The waiter took their order, returning a little while later with their food. She was right, the lunch tasted like sawdust, the drink like poison. They spoke little, each eyeing the other furtively. Conflicting thoughts crowded in and out of Victoria’s brain. Could there be any truth in what her father had said? She didn’t know. She didn’t seem to know anything anymore. A few short weeks ago she had thought she had life under control — until she met Kurt. Now it was a mess of her own making.
They were sitting over coffee when her father decided to break the silence once more. “Don’t make the same mistakes your mother and I did. If you love someone, princess, commit yourself to him. Completely and forever.”
“Isn’t it a little late for fatherly advice?” She raised an eyebrow, angry that he had read her thoughts. “About seven years too late.”
His patience was at an end. He was once more the senator. “You can’t act the martyr forever. What happened seven years ago can’t possibly wipe out the seventeen years before. The family times we had together. What you resent is that my career and your mother’s and my own poor decisions changed your life.”
She reached for her purse in the chair next to hers. “Goodbye, Senator. Thanks for lunch.” Her voice was flippant her stomach churning over the lunch she hadn’t eaten.
“Vicky…” He hesitated. “See your mother. For her sake.”
“Goodbye.”
She spent two days in her townhouse, mulling over the conversation, the inflections of his voice, her reactions, only to wind up back at the same conclusion.
She had to visit her mother.
The night she made that decision, she made another. After drinking three glasses of wine for courage, Victoria picked up the phone and dialed Kurt. He wasn’t home. She continued to call every half-hour until the housekeeper was as short-tempered as Vicky was anxious.
At two in the morning she reached him, but not before she had finished several additional glasses of chablis.
“Please come,” she whispered brokenly into the phone.
‘I’ll be right there.”
Kurt drove like a maniac toward the townhouse. Vicky had sounded so lonely, so heartbroken, that it had frightened him. He loved her, that was a fact. And if he hadn’t been out tonight he would have been with her sooner. His hand hit the steering wheel. Damn! Why had he let Julie talk him into a night on the town for old times’ sake? It wasn’t because he enjoyed it. There was only one woman who could stir him, and she had been trying to reach him all evening long.
Damn the girl! She was so mixed up that she had begun to mix him up, too! Her fiery, independent streak was going to have to grow up. She’d also have to toe the line and face up to the fact that they belonged together. He suddenly grinned. They’d have a fantastic life together, if they didn’t tear each other to pieces first.
Victoria heard his key in the door before she could reach the stairs. She dashed down them, flinging herself into his arms and pressing her head against his sturdy chest.
“You came.”
“I came for you,” he muttered, suddenly over-whelmed with a need that could not be denied. Reaching down, he swooped her into his arms and marched up the stairs.
Victoria kept her head buried against him, her body singing with unspoken messages of desire. She needed him. How she needed him! He was here, with her, and she didn’t have to be alone to face the heartbreak of the past and the fears of the future. Her arms wound around his neck, clutching him tighter.
They reached the bedroom and he put her feet back on the ground, then stood looking down at her, his velvet dark eyes concerned when he saw the tracks of the tears she had cried. His hand came up and undid the clasp that bound her hair, letting it flow around her shoulders. Soon the buttons of her shirt were undone, the material sliding down her soft skin to lie in a small heap on the floor. Her skirt fell at her feet.
“Come to me now, Victoria. Come to me as a woman who loves me.” His voice shook with emotion, his breath playing along her bare skin as he spoke.
Slowly, but with sure fingers, she undid his tie and shirt, then his slacks, until they both stood naked in the pale golden glow of the small lamp by her bedside.
Her mouth parted silently for his kiss, her arms wrapping around his waist so she could lean against the strength of him. He folded her into his embrace, testing the softness of her slim young body and marveling in the feeling. They blended together, both wanting to be one.
Reluctantly he pulled back to stare hungrily into her eyes as he once more learned the contours of her face. His fingertip followed his gaze, outlining her lips, her brows, her high cheekbones.
“Love me, Kurt,” she whispered simply and he complied, giving her no time to change her mind as he laid her on the bed and followed her onto the cushioned softness, his lips silencing anything more she might have said.
Her hands glided over his strong, toughened form, feeling muscles that moved beneath his skin. He lifted his head to gaze at her once more. Then he lowered it again, taking her mouth roughly this time before moving down her body, savoring her small hollows and slopes, tasting the sweetness of her. Then his mouth returned to hers, fiercely branding her, demanding, his tongue searing her with his heat His hips pressed closer, telling her without words just how much he needed her, and she responded the same way, showing him that she was ready and willing to be his.
“Here, touch me here,” he muttered, taking her hand and leading it to his chest, “And here.” He took it on other travels. “Show me you want me as badly as I want you.”
His mouth took her breast teasing her with the warmth of his tongue. His hand parted the long slim length of her thighs, taunting her with the pleasures to come, and she moaned as the tension built to unbelievable heights.
Then suddenly he was there, and the warmth blazed into a raging heat as lips met and hands caressed and the rhythm of love pulsed between them.
It was a wild, fulfilling ecstasy that made her heart stop beating for eons of time as she arched her back to meet his final thrust. Then came a slow descent that brought her softly back to earth, still in Kurt’s enveloping arms.
Kurt’s head lay next to hers, his warm, lazy gaze watching the myriad expressions flit across her face. Wonder, love, exhaustion. They were all there.
Her hand ran down the side of his neck, her lips found his throat. “Thank you,” she said simply.
He smiled, and then chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
For a moment her eyes closed in contentment peace flowing through her for the first time since she had spent the weekend with him in Santa Barbara. Was that what she needed? Sex? No, sex could be had with anyone. Kurt gave her this sense of completeness and security.
He moved and her arms tightened. “Stay,” she murmured, and he once again relaxed against her, drawing her back into the comfort of his arms.
She snuggled closer and fell into an immediate, deep sleep.
The early morning sun poured through the window, almost blinding Victoria with its intensity. She reached over to Kurt, only to feel the cold emptiness of the bed. Then she smelled the coffee and she smiled.
Within moments she was dressed and flying down the stairs. She stopped at the bottom, glancing toward the living room, then scanning the kitchen.
“Kurt?” she questioned the emptiness, suddenly afraid again. She could smell his after shave, but he was nowhere to be seen. He had left, and without him her spirits plummeted.
The door rattled and Kurt walked in, a newspaper in hand. He was dressed in the same slacks, his white shirt open at the collar, sans tie. He looked fresh and clean and solid. She ran to him.
“Whoa, what’s the matter, Victoria?” he asked as she practically knocked him down. His arms went around her, his hands steadying her. One hand slipped under her chin and he stared into her wide eyes. “Did you think I’d gone and hadn’t said goodbye?”
She pulled back, suddenly embarrassed “I didn’t know.”
“I
told you it would be hard to get rid of me. Didn’t you believe me? Even after last night?”
Her eyes misted over. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Ever since you’ve come into my life, things have changed.” She left the solid comfort of his arms and walked slowly, away.
“You can start believing this way, Victoria. You’re mine. If you never believed it before, last night should have proved it to you. You called me because you needed to be with me as much as I needed you. As soon as we can arrange it, you’re marrying me. We’ll go from there.”
“No! I won’t be tied to you. We don’t fit the same mold and before long you’d want to leave me for someone else, only you wouldn’t, because you’d feel sorry for me, pity me! No.”
He stalked her, grabbing her slim shoulders to keep her near him. “I’m asking you to marry me because that’s what I want! Don’t you understand that?” His voice softened as he saw the velvet moistness in her wide, frightened eyes. “I want to wake up every morning and find you there. I want to share the day’s events with you, watch you grow big with our children, laugh and cry with you.” His voice dropped an octave. “I love you.”
Suddenly she was frightened again. Not of him, but of the total commitment he was asking her for. “And what happens to your lovely mistress? Will you still be taking her out on the town? Escorting her all over the hot spots of Los Angeles? Am I supposed to wait at home like a good wife and hope that you’ll come home to me after leaving her bed?”
His face turned white at her accusation, his fingers tightening their hold on her shoulders. The dark smudge of her lashes hid her thoughts from him, making him angrier than ever.
“There will be no one else for either of us, Vicky. Ever.”
And somehow she knew he was right. But even so, a deep-seated fear of the commitment he was demanding ate at her soul. How could she be sure? How? Look at how miserable her mother and father were – wanting to be together but couldn’t because they were two such different people; one feeding on the crowd and the other afraid of it.
Kurt spent the night with her again, his anger curbed enough to allow him to hold her, touch her.
Victoria was frightened. Her skin tightened as if an adversary was near and she would be called upon to fight to the death. Her eyes continued to probe the comers of the room. She waited expectantly for something disastrous to happen and the waiting scraped her nerves raw.
Her restlessness must have kept him awake, for he finally heaved a deep sigh and gathered her into his arms, stroking her back as if she were a baby. The motion was soothing and she finally drifted into sleep.
In the middle of the night she reached out to find the warmth of Kurt’s body, but he was gone and sleep fled. It took her a little time to adjust to the darkness, but when she did she saw him silhouetted against the bright moonlit window, his outline leaning against the frame. The moonglow showed the serious, contemplative expression on his face, etching it with brilliant white and jagged black shadows. She was afraid to move for fear of interrupting him, intruding when he wanted to be alone, so she watched. He looked so separate from the rest of the world. Her heart went out to him, hurting with her own need to comfort — and be comforted.
He looked so alone. So lonely.
A shiver ran down her spine at the power he exuded He had the look of a barbarian: raw, naked powerful, in his own right. A survivor. He was a contradiction of everything she had ever believed the man she would love to be. He was bossy and arrogant yet tender and gentle, leading her down paths she had never traveled before. He could whip her with words at a second’s notice, yet his kisses were passionate and giving, tender and loving.
And he loved her. She had no doubt of that.
He gave a hefty sigh, then returned to contemplating the illuminated scenery, pondering a problem of which she had no knowledge. His broad chest moved slowly with his steady breathing.
“Kurt?” she finally whispered from the dark. “Come back to me.”
He turned slowly, his face still serious. She sat up and clutched the sheet to her breasts, her whole body a question. Did he hate her? Had she destroyed all that he had given her with her thoughtless words of the morning? Was he disgusted with her?
Kurt walked to the bed and slipped beneath the light covers, turning to hold her close to his cool skin.
He stroked her arm as he lay back with a sigh. “Rest darling,” he muttered into her hair, his deep voice rumbling in her ear.
“I’m sorry about what I said” Her voice was small, weak — and she hated herself for the weakness — but the words had to be said. “I just needed to lash out at someone, and you were there.”
“I know. I understand.” His hand lightly cupped her breast “But that doesn’t mean I forgive you. It hurt.”
“What does it mean, then?” Her voice had hardened. Only two minutes ago she had been looking at him as if she were the only friend he had in the world, and now she felt as if she were ready to feed him to the lions!
“It means that you’re responsible for your actions, and childish temper tantrums are not acceptable at your age.” He slid further under the covers, his head tilting toward hers.
But her compassion for him had fled. “I don’t have tantrums.” Her voice was stiff with anger. “You’re just an impossible person to reason with and I lose my temper with you, that’s all.”
“Victoria?” His voice sounded so tired so weary, and her heart softened.
“Yes?” she whispered softly.
“Shut up and go to sleep. I’m not going to argue with you. Especially when I know that you know I’m right,” he muttered “We’ll finish this in the morning. Then you can call me all sorts of names and I can receive them in the spirit in which they’re intended. Goodnight.”
“Go to hell.”
A low vibration closely resembling a chuckle rattled against her ear. “Not when I’m holding heaven in my arms, sweet Victoria.” He gave her a soft squeeze, ignoring her stiffened body, and fell promptly to sleep.
It took her a long time to relax. But finally she did, with a small smile on her lips as she remembered the gruffness of his tone as he spoke to her and his firm but tender hold on her breast as he held her. He obviously wasn’t angry enough to allow her to sleep alone.
The hospital corridors were painted a sterile off-white. Wide and well-lit, they reminded Victoria of a prison she had once written a small piece on. No matter what the decor, you could never hide the fact that a hospital was a hospital. Her steps were measured, moving her forward even when she didn’t want to go. Room 404.
Her mother’s hair, once as dark as her own, was streaked with gray. Her face had aged; there were small wrinkles around her eyes and chin. There was a deep, haunting quality, vulnerable and yet hopeful, about the tentative smile she gave to Victoria. For the first time, she realized how much she looked like her mother. This woman now was what she would look like when she got older.
“You came. I’m so glad; I missed you,” the older woman said, although speaking was an obvious drain on her strength.
Victoria’s heart twisted in her breast. How could she have torn her mother apart like this? Hadn’t seven years taught her how to be an adult?
“Of course I came. I’ve missed you, Mom.” She took her mother’s hand in hers, her lips grazing the older woman’s cheek.
“Your father told me he had lunch with you. He said he tried to explain things to you.” She gave a small smile, a faint twinkle in her eyes. “But he said you took after me and had mentally run away from him again even before the discussion was over.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
The older woman gave a chuckle that ended in a cough. “Oh, yes, you do, my dear. And I know what your father means. I used to run away all the time myself.”
Victoria’s eyes widened. “You did? When?”
“I tried to run away from your father. Oh, don’t give me that look, Victoria-it usually means you’re closing yourself off fr
om whatever you don’t want to hear. But I don’t know how much time I have left, so I’m going to say my piece. This illness has made me realize I’m not as immortal as I thought.” Her mother smiled as she spoke and Victoria couldn’t help but smile in return. “Time runs out for all of us eventually, my daughter. I don’t want you to get where I am with more regrets than you can handle.”
Victoria squeezed her mother’s hand. “All right, Mother. I’ll listen.”
Her mother stroked back Victoria’s long dark hair, her eyes dimming as she reached into the past and saw the Victoria that used to be as a child. “I named you Victoria because I hoped that you would have Victorian manners, be reticent, charming and demure, with none of the wild, wicked ways of your mother.” The older woman gave a short laugh. “But it didn’t work out that way. You were always getting into things, challenging my authority, seeking answers to questions that I thought time would answer for you if you were patient enough.” She chuckled softly. “But you were too much like me; even your father saw that.”
“When he was around.” Victoria tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but apparently she didn’t succeed.
“He was almost always around in your youth, Victoria. He tried to be there for you. He loved you very much, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t deny that, even if he didn’t always know how to express his love.” Her mother’s voice was firm with conviction. “He never got a divorce to remarry me because I never wanted him to. I wanted my very private life and your father. I didn’t stop to weigh circumstances or consider the feelings of others. I did what I wanted.” She sighed heavily. “And I was wrong.”
Victoria continued to hold her mother’s fragile hand, not knowing what to say and not wanting to think of her mother’s words. They hit too close to home.
Experiment In Love Page 12
