “So glad you think that way.”

  She swallowed and forced herself to regroup. “It’s your money, and your life, Bobby. If you want to t
hrow it away on a small-town neighborhood advertising supplement that was losing money in tidal waves, it’s fine with me. Call me when you need to expand your office space.”

  She turned away, and he grasped her hand and pulled her back gently. And she allowed him to do it rather than call anymore attention to them, even though his hand was dry and hot and melting her skin at his very touch. “I’ll call you because I came back for you, Regan.”

  No! No. Really? No, no, no! You’re not going to get to me that easily, Bobby Torrance. Oh, no. No. Damn…

  You’re not going to have everything your own way all the time even now, damn it.

  “Did you?” she murmured, reaching for a cool response and composure she didn’t feel. And her hand. She disengaged her hand from his with one subtle movement. And rubbed it against her dress.

  “Yeah. I did.”

  He meant it. That was the scariest thing of all. Seven years, no contact, no concern, no care, and he just barged in and expected she would fall into his arms because he still wanted her.

  And was certain she would still want him? Oh, no, oh, no. Even if she did, she’d die before she’d admit it, and even then… and it was too public a place to take the discussion any farther.

  “God, you’re arrogant.”

  “Yeah. I am.”

  “So what you’re saying is, you still want to fuck me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. I do.”

  “You must think I fall into bed with just about anybody.”

  “No. I think you will fall into bed with me.”

  “Right. What—do I have a sign on my back that says, I’m easy? I don’t think so, Bobby, but it’s an intriguing thing to think about. The sign, I mean.”

  Hell. Trust the defiant Regan, the street fighter Regan, to take things to that level just to aggravate the situation. He felt like he was twenty-four again. He felt possessive, jealous, like the hunter circling his prey.

  “Oh, I think you’ll think about it, Regan. Going to bed with me, I mean. I think you’ll think about it a lot because I’m older, wiser and a lot more experienced. And, as I have good cause to remember, you just love experienced older men.”

  Going lower still, warrior that he was. Why had he stooped to that?

  Her body stiffened, taking the hit. “You bet. Nothing beats an older, experienced man,” she said coldly. “So I’ll tell you what—I’ll think long and hard about sleeping with you”—and she turned away from him in a slow, deliberate move—“and you try just as hard to catch me—if you can.”