by Joan Hohl
That part puzzled her. Why could her father and Regina fully understand that of all things? That question was answered for her after Wolf finally left, making a big production of drawing her out onto the porch with him, ostensibly to bestow a good-night kiss, in reality to warn: “Don’t say anything stupid.”
Flaming mad, Micki went back into the house prepared to take her chances and tell her father the truth. Her father’s first words to her rang the death knell on that idea.
“You’ve made me very proud and happy, honey,” he praised her seriously.
Her guns effectively spiked, Micki pondered his words in confusion. Somewhere along the road she had definitely missed something. Her father spoke as if he not only knew Wolf, but knew him well. And it was more than apparent that his opinion of Wolf differed vastly from Darrel’s. Choosing her words carefully, Micki tried to close her intelligence gap.
“I’m relieved that you’re pleased,” she said slowly. “I was a little apprehensive about your reaction.”
“Apprehensive?” Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “But why?”
“Well.” Micki stole a glance at Regina. “He does have something of a reputation with women, doesn’t he?”
“Micki,” Regina inserted urgently before her father could answer. “Please let me explain.”
“What’s to explain?” Bruce waved his hand expressively. “So over the years he’s been seen with a lot of different women. He chose you. Good Lord, did you think I wouldn’t realize what a compliment that is? The man is a millionaire several times over and a damned attractive one in the bargain. I’d have to be out of my mind to object to him as a son-in-law.”
Micki’s attention to her father’s small speech ended with the words millionaire several times over. Wolf, a millionaire? Micki shuddered. Forcing herself to concentrate, she caught her father’s last words.
“—and I have enormous respect for him. You just put your mind at rest about the other women, honey. At thirty-six he’s obviously been waiting for the right woman. I’m delighted that woman is you.”
What could she possibly say? There was no way she could look into his happy face and say, Look, Dad, I hate to burst your bubble, but the threat of a firing squad wouldn’t make me marry Wolf Renninger. Why ? Because you see, Dad, he only wants me for the length of time it will take to produce one child. A child he mistakenly thinks I owe him. He may be wealthy and he may be attractive, but he is also vindictive and he wants what he believes is his due. And, Dad, I’m afraid that in the process he is going to tear me into tiny little pieces. No, she very definitely could not say that.
What to do then? Micki shuddered. There was nothing she could say to him. Fatalistically Micki determined to give Wolf his due then run for what was left of her life. Hell, she shrugged mentally, everyone got divorced today anyway. Her mind made up, Micki pushed aside the small voice that cried, That attitude may work for other people but not for you, it will destroy you.
Presently the conversation switched from that of Micki’s future wedding to the more immediate topic of Bruce and Regina’s vacation trip. After receiving her father’s repeated instructions on what to do if... with a gentle smile, Micki excused herself and went to her room. Convinced she wouldn’t sleep, yet deciding she may as well be comfortable while awake, she had a tepid shower, slipped a nightie over her head, and slid between the sheets, where the exhausting events of the day caught up with her and she fell promptly asleep.
* * * *
The morning was half gone before Micki woke. Feeling dull and still tired, she lay staring at the ceiling trying to come to grips with the unbelievable happenings of the night before. That Wolf was a millionaire was in itself plenty to think about, especially as she had begun to suspect Darrel was right in his assessment of him. But that her father obviously knew him much better than she did herself, and liked him as well, was almost too much to assimilate. How had they originally met? And not only how, but why had they become so well acquainted? Wolf had called her father Bruce. Not Mr. Durrant, but Bruce, and to Micki that indicated a friendship, at least of sorts. Frowning, Micki got out of bed. She would simply have to ask someone.
She found that someone sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee.
“Good morning, Micki.” Pushing his chair back, Wolf rose to his feet, his eyes cautioning her to watch her reaction to his presence.
“Good morning,” she managed huskily. “What are—I didn’t expect to see you this morning.”
“Wolfs going to drive us to the airport,” Bruce said placidly. “He’s got the motel station wagon.”
“How nice,” Micki cooed, looking away from the silvery eyes that sparked with fire at her tone. “And at exactly what time does the exodus begin?”
Unaccustomed to sarcasm from her, Bruce and Regina turned surprised eyes to her.
“Are you all right, princess?” Bruce asked, a frown creasing his forehead.
“Yes, of course, I’m sorry.” Micki was instantly contrite. For heaven’s sake, she chided herself, a sarcastic mouth won’t solve anything. Lowering her eyes, she murmured, “You haven’t even left yet.”
“I knew it,” Regina wailed in dismay. “I knew it was too soon after her homecoming to go away.”
“No, Regina, really,” Micki rushed to assure her. “I don’t mind. I guess I’m still a little washed out from yesterday.”
Bruce’s eyes flicked from his wife to his daughter, an indecisive expression on his face. While Wolf sat silently, his eyes narrowing on Micki.
“Bruce,” Regina said softly, “maybe with the wedding coming up this isn’t the best time—”
“This is the perfect time,” Wolf interrupted quietly. “If anyone has earned a vacation, you two have.” His glance, cold and hard, sliced back to Micki. “You leave the ‘princess’ to me.”
“We-ell, if you’re positive,” Bruce asked hopefully.
“I’m positive,” Wolf replied in a hard tone. Then, his tone lighter, he grinned. “By the time you get back, all the arrangements will have been made and you can sit back and enjoy watching me hang myself.”
Bruce and Regina returned his grin and the bad moment was past, except for Micki, who wanted very badly to slap Wolf’s face.
* * * *
The jet made its charge down the runway and then it was airborne, its nose lifting regally toward the sky. Biting her lip, Micki watched the plane until it was swallowed up into the sun-splashed expanse of blue.
“Come on, Micki,” Wolf chided dryly. “I’ll take you home and let you cry on my shoulder.”
Micki flinched away from his voice and the hand he placed at the back of her waist. Ignoring the hard thump her heart gave at the forbidding lines his face set into, Micki moved away from him quickly. At the car she again shook off his helping hand and slid onto the seat without looking at him. The way he palmed the gear lever as he shot out of the parking area told her clearly how angry she’d made him.
The silence was broken only one time on the drive back to her home. That was when he asked, “Would you like to stop for dinner?” And she answered, “No, thank you.”
When he stopped the car in front of the house and reached for his door release, she said sharply, “Please, don’t bother to get out I’m tired, I have to work tomorrow and I’m going to bed.”
She could feel his icy eyes boring into her back until she closed the front door and heard the car roar away from the curb.
The week that followed was nerve-racking for Micki. Business was slow at a time she very badly needed to keep busy. Wolf did not come to the house or call all week, and by Sunday night she had to mentally chide herself to stop pacing.
What was he trying to do? She had heard him tell her father that all the arrangements would be made when he and Regina got back and they would be home in one more week. Was he trying to upset her? Make her nervous? The questions tormented her as she paced from room to room, tired but too uptight to sit still.
Monday afternoon, busy
at last checking over the arrival of a shipment of clothes purchased for the holiday season, Micki went into the shop to question Jennell on an item, not bothering to look up when the door opened.
“On your toes,” Jennell drawled softly. ‘The boss just walked in with a very enticing piece on his arm.”
Glancing up, Micki felt her stomach flip and heard her breath hiss through her dry lips. Cool, relaxed Wolf walked toward her, his head bent slightly to one side as he listened to what the woman beside him said. A small smile playing at his lips, he nodded, then lifted his head to stare coolly into Micki’s eyes.
“Hello, Jennell.” Wolf’s smile deepened. “This is Brenda Rider, Micki’s replacement.”
During the short, shocked silence that followed Wolf’s announcement, Micki felt her hands go cold while her temper flared red hot.
“Micki’s re—?” Jennell stopped short, her eyes flying to Micki’s. “You’re leaving?”
“Yes,” Wolf answered for her. “To get married.” A wicked light sprang into his eyes as he tacked on casually. “To me.”
“Married!”
“Married!”
Jennell’s outcry was echoed by Lucy, who at that moment came out of the stockroom to see what was keeping Micki.
“But she never said a word, “Jennell moaned. Turning reproachful eyes on Micki, she asked, “Why didn’t you tell us?”
“I think I can answer that.” Wolf again answered for her. “Micki wanted an easy, comfortable working relationship with you girls and she was afraid if she told you that would not be possible.”
“Yes, I see,” Jennell murmured, then, her eyes widening in alarm, she gasped. “Oh, Micki, that first day, I told you about—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Micki, fully aware that Jennell was referring to the previous buyer, cut in hastily. “It’s of no importance really.” Ignoring the questioning look Wolf leveled at her, she turned to the woman with him. “How do you do, Brenda. I’m, as you heard, Micki and this is Jennell and Lucy.” A small devil taking sudden possession of her, Micki lifted her hand, waved it in a shooing motion at Wolf and ordered, “Go away, Wolf, we’ll take care of Brenda.”
Another small silence followed Jennell’s and Lucy’s barely concealed gasps. Smiling sardonically, Wolf walked up to Micki, bent his head, and kissed her soundly on the mouth. When he lifted his head he grinned wickedly before, strolling to the door, he drawled, “You’re the boss, baby—for now.”
When she left the shop he was waiting for her, as she knew he would be. Falling into step beside her, he said, “We’re having dinner together. I think it’s time we talked.”
He took her to a small, elegant, dimly lit dining room in another casino hotel. As it was still fairly early, only two of the room’s tables were occupied, and given their choice of empty tables, Wolf indicated his preference for a secluded corner on the far side of the room. As they waited for their pre-dinner drinks, Micki’s eyes scanned the room, the other diners, the black-jacketed waiter, everywhere but Wolf’s face. When the drinks were served, Micki smiled vaguely at the waiter and studied his slender, retreating form, wondering irrelevantly if he had to lay flat on his back to close his skintight pants.
“Now that you’ve done a complete inventory of the place and its occupants,” Wolf inquired dryly, “do you think you could force your attention in this direction?”
Micki turned her head slowly, a disdainful expression on her face. Her icy glance didn’t quite come off, however, as the flush that tinged her cheeks robbed it of its effect. Wolf, sipping at his martini, watched Micki intently, which deepened the heat in her face even more. Unable to maintain his narrow-eyed survey, Micki lowered her eyes to the glass of Merlot in front of her. His soft, weary-sounding sigh drew her eyes back to his.
“How did it go with Brenda this afternoon?” His even tone warned her he was just about at the end of his patience.
“Very well,” she answered tightly, not even trying to hide her resentment. “As I’m very well aware you knew it would.”
“Cool it, Micki,” he advised softly. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you keep this attitude.”
“What gives you the idea I want to get anywhere?” she asked coldly.
“Calm down, babe.” Wolf cautioned. “Okay, you’re steamed, but damn it, Micki, I want you to stop working.”
“I will not be ordered—” She broke off as the waiter approached their table to take their dinner orders. The minute he’d walked away again, Micki snapped angrily, “I will not be ordered around.”
“And I told you I don’t want my wife working,” Wolf snapped back.
“I’m not your wife yet.” Micki had to speak very softly to keep from shouting. “And I don’t want—”
“I don’t particularly care what you want,” Wolf cut across her soft voice coldly. “It’s done, you’ve been replaced, face it. Face this as well, there is no way you’re getting out of this marriage, I want what’s mine, and I usually get what I want.”
“Spoken like a dyed-in-the-wool spoiled brat,” Micki sneered. “It must be wonderful to be rich.”
“It sure as hell beats being poor,” Wolf taunted, his lips twitching with amusement. “I’ll give you six months then ask you if you agree.” Then his face sobered and the near-smile disappeared. “You may have anything your tiny little heart desires as my wife, Micki.”
For some reason the hard emphasis he’d placed on the word tiny caused a sharp pain in the area mentioned. Hating the idea that he could hurt her so effortlessly, Micki taunted nastily, “In exchange for one child?”
“Precisely,” Wolf answered coldly.
Once again they fell silent as the waiter served their meal. Staring at the food disinterestedly, Micki felt her eyes burning suddenly with a rush of memories. How totally different this was compared to the makeshift meals they had laughingly prepared and shared that long-ago weekend.
Automatically Micki put food in her mouth, chewed without tasting, desperately loving the Wolf she’d known then, desperately trying to hate the Wolf who sat opposite her now. When he spoke, his tone had thawed, but the taunting note remained.
“Would you care to hear my family’s history?”
“If I must.” Glancing up sharply, Micki leveled an accusing look at him. “I’ve been working for you right along, haven’t I?”
“I honestly didn’t know it, Micki.” Wolf’s tone held the clear tone of truth. “I seldom bother with the shops in any way. Not, that is, until the last few months.”
‘The previous buyer?” Micki asked over-sweetly.
‘The previous buyer,” he agreed calmly. “She was no babe-in-the-woods; she knew the score. I suspect her vision was clouded by dollar signs. When she became possessive, I shipped her out.” He paused, one brow raised as if asking if there were any questions. When mere were none, he continued. “As I had done the shipping, I was given the job of replacing. I asked for a list of qualified possibles; your name was on it.”
“You chose me deliberately?” she asked tightly, hating the thought of the previous buyer, yet refusing to let him know.
“Yes,” Wolf answered bluntly.
“As a replacement in the store?” Micki asked smoothly. “Or—other places?”
“Don’t push it, Micki,” he warned softly.
“Okay.” Micki backed off hastily. “Commence with the history.”
“It’s a long story,” Wolf began. “But I’ll cut it to the bone. It started with my great-grandfather who, as a young man, bought an inn with rooms for overnight guests along the Lancaster Pike near Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He prospered and as he did, he bought more inns and several small hotels in the southeastern part of the state. He was a rich man by the time he declared he was ready to retire. Leaving the running of his business in the capable hands of his only child, my grandfather, he grabbed his long-patient wife and took off for Florida.”
Here his story was interrupted as the waiter came to clear the table and take th
eir order for coffee. When that service had been completed, Wolf continued his narrative.
“Like most men who survive on work, he couldn’t rest until he’d explored the possibilities in Florida. Before he died he’d acquired six hotels along the southeast coast. When he died he was a millionaire. My grandfather followed bravely in his footsteps. Deciding to take a chance, he invested heavily in a new type of travelers’ accommodations: the motels. Payday, bonanza, and the whole bit. It was a smashingly successful venture.
“My grandfather’s marriage had produced two sons. My father,” he grinned, “Wolfgang the third, and my uncle Eric, who was ten years his junior. Eric was killed in the last days of Vietnam. His death triggered a heart attack that killed my grandfather a few months later. As Eric was childless, the growing monster, as we called the family business, went to my father. Here’s where my mother enters the picture. Working beside him, she learned the business inside out. My father had one passion besides my mother. He loved to sail. He was drowned, blown overboard, during a yacht race off the coast of South America. That left my mother and the rest of us to manage the business.”
“The rest of you?” Micki probed.
“My father had better luck than his father and grandfather,” Wolf supplied. “I have two brothers and a sister. My sister’s the baby.” Taking a test sip of his coffee, he glanced around the now-crowded room. “Family history to be continued,” he said quietly. “Drink your coffee, Micki, and let’s get out of here.”
* * *
Chapter 10
They were quiet as they left the hotel, the silence broken only when Wolf asked if Micki would like to gamble for a while before going home. Her only answer was a sharp shake of her head, which he accepted without comment.
“Go on with your story,” Micki urged as soon as they’d left the heaviest traffic behind. “Or should I say your saga?”
“Got you interested against your will,” Wolf taunted gently. “Didn’t I?”
His soft, teasing tone did strange things to her breathing and for a flashing instant she ached all over for the feel of his arms around her. The mere thought of his mouth against hers drew a low moan from her throat that she somehow managed to turn into a whispered, “Yes.”
