by Joan Hohl
Sighing softly, Micki stood up and began to undress. She would have to contact Darrel soon, give him her answer, and that answer would have to be no.
In sudden anger Micki tossed her clothes into the hamper, tugged a silky nightdress over her head, and flung herself across her bed. Burying her face in her pillow, she wept quietly, damning the night she’d laid eyes on Wolf Renninger, damning the love for him that consumed her, and damning her own stupidity in accepting his challenge. She had been all right as long as she could not see him, be near him. But she knew that if she went with him Friday night it would just be a matter of time before she found herself in his arms, and in his bed, again. The urge to surrender that had swept through her that fateful afternoon had been all the proof she needed. She loved him and in loving him she wanted him desperately.
Rolling onto her back, Micki brushed impatiently at the tears on her cheeks. For six years she had repressed all her normal physical wants and needs. She had been called frigid. Some had even suggested therapy was called for. Micki had laughed at some and ignored them all. She knew exactly how normal her response could be. She had felt the hunger fire her blood. That hunger was for one man only. She had found the kisses, the light caresses, of several men pleasing. But only one man’s mouth and hands could set her whole being alight. And now that one man, that Wolf, was stalking her again.
“No!”
The firm exclamation sounded loud in the dark room. Sitting up in the middle of the bed, Micki clenched her hands into fists. She could not go through that pain again. She would not expose herself to it. This time when Wolf came to pick her up she really would not be home. The decision made, Micki lay down again and went to sleep.
On Thursday Micki called the shop in Atlantic City to ask if it would be convenient for her to stop in sometime Friday afternoon. The enthusiastic reception her request was met with left her with a feeling of deep satisfaction.
Friday afternoon she bathed and dressed with extra care, then went looking for Regina to tell her she would not be home for dinner.
“If Cindy or anyone calls,” she tossed casually over her shoulder, as she headed for the door, “tell them I expect to be late getting home and I’ll return their call tomorrow.”
Not wanting to field any questions Regina might throw, she hurried out the door and into her car. During the drive up the coast she determinedly pushed all thoughts of Wolf and his possible reaction to her action out of her mind.
It was a beautiful, hot day, the sun a bold yellow disc in a cloudless, blatantly blue sky. A day, Micki thought reminiscently, for healthy young things to laugh and romp on the scorching hot sand.
After parking the car near the hotel in which the shop was located, Micki walked along slowly, craning her neck like a tourist at the many changes that had taken place in the years since she’d last been in the city. So many of the old familiar buildings along the long boardwalk were gone, replaced by the large, elaborate hotels. The air literally reverberated with the sounds of construction.
Inside the hotel the air hummed a different tune. The place was crowded with people, all, it seemed, with one objective in mind—to get into the casino as quickly as possible.
Weaving in and out of the throng, Micki made her way to the reception desk. The cool, unruffled young man behind the desk gave her directions to the boutique politely, while running a practiced eye over her face and figure. When she thanked him, equally politely, he gave her an engaging grin and asked if she was free that evening.
“No, sorry,” Micki grinned back. “I have an appointment.”
“Why is it always some other guy that has all the luck?” He smiled sadly, then turned to the very impatient lady standing next to Micki.
The short exchange amused her, and with a jaunty step Micki walked through the lobby to the escalator the young man had indicated. As the steps moved up, her eyes roamed over the interior of the casino. The room was huge yet, incredibly, every square inch appeared to be occupied by humanity.
At the top of the escalator Micki paused to get her bearings. Directly across from her was the small cocktail lounge the desk clerk had mentioned, so the boutique should be a little farther down this wide expanse of hall. She found the shop exactly where he’d said she would.
With a knowledgeable eye Micki studied the displays inside the small windows on either side of the entrance to the shop. The one window proclaimed sun and fun with slightly reduced summer togs. The other window was a forecast of coming fall with soft plaid skirts and cashmere blazers. Very nice, Micki mused, very, very nice.
The manager of the shop turned out to be the woman Micki had spoken to the day before, and she was turned out very well indeed. A few years older than Micki, the woman, though not really beautiful, gave a good impression of being so. Her hair was a natural flaming red. Her skin a sun-kissed ivory. She was taller than Micki and her very slender body was beautifully clothed in an exquisite raw silk sheath that had Micki murmuring a silent prayer of thanks for the urge that had made her dress with such care.
While Micki had been studying the woman, the redhead had been making her own evaluation and they seemed to reach the same conclusions at exactly the same time. For just as Micki was giving thanks, the redhead smiled and extended a slim, long-nailed hand.
‘Jennell Clark,” she offered in a soft drawl. “And you must be Micki Durrant.”
“I am.” The hand Micki stretched out was just as slim, the rounded nails every bit as long. “How do you do?”
“Very well, actually.”Jennell’s soft laugh was a delight to the ears. “Glad to have you with us.” Her eyes ran over Micki again. “If you buy for the shop as well as you buy for yourself I have a feeling I’ll be doing even better.”
“Thank you,” Micki laughed with her. “I’ll do my best.” Then unable to exactly place the soft drawl in Jennell’s tone, she asked, “Are you from the South?”
“Yes,” Jennell again favored her with a laugh. “But not too far south, Richmond, Virginia. Where are you from?”
“Only a little south of here,” Micki grinned. “Ocean City, New Jersey.”
Jennell introduced her to the shop’s other two employees, a petite, pretty young woman named Lucy and a strikingly beautiful black woman named Georgine. The three of them filled Micki in on the running of the store in no time.
The rest of the afternoon flew by so quickly, Micki was surprised when Jennell said it was time to close the shop. She was on the point of saying good-bye when Jennell asked, “Do you have plans for dinner? I mean do you have a date or are you expected home or anything?”
Micki thought fleetingly of Wolf, then shook her head. “No, no date or plans or anyone expecting me.”
‘Then come have dinner with us,” Jennell coaxed. “Lucy’s guy is out of town. Georgine’s between guys and I”—an impish smile curved her red lips—”I’m punishing my man at the moment.”
“Punishing?” Micki laughed.
“Well, just a little,” the redhead drawled. “He was getting much too possessive and I’m letting him know I won’t be owned. Will you come?”
As both Lucy and Georgine added their pleas to Jennell’s, Micki agreed and the four of them left the shop, all talking at the same time.
They had dinner in a small restaurant where the decor was unexceptional and the food out of this world. While they ate, Micki learned that all three women came from other shops in the chain. Jennell from one in Washington, D.C., Lucy from one in Baltimore, and Georgine from one in New York City.
“I’ve been here for over a year,” Jennell volunteered. “Georgine came a few months after I did and Lucy joined us three months ago. Your predecessor came from Philadelphia at the same time as I did.” She fluttered her lashes dramatically, drawled over-sweetly. “She’s been transferred to Miami.” Jennell smiled derisively. “She went too far with the boss.”
“You didn’t like her?” Micki’s question was greeted by rolled eyes and snorts of laughter.
&nb
sp; “Honey,” Jennell drawled softly, “I could sooner like a rattlesnake.”
“She really wasn’t very pleasant to work with.” This from the small, somewhat shy, Lucy.
“She was a first-rate bitch,” Georgine, every inch as worldly as she was beautiful, stated flatly.
“Yes,” Jennell concurred. “Our buyer decided to play footsie with the owner. He shipped her out when she became demanding. I mean”—the drawl was laid on thick—”one just does not fool around with that man. Let alone demand marriage.”
Micki frowned. When Jennell had said the boss, Micki assumed she’d been referring to their regional manager, Hank Carlton. But she’d just now said the owner and Micki had never met the owner, had not, in fact, ever heard his name mentioned. She was about to ask Jennell who the owner was when Lucy said something about finding a new man for Georgine and the thought went out of her head.
Their suggestions to Georgine ran from the ridiculous from Lucy:
“You could take an ad in the personal column like: Wanted: good-looking man between the ages of twenty-five and forty, must be fantastic dancer.” To Micki she confided, “Georgine would rather dance than eat.”
To the outrageous from Jennell:
“You could always station yourself on the boardwalk and smile sweetly at all the better-looking men. Of course,” she drawled heavily, “you’d have no idea which ones could dance. But then, look at all the fun you could have teaching them.”
“The way my luck’s been running,” Georgine grinned, “if I took a newspaper ad I’d only get replies from the uglies and the crazies.” The grin grew wider and her eyes sparkled impishly. “And if I stationed myself on the boardwalk, I’d probably wind up with my fanny in the canny.”
A smile teased Micki’s lips as she drove home that evening. She had enjoyed the dinner and the company very much. They had lingered, laughing over their coffee until the arch look of the proprietor sent them, still laughing, out of the restaurant.
The three women had insisted on escorting Micki to her car, where they stood talking for an additional twenty minutes. By the time Micki drove her car off the parking lot she felt as if she’d known them all her life.
She’d had a good time, she told herself as she drove the car up the driveway of her father’s house, a very good time. She had hardly thought about Wolf all evening, she realized as her fingers turned the key, shutting off the engine. Well, she mentally qualified, she hadn’t thought about him too often, she admitted as she pulled on the hand brake. So, okay, he’d been in her thoughts constantly, she finally confessed disgustedly as she swung out of the car and headed for the kitchen door. But she had enjoyed her day and her evening.
“That you, princess?” her father called as she closed the door.
“No,” Micki called back. “I’m a burglar, I’ve come for the silver.”
“Good luck,” he laughed. “We are strictly a stainless steel family.”
“Well, in that case, I guess I’ll go back to being the princess.” Micki smiled, entering the living room. “At least I’ll have a title, even if there is no silver to inherit.”
“Hi, honey.” Although her father smiled, one brow went up in question. “Did you forget you had a date this evening?”
“A date?”
Even with the sudden acceleration of her pulse, Micki had somehow managed to keep her tone innocent.
“With Wolf Renninger,” Bruce prompted gently, then he winced. “I wouldn’t say he was exactly happy when I told him you weren’t here.” He paused, his eyes narrowing in thought. “I had the oddest feeling that I’d gone through the same thing before.” A frown leveled his brows. “What are you up to, young lady?”
“I—I’m not up to anything,” Micki murmured nervously. She hated deceiving her father, yet she couldn’t bring herself to confide in him. “I got caught up in the business of the shop and when the shop manager asked me to join her and the two women who work in the store, I accepted. I simply forgot I’d made the date with Wolf.”
Micki wet her dry lips, trying not to see the sharp-eyed glance Regina gave her. Her father’s memory might be a little cloudy, but Regina’s certainly wasn’t.
“Wolf has called twice in the last hour,” Regina supplied quietly. “He seemed to be becoming angrier every time I had to tell him you hadn’t come home yet.”
“I think if the phone rings you had better answer it,” Bruce advised. “You forgot the date and you can apologize your way out of it.”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth when the doorbell rang. Micki’s body jerked as though someone had touched a live wire to her.
“Go to it, girl.” Her father flipped his hand in the direction of the front door. “I think there’s little doubt who that is.” He stood up, his hand reaching for Regina’s. “We’ll be discreet and give you some privacy.”
The bell sounded again and Micki started for the door, her steps betraying her trepidation. Her father’s soft laugh sounded from the stairs.
“You’re not going to the gallows, honey,” he chided. “Just give him your sweetest smile and he’ll forget why he’s angry.”
I’ll bet, Micki thought grimly, her hand shaking as she reached for the doorknob. She swung the door open bravely, then bit her lip fearfully. Wolf, looking hard-jawed and cold-eyed and madder than hell, stood, hands thrust into his pants pockets, staring balefully at her. Stepping out onto the porch, Micki closed the door softly behind her, her mind searching for something to say. Wolf brought her search to an end.
“I don’t believe it.” His cool tone, so opposed to the hot anger in his eyes, sent a tremor bouncing down her spine. “I really don’t believe it.”
“What?” Micki was almost afraid to ask.
“You did it again.” A touch of wonder colored the cool tone. “Do you get your kinky little kicks out of standing up many of your dates, or do I alone hold that honor?”
“Wolf.” Micki had to fight to keep her voice even. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah.” Wolf smiled crookedly. “I’ll bet you are.”
“All right, I’m not,” Micki snapped. “If you’ll recall, I didn’t want to go out with you in the first place.”
Angry herself now, she moved away from him, down the porch steps, and along the front walk to the pavement without the slightest idea of where she was going.
“But you did agree to have dinner with me.” His long strides brought him alongside her before she’d taken six steps on the pavement. “Didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she admitted, turning south when she reached the corner.
Matching his stride to hers, Wolf walked beside her silently. At least he didn’t ask me where I’m going, she thought wryly.
“Where the hell are you going?”
His impatient words followed on the heels of her thought and Micki couldn’t repress the smile that tugged at her lips.
“I said something funny?” His tone was not amused.
“No,” Micki sighed. “It’s just that I don’t know where I’m going.”
“That’s pretty damned obvious,” Wolf drawled sardonically, leaving little doubt in her mind he meant the direction of her life, not her impromptu walk.
“I just felt like walking,” Micki shrugged in annoyance.
“I see,” Wolf drawled softly.
“You didn’t have to come along,” she snapped irritably.
“True,” he agreed, with a maddening calmness.
Their quick stride ate up the blocks during their exchange and when they had to stop at a corner to wait for traffic Micki realized with surprise that they were near the city’s shopping district. Grasping her arm, Wolf began walking east.
“Where the hell are you going?” Micki flung his words back at him.
‘To the boardwalk,” he answered imperturbably.
“Whatever for?” she demanded.
“Why does anyone stroll the boards?” He shrugged, elegantly. “To gaze at the ocean, to feel the sea breeze agai
nst the skin, to wander in and out of the shops.” He slanted a barbed look at her. “To have something to eat. At least those who have been stood up and didn’t eat any dinner do.”
His hand placed firmly at the back of her waist propelled her up the ramp and onto the boardwalk still crowded with people at ten o’clock at night.
“Come on, babe, I’ll buy you a slice of pizza at Mack and Manco’s.” His eyes raked her face. “Not exactly what I’d planned but,” he shrugged, “I like the pie and it will fill up the hole in my stomach.”
Unsure if he was telling the truth or not about not having eaten, Micki allowed him to lead her to the pizza stand. The stand’s outside counter was three deep with people and, grasping her hand, Wolf edged around the bodies and drew her inside the shop. While they waited for two seats to become vacant Micki watched, as fascinated as she’d been as a young girl, the swift, dexterous movements of the young men behind the counter as they assembled the pizzas and slid them into and out of the ovens. And the aroma! Even though she’d had dinner, Micki ran her tongue over her lips in anticipation.
Once seated, they were served quickly and Micki was soon convinced Wolf had not been lying about not eating. He consumed four slices of pizza to her one and as soon as they were out of the shop said, “Let’s walk awhile, then we’ll hunt up some dessert.”
“On top of all that pizza!” Micki exclaimed.
“Look at me, Micki,” Wolf urged chidingly. ‘Tom Thumb I’m not I’ve got a big body and it’s got to be filled occasionally. It is now”—he glanced at his watch—”ten thirty-five. That pizza was the first solid food I’ve had since somewhere around noon.” His tone went bland. “Yes, I am going to sink some dessert on top of all that pizza.”
“Solid food?” Micki jabbed at him, as if dial’s all she’d heard of his statement.
“Did I ask you if you’d been drinking?” Wolf jabbed back harder.
Fuming, Micki walked beside him, uncomfortably aware he was laughing, if silently, at her. After several quiet minutes, curiosity and a concern she didn’t want to feel got the better of her.
