Tomorrow's Promise

by Sandra Brown

  "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm in a foul mood and I shouldn't take it out on you."

  Nicole hitched her shapely hip over the corner of the disc jockey's desk, upsetting the picture of Cindy. "You certainly shouldn't. To look at you one would think I was your last friend, so you'd better treat me nice." She crossed her arms over her generous breasts and eyed her friend speculatively. "I'm dying of curiosity, you know. When are you going to break down end tell me?"

  "Tell you what?" Keely asked innocently and found a thread on her cuff that required her undivided attention.

  "Tell me why you've been dragging around here like a damn zombie since you got back from Washington last week. Tell me why you look like bell, and why you won't confide in your best friend about something that's obviously upset you."

  "Is that a new pair of earrings?"

  "Don't you dare try to get me off the subject, Keely Preston," Nicole warned. "I want to know what happened to you up there that made you even worse off than you were before. And God knows that was bad enough. So lay it on me. I'm not leaving this room and neither are you until you tell me."

  "Who set you up as judge of how bad off I am?" Keely asked crossly.

  "I did, since you apparently need a keeper to prevent you from closing a shell around yourself like a damn clam or something. What gives, Keely?"

  Keely took the few steps back to her desk and flopped down in the creaking chair. She leaned her head on the cracked imitation leather and closed her eyes against the perpetual headache she couldn't seem to shake. "You know what gives, Nicole. You yourself said I'm this way every time I do something for PROOF."

  "Yes, but you scored a great victory this time. You should be happy instead of miserable. And don't deny that you're miserable, because I know better. You make Hamlet look like a comedian."

  Keely smiled, but the attempt didn't quite make it to a full-fledged laugh. "I am happy about what we accomplished. I'm just tired."

  "Try again."

  "I don't want to be around people just now, that's all." I met a man, a wonderful man. He kissed me, touched me, like no other man ever has. I think I've fallen in love. What am I going to do about it? What would Nicole's reaction be if Keely said aloud what she was thinking?

  "That won't do, Keely. You need to be with people. Come on and go to this reception with us tonight. We won't stay long, I promise. When you say it's time to leave, it'll be time to leave."

  "I don't want to."

  "But you need to, dammit!" Nicole said in exasperation. "Dress up. Have a drink or two. Dance. Live, Keely." She jumped off the desk and dug her fists into her hips; "If you don't come with us, I'll have to endure Charles all by myself. You wouldn't wish that on me, would you?"

  Keely did laugh then. "Why don't you give that guy a break? I know you're crazy about him and just won't admit it. All right, all right." She put up her hands to ward off Nicole's objections. "You wouldn't be with Charles by yourself. You said you had a spare man."

  "We do. And frankly, he's as dull as Charles. If I can stand it, you can. The point is you'll be in a public place instead of holed up at home and you'll be in the company of other human beings instead of by yourself. Come on."

  "Where is it and what is it?" Keely asked in resignation.

  "It's at the Marriott. Formal. Something for the Arts League. Charles is going to represent the television station since it's airing public-service announcements for the League. We'll pick you up at eight."

  "I don't know, Nicole," Keely demurred.

  "Eight o'clock," Nicole said firmly. "And for God's sake, do something with your hair. I hate it all slicked back like that. You look like Jane Eyre."

  "You're certainly literary this morning. First Hamlet, now Jane Eyre. Have you read either one?"

  Nicole laughed good-naturedly as she sashayed toward the door. "Heavens, no. I only read porn. Keeps me in practice." She winked wickedly before the door closed behind her. Then Keely heard her call from halfway down the hall, "Eight o'clock."

  Eight o'clock. Would she feel up to facing the world by then? She doubted it. She hadn't felt like facing it so far. Erroneously she had thought that once she got away from Washington and back to work, memories of Dax would soon fade and she would forget all that had happened. It wasn't to be. The longer she was away from him, the larger he loomed in her mind. Every minute of the day she wondered what he was doing, whom he was with, what he was wearing, what he was feeling, if he thought of her.

  It was wrong. It was insane to perpetuate an impossible dream, but she couldn't help herself. She stared often at the telephone, willing it to ring. In some secret corner of her mind she had thought – wished – that he would call. After all, she wasn't on his flight as she should have been. Hadn't he been the least bit concerned about what had happened to her? Of course, if he had been in New Orleans the past few days, he would have heard her on the radio and known she was at least alive.

  Apparently his disinterest indicated what he felt about their interlude in Washington. It had been just that, an interlude. A disappointing one for him, she was sure, since she hadn't "come across." Dax Devereaux didn't have to fool with a woman like her, since many were far too willing to accommodate him.

  Nicole was right. She was at a dead-end street and she must turned around and go in a different direction or keep running into the wall. Tonight she would make an effort to return to the world of the living.

  Checking her watch, she noted that she was due at a sponsor's meeting and she hadn't even read through the agenda.

  Taking a compact out of her purse, she grimly admitted that Nicole was right. She did look like hell. Her complexion was sallow, her eyes lackluster, her hair a disgrace. She hadn't done her nails since her return from Washington.

  "Okay, Keely, you've mourned long enough," she said to her reflection before snapping the compact shut. Before reading the copy for her commercial about the virtues of a steel-belted radial tire, she telephoned a beauty salon and made an appointment for the works.

  * * *

  Not bad, she thought critically as she looked at the results of her two hours in the salon and another hour spent at home on personal grooming. She had had a half inch taken off the bottom of her hair, getting rid of the cursed split ends. It had been arranged in a casual top knot, soft but sophisticated, with tendrils grazing her cheeks and nape.

  She had put an oatmeal mask on her face, and now her complexion was glowing radiantly. She had am plied her makeup tastefully and well, and if that sad look in her eyes wasn't completely gone, it was somewhat screened.

  When the doorbell rang, she picked up her evening purse, swung her black satin cape over her shoulders, and went to meet her "date."

  As Nicole had said, he wasn't very exciting, but he politely introduced himself as Roger Patterson as he escorted her down her brick sidewalk to the car waiting at the curb. He was the liaison between the Arts League and the media. Keely thought he had chosen his profession unwisely, for he was a self-effacing type that one would forget five minutes after meeting him.

  He held the door of Charles's Mercedes open, and she settled in the back seat. "You look sensational," Nicole enthused.

  "How do you know?" Keely asked cryptically. "You haven't even seen me yet."

  "You had only one way to go. Unless you had died."

  "You do look lovely, Keely," Charles Hepburn spoke to her via the rearview mirror.

  "Hello, Charles. How are you?"

  "I'm well, thank you."

  "Did you meet Randy?" Nicole asked, turning around to them from her position beside Charles in the front seat.

  "Roger," he corrected quietly.

  "Oh. I'm sorry."

  "Yes, we met," Keely said quickly and gave her date an easy smile.

  Keely's house was actually a duplex carved out of an old house in the Garden District, The area was known for its lovely homes, some of them previously neglected, now being restored and converted from enormous one-family dwellings to apart
ments and condos.

  Charles drove them up St. Charles Avenue to Canal and then toward the Mississippi River to the Marriott. He left his car with the valet service. They entered the hotel by the side door and traversed the sprawling lobby crowded with tuxedoed men and formally attired women. "I think the receptionist is up on the third floor in one of the ballrooms," Roger said unnecessarily since there were signs to that effect posted throughout the lobby on brass easels.

  "Oh, I love affairs like this. But then I love affairs of any kind," Nicole said naughtily. She was actively taking note of who was there and what they were wearing and whom they were with.

  They were walking toward the escalator past the open bar when Nicole exclaimed, "Madeline Robins is wearing her famous diamonds, I see. They really look tacky with that dress. Who is she— Oh, it's Dax Devereaux. Look, Keely. You met him, didn't you?"

  Keely's heart had dropped to the floor and she had stumbled over it. Roger put a tentative hand under her elbow when her footsteps faltered. She looked in the direction of Nicole's gaze and her breath lodged in her throat when she saw the shining black hair, delicately sprinkled with silver at the temples, and knew that it could only belong to one man.

  Even as she spotted him, Dax leaned back to laugh at some amusing remark the stunning woman next to him had said, and his black eyes lighted on Keely. His reaction at seeing her was as volatile as hers at seeing him. His grin fell, and the flash of white teeth disappeared. He looked as if he had been struck a physical blow and couldn't quite believe it.

  "Are you going to speak to him, Keely?" Nicole asked expectantly.

  "N-no." Keely stuttered, looking away from him hastily. "He's with a group. Perhaps I'll see him later. I barely know him, after all. He probably doesn't even remember meeting me."

  Nicole's look frankly said, Liar. But she didn't pursue the matter as they rode up the escalator. Under the pretense of straightening her cape, Keely glanced over her shoulder down onto the lobby below and her eyes locked with Dax's as he watched her progress up the conveyor.

  She forced herself to turn away and join the others' chatter as they rode up to the third floor. At the coat check she allowed Roger to slide the cape from her shoulders and disappear with it into the throng of men who were doing likewise.

  Charles gasped when he took Nicole's fox coat from around her. "Your eyes are buggin' out, Charles," she teased. Indeed, she wore an eye-popping dress. It was black georgette. The long sleeves were slit from cuff to shoulder, and the neckline was slit from neck to waist. It intimated more than it revealed, but the effect was startling. As always she looked gorgeous.

  Though she didn't realize it, Keely looked just as stunning. Her black taffeta tulip skirt, called that for its rounded hem that became a slit to just above her knees, provided an enticing view of her legs. The cerise blouse was moderately plunging and fitted her bosom and waist like a second skin, but the ruffled collar that stood against the back of her neck and the soft peplum at the top of her hips kept it from feeling sexy. Her black satin sandals were by Jourdan and had a thin line of rhinestones around her ankles in lieu of a strap.

  "Listen to that heavenly music," Nicole said, undulating in rhythm to the orchestra's dance music. "Come on, Charles, and dance with me."

  He glanced worriedly at her breasts swaying unrestrained under the sheer fabric and said, "All right, but if you get carried away and come out of that dress, I'm taking you home."

  "And then what?" she asked invitingly as she dragged him onto the dance floor.

  Keely laughed. She liked Charles Hepburn and knew that he was in love with Nicole. He was older, at least forty-five, but his receding hairline inspired confidence. His body was perfectly maintained by daily workouts in a downtown gym. His small frame was wiry and bespoke a strength that would have done a much younger man proud. He was mild mannered and courteous to a fault. Keely sometimes thought Nicole would treat him better if he'd lash back at her just once, but his patience imitated Job's.

  No matter how many times Nicole vehemently denied it, Keely thought she cared more for Charles than she was willing to admit. Perhaps his serious, mature nature frightened her seemingly carefree friend. As Keely watched them dancing, she was convinced more than ever that whatever their feelings for each other were, they ran deep. Nicole was brushing herself against Charles and smiling in a way he couldn't resist. His hand stroked her back. Keely wished they would stop fooling themselves and each other and admit their mutual affection.

  "Would you like to dance?" Roger interrupted her reverie hesitantly. She had almost forgotten him.

  "I don't think so right now. Maybe later. I would like something to drink." She wasn't much of a drinker, but seeing Dax, especially with Madeline Robins, had upset her more than she wanted to give credence to.

  "Yes, of course." Roger seemed relieved to be of some use to someone. "What would you like?"

  "Something cool. A vodka collins?"

  "Vodka collins. I'll be right back." He wove his way through the crowd and was soon swallowed up by it. Feeling self-conscious at being left alone, Keely located a table with four vacant chairs and claimed it for them. She signaled to Nicole and Charles as the dance finished and they left the floor.

  Settled with drinks, they passed the first hour of the reception in easy companionship. People they knew stopped by frequently to chat. Ones they didn't know came by to meet and be met. She knew Nicole was a celebrity, but it never ceased to amaze her that people thought of her in that light too. Often when she was introduced and the person put her face with the familiar voice on the radio, they became tongue-tied and effusive.

  Society's stars were out. A few of the New Orleans Saints were there; several celebrities who were performing in town had been invited to attend the fund-raising function. It was a glamorous crowd, exciting. The food on the buffet tables was sumptuous. The dance music couldn't have been surpassed.

  And Keely was ready to leave within a few minutes of her arrival.

  Miserably she had noticed that the table Dax and Madeline shared with three other couples wasn't far from where she was sitting. She was forced to watch his attention on the other woman. He got her drinks. She ate off his plate and he playfully slapped her hands away. She kissed his cheek. He helped her find a lost earring. They danced. They whispered. He kissed her lightly on the mouth.

  Keely excused herself and found the ladies' lounge, staying in there an inordinate amount of time. When she came back, Nicole and Charles had disappeared and she saw Roger on the other side of the huge room chatting with the symphony conductor. She took a sip of her watery drink to give her hands something to do.

  "Do you get your jollies by standing up men in airports?"

  The slippery glass, beaded with condensation, nearly fell through her fingers. She set it down on the tablecloth and turned her head to see Dax leaning over her with both hands braced on the back of her chair.

  "No. I wasn't in a very jolly mood that day."

  "I was. Until I got to the airport, on the airplane, waiting for you, and not knowing what in the hell had happened to you."

  She lowered her eyes from his accusing ones. "I'm sorry."

  "Then dance with me."

  "Where's Madeline?" she asked cattily.

  "Do you care?"

  "Don't you?"

  He only shrugged and took her hand to pull her to her feet. Since she had been seen dancing with Roger and Charles and several others, it wouldn't look all that strange for her to dance with the congressman, would it?

  His touch burned her skin and she couldn't have stopped herself from being drawn into his arms under the penalty of death. The song was a slow, love ballad. The strains of the music surrounded them. The lights were appropriately dimmed. His hand was on her back, pressing, caressing without even moving. His mouth was against her hair.

  "Do you know what I'd like to be doing?"

  She shook her head.

  "Nibbling your rhinestones."

  I
t took her a moment to realize what rhinestones he was referring to. The only ones she had were the ones around her ankles. She laughed breathlessly. "Shame on you."

  "Those are without a doubt the sexiest shoes I've ever seen. I might develop a real shoe and foot fetish and became a dyed-in-the-wool pervert."

  She looked up at him in mock dismay. "What! And ruin your political career?"

  "Or enhance it." He laughed and pressed her head back against his shoulder. "Sexual fantasies are 'in' now, you know. Lately I've become an expert at them. Want to hear some?"

  "No. I'd be too embarrassed."

  He tilted his head to look down at her. "You probably would be," he whispered. "You play a very active role in them."

  "Dax, you shouldn't talk to me this way."

  "All right, I'm sorry," he said, then belied his contrition by expanding his chest and flattening her breasts against him. He executed a flawless turn, giving him an excuse to splay his hand on her back and bring her closer. "Is it okay to tell you how beautiful you look tonight?"

  She lowered her eyes, only to raise them again. She couldn't keep from looking at him. It was a constant internal war. For every time she looked at him, it necessitated raising her head from his shoulder. "Yes, and thank you. You look very distinguished in your tuxedo too. It suits you."

  "Who's the man?" he asked abruptly, adroitly dancing them to the darkest corner of the floor.

  "What?"

  "The man you're with. Is he someone I ought to start hating?"

  She colored with pleasure at his jealousy. "No. I only met him tonight. I really came with Nicole and Charles."

  "Good." He smiled and she returned it. His arm tightened around her, but no one would have noticed unless they saw the melting expression in each of their eyes.

  She pitied every other woman in the room for not knowing what it was like to be held in Dax's arms. The hard pressure of his thighs sent an exquisite thrill up her own as they rubbed together. In the hand held by his she felt the hypnotizing massage of his thumb in her palm. His breath was hot and fragrant on her face and she barely restrained herself from gulping in great amounts of it to fill her own lungs.