Promises, Promises

by Shelley Cooper

  Whistles and catcalls from the field jolted her back to reality. With painful clarity she realized exactly where she was, what she was doing and who she was doing it to. Abruptly, her heart racing faster than her thoughts, she pulled away.

  “I’m sorry,” she muttered, not meeting his gaze. “I didn’t mean to get carried away like that.”

  “Gretchen,” Marco said softly.

  She looked up.

  His smile held none of the awareness she was feeling. “Don’t apologize,” he said. “It’s perfectly acceptable for one adventurer to share her enthusiasm with another adventurer.”

  “Even if that enthusiasm takes the form of a hug?”

  “What’s a hug between friends?”

  What indeed. Amazingly, he was taking her action at face value. He wasn’t reading anything else into her spontaneous embrace.

  “You really are making progress,” she said.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Leo ran over to them. “Great hit, Gretchen.”

  Smiling she turned to face the youth. “Thanks.”

  Leo bit his lip and toed the ground in front of him. “The guys and I were talking, and…well, we agreed that you could play in the game. If you want to, that is.”

  Her smile felt as wide as the Grand Canyon. “I’d love to play.” She turned to Marco. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  “You can play, too,” Leo told Marco.

  “No, thanks,” Marco replied. “I’m kind of tired right now.”

  Gretchen couldn’t resist. “He’s had a strenuous morning.”

  Amusement flickered in Marco’s eyes. And, maybe, just a hint of admiration.

  “Yes, I have.” He nodded toward the bleachers. “I think I’ll go sit and rest my weary bones over there. You guys have fun.”

  While Gretchen followed Leo to the dugout, she couldn’t help reflecting yet again on the change in Marco’s attitude between yesterday and today. Clearly, if he was plagued by any unwanted emotions toward her, he held them firmly in check. Based on her consuming need to touch him when she’d thrown herself into his arms, she was rapidly losing control.

  He might be making progress, but she was definitely regressing. Worse, she was doing exactly what she’d told herself she wouldn’t do. She was falling for him. Hard.

  She hadn’t gotten her wish after all.

  His landlady was going to be the death of him.

  Aching in every joint and muscle, Marco pulled on his swimming trunks. His movements were slow and torturous, and he winced in discomfort. The task finally completed, he wrapped a towel around his neck, sank onto the edge of his bed, bowed his head and thrust his fingers through his hair.

  It was eleven-thirty Sunday night. Seven days after the start of his and Gretchen’s adventure. The week had passed in a blur of activity that made his head spin just thinking about it. He’d never felt this weary in his life. Not even as a resident, when he’d often spent thirty-six hours straight on his feet.

  Water. Cold water, he told himself. With a groan, he pushed off the bed and dragged his aching body into the bathroom to splash water on his face.

  The man reflected back to him in the mirror looked haggard. One thing was certain: he was definitely out of shape. More than being physically exhausted, though, his mental resources were at an all-time low.

  Which was not a good thing, since he was meeting his landlady in just a few minutes.

  A picture of Gretchen as he’d last seen her, twenty minutes ago, flashed into his mind. While he felt completely wrung out, she, on the other hand, positively glowed with exhilaration. With each passing adventure she grew more luminous, more beautiful. And so enchanting he could barely take his eyes off her.

  Maybe he could make an excuse. Plead a headache, nausea, an inflamed appendix, anything to get out of what he had to do next.

  It wasn’t the physical activity that bothered him. Riding bikes until his legs ached and riding horses until another part of his anatomy ached, he could handle. Ditto the amusement park rides, the white-water rafting, the bungee-jumping and the hot-air balloon ride. In fact, his fear of heights had all but vanished.

  What he was having difficulty dealing with was his growing desire for Gretchen. It was enough to drive a man mad. He’d refilled his well all right. With her.

  The words he’d uttered last Monday, on the start of their adventure, echoed in his ears. Had he actually told her that he felt relaxed with her because they’d taken sex out of the equation? What a crock.

  She was all he could think about: her smile, her laughter, the way the sunlight gleamed in her hair. Her sense of humor, her sense of adventure, her sense of wonder, all were working their way under his skin. She was getting to him in a way no other woman had.

  And he was terrified.

  If he believed in witchcraft, Marco would be quick to embrace the notion that she’d cast a spell on him. She even dominated his dreams. So much so that he would wake in the middle of the night with an aching erection that sent him straight to the shower. Whoever said that a cold shower was a remedy for unrelieved desire didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. Ten minutes under a cold spray did little, other than to send him back to bed, shivering, his erection still throbbing painfully.

  If his landlady wasn’t the death of him, self-denial would probably do the trick.

  What made it all worse was that his current condition was his own fault. He was the one who had insisted on accompanying her on her adventure. If he’d left well enough alone, he wouldn’t be in the fix he was in now.

  And if Gretchen was combating similar feelings for him, he couldn’t see it. For all he knew, this week had successfully killed any attraction she had felt for him.

  Damn her.

  “It’s the last adventure,” he said to the man in the mirror. “You can do it.”

  But what an adventure. They were going to take an unauthorized swim in the community pool. Which meant he would see Gretchen in a bathing suit.

  “You can do it,” he repeated, this time with a lot less conviction.

  He should be looking forward to this because once the swim was over it meant his life would return to normal. He and Gretchen would only cross paths occasionally, the way it had always been.

  But he wasn’t looking forward to this. That was the real reason, not sore muscles, that his movements had been so slow while he was putting on his swimming trunks. Because he and Gretchen would only cross paths occasionally, the way it had always been.

  His doorbell rang. Gretchen. Time for his swim.

  It was a good thing their adventure was ending, Marco told himself. It was the right thing that they wouldn’t be spending any more time together. It was the way it had to be. For both of them.

  Chapter 11

  Gretchen was uncharacteristically subdued. For his part Marco didn’t have much to say, either. They walked side by side, arms swinging loosely, their steps slow and deliberate, neither seemingly in a hurry to arrive at their destination.

  Their footsteps echoed along the empty streets. The warm night air and the darkness cloaked them like a protective shield. Marco glanced over at Gretchen’s shadowed profile and found himself besieged by a series of emotions. Desire. Regret. Loss. Relief. Unaccountable sadness.

  At exactly midnight they approached the six-foot-high chain-link fence surrounding the community pool. As if by unspoken consent, they drew to a halt and stared at it in silence. Compared to the tree, the climb would be nothing. Still, Marco found himself searching for ways to put it off.

  “Well,” he said, trying to sound cheerful, “this is it. Our last adventure.”

  Still eyeing the fence, Gretchen replied, “Yes, it is.”

  “Time sure flew by, didn’t it?”

  “Faster than I ever thought possible.”

  “Going to work tomorrow?”

  “First thing in the morning. You?”

  “First thing.”

  They lapsed into s
ilence again. So much for small talk, Marco thought.

  “It’s been quite a week, hasn’t it?” he said softly.

  Gretchen turned to face Marco then, and he caught his breath. In the moonlight her eyes glimmered, dark and mysterious. They exerted a pull over him, a draw, that was stronger than the force of gravity.

  “It’s been the most wonderful week of my life,” she said.

  There was no denying the sincerity in her voice. Just as there was no denying the pleasure that flooded through him at her words. Marco’s pulse rate soared, and the heat of desire gathered in his chest and radiated outward.

  There was no pretense about her. No artifice. No coyness. That’s what made her so difficult to resist. What might make it impossible for him to ever forget her.

  He was suddenly glad she couldn’t see his face clearly. “It was fun, wasn’t it?”

  She nodded. “I’m going to miss spending time with you.”

  “I’m going to miss spending time with you, too. Maybe if you decide to go on another adventure, you could give me a call.”

  “I just might do that.”

  But he knew she wouldn’t. Beginning just a few hours from now, they would both immerse themselves in the routine of their normal, daily lives, and this week would soon become a distant memory. Marco told himself he welcomed the prospect.

  He did have one question he wanted to ask, before they went their separate ways. “Did you learn anything this week?”

  “So many things, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “Just name a few. Off the top of your head.”

  She seemed to think a minute. “I learned that I could eat cotton candy until it made me sick. I learned what ERA and RBI stand for in baseball. I learned that I have a lot more stamina and athletic ability than I ever thought. And I learned that horseback riding is a lot tougher than it looks.” She paused. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “You’re speaking more in the Dorothy after her adventures in Oz sense. The no-place-like-home sense.”

  “Yes,” he said softly.

  “Then I guess I’d have to say that I learned the biggest lesson of all. It’s not what you do that matters. It’s who you do it with. Truth is, I wouldn’t have had half as much fun this week if you hadn’t been with me.”

  Marco’s heart started galloping faster than a stampeding herd. She shouldn’t say things like that. Because they made him feel things he didn’t want to feel. Things he couldn’t allow himself to feel.

  “What about you, Marco?” Gretchen asked. “Did you learn anything this week?”

  He was grateful for the change in focus. “As a matter of fact, I did. I learned that I don’t laugh nearly enough.”

  Her mouth curved. “We did laugh a lot, didn’t we?”

  That was one of the things he’d miss most, he realized. The banter. And the laughter. She was such fun to be with.

  “That we did.”

  “Laughter is good,” she said.

  “It’s the best medicine,” he agreed.

  “Did you learn anything else?”

  “In the no-place-like-home sense, you mean?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a sudden stillness about her, a piercing regard to the gaze she settled on him, as if she was waiting for something. Though he puzzled over it, Marco couldn’t quite figure out what she wanted him to say.

  “I learned that conquering my fear of heights was a lot easier than I thought it would be and that I waited far too long to do it. I’ll probably try to work on some of my other fears, whenever I have some spare time.”

  Her shoulders slumped. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

  “Anything wrong?” he asked.

  “No. I just thought.. hoped…” She bit her lip and looked away. “Never mind. It’s not important.”

  But it was important. To her. He could tell. Just as he could tell that she didn’t want to discuss the subject further.

  A glance at his watch told him it was getting late. They both had a big day ahead of them tomorrow. They’d put if off long enough. It was time for their swim.

  He looked around to make sure no one was observing them. The edge of the park was to their backs. The few houses he could glimpse in the distance were all silent, their windows black. Not one car had passed while they’d been standing there.

  Nodding at the fence, he asked, “Ready?”

  She drew a breath. “Ready.”

  Stealthily, they climbed the fence and dropped to the other side. For the space of a few heartbeats they waited for the outcry that would announce their illicit entry to the world, but nothing came.

  They were nearest the shallow end of the pool, and the smell of chlorine reached out to greet them. The water shimmered in the moonlight, its surface smooth and unbroken.

  After kicking off her sandals, Gretchen walked to the pool’s edge and sat down, dangling her legs over the side. Marco watched curiously while she shrugged off her ever-present backpack and pulled out a bottle of what looked like champagne and two plastic glasses.

  “Before we go for our swim,” she said, “I’d like to make a toast.” She held out the bottle. “Would you do the honors? I tried not to jostle it too much.”

  Marco kicked off his own sandals and sat down next to her. The champagne bottle was cold to his touch. After wrestling with the cork for a minute or two, he heard a loud pop, followed by the flow of liquid froth over his hand. He poured champagne into both glasses, then handed one to Gretchen.

  She held her glass up, and the liquid and her eyes sparkled in the moonlight. “To new friends,” she said, “and to the end of a wonderful adventure.”

  “Hear, hear,” he replied, his chest feeling tight as he clinked his glass against hers.

  Where their hands touched, the warmth of her skin seared him. When the urge to lean over and taste her grew overpowering, he drained the contents of his glass in one long gulp. Surging to his feet, he dropped his towel, pulled off his shirt and took a few unsteady steps into the welcome coolness of the water.

  He looked over his shoulder and saw Gretchen undoing the buttons on her cover-up. Mentally he steeled himself for the sight of her in a bikini. Much to his relief, however, when the garment hit the concrete, he saw that she was wearing a simple, chaste, one-piece black bathing suit.

  A swimmer’s suit, it covered her from the chest down, flattening her breasts and, other than her long, magnificent legs, leaving her almost sexless. In a strange way Marco didn’t quite understand, that suit was sexier than any bikini would have been. Because there wasn’t any superfluous skin on view, his imagination went into overdrive trying to picture the mysteries hidden from the naked eye.

  His hands fisted at his sides. This midnight swim was going to be more than a test of his physical endurance. His mental resolve was also going to be put through the paces.

  “We better get going,” he said quickly. “Before someone happens along and discovers us.” And before the physical evidence of the effect she had on him was plain for her to see.

  She slipped into the water. “I know it’s been a long week, but are you up for one last race?”

  “I do have the advantage of superior strength,” he told her.

  She smiled. “Perhaps. But maybe, just maybe, I might surprise you. You game?”

  Where was the man who’d been so tired and achy he could barely move? In Gretchen’s presence he felt rejuvenated.

  “After you,” he said.

  She dived cleanly into the water and struck out for the other end of the pool. She was a wonderful swimmer, her kick strong and her stroke fluid, and for a long moment he allowed himself the pleasure of simply watching her. Then before he, like the hare, dawdled too long and lost the race, he dived into the water and swam after her.

  He beat her, but just barely. Gasping for breath, he clung to the side of the pool. Beside him Gretchen treaded water and barely seemed winded.

&
nbsp; “Surprised you, didn’t I?” she said, her voice threaded with amusement.

  “Where’d you learn to swim like that?” he asked. “I thought your parents frowned on physical activity where you were concerned.”

  Resting her elbows on the small ledge that ran around the inside of the pool, she stretched her long legs out in front of her. “The university I attended won’t allow you to graduate unless you can pass a swim test. Freshman year, I ended up in a beginner’s class. I liked it so much, I took every class they offered.”

  “Did you join the swim team?”

  She shook her head. “No time. My father needed me. But, if I wanted to, I could get a job as a lifeguard.”

  “A woman of many talents,” he murmured.

  “I am, aren’t I,” she agreed, before turning her face up to the star-studded sky. “I love the night sky, don’t you? It’s so beautiful and mysterious.”

  She was the one who was beautiful and mysterious, Marco thought as he rested his elbows on the ledge and turned his gaze heavenward.

  “You know what I find amazing?” he said. “Things change so rapidly, down here on earth, but hundreds of years ago our ancestors gazed at these very same stars.”

  “Know what I find amazing?” she replied. “Only five thousand stars can be seen with the naked eye. But use a small telescope, and you can see hundreds of thousands. And you can magnify that number a million times over when you get into the really sophisticated telescopic devices.”

  He stared at her, impressed.

  “When I was ten years old,” she said, “I really got into astronomy. I even studied all the myths surrounding the formation of the stars. Don’t laugh, but one of my recurring daydreams was that, one day, like the gods and goddesses of those Greek myths, I would also be glowing up in the heavens.”

  “You wanted to be a star?” he asked.

  “Most young girls dream of being a star in Hollywood. Me, I wanted to be up in the sky. Silly, isn’t it?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “It was during the time my dad was unemployed.” She sighed. “Since there wasn’t much money for material things, I guess I started wishing for things that money couldn’t buy.”