Breeze off the Ocean (18 page)

The damp cloth stopped moving and stirring restlessly she pleaded, “Don’t stop.”

“What abortion?” There was an odd, breathless quality to Wolf’s husky tone that confused her already fuzzy mind. “When?”

She’d forgotten the question, and moving her head from side to side, she frowned and murmured, “What?”

“Your abortion, Micki,” Wolf urged, his voice sounding strange. “When did you have it?”

The mistiness was clearing now, and opening her eyes, Micki stared in confusion into Wolf’s pale face. He looked strained, with white shadowy lines around his mouth.

“When, Micki?” The tone of his voice flicked at her like a lash.

“While I was still in college,” she answered honestly, actually afraid to lie to him. “Six years ago.”

“Six years ago?”

The question emerged softly through lips that barely moved. Wolf was absolutely still for long, frightening moments then, his hands grasping her arms painfully, he pulled her to her feet to face him.

“You got rid of my baby?” he whispered hoarsely. When she didn’t answer at once, he began to shake her hard. Fear closed her throat, making it almost impossible for her to answer. Feeling the faintness closing in on her again, she forced two words past the fear.

“Wolf, please.”

He didn’t even hear her. His face a terrifying mask of rage, he shook her harder and shouted, “You killed my baby?”

With a low moan Micki welcomed the blackness that covered her mind, blanking out the harsh sound of Wolf’s voice.

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying on her bed. Wolf was sitting on its edge bending over her, his silvery eyes cold and blank. The expression of contempt on his face sent a shudder rippling through her and she began to shake. When he moved, her heart thumped wildly, and when his hands again grasped her arms, she brought her palms up against his chest, pleaded, “Wolf, please.”

Before he could speak or even move, there was a loud exclamation from the doorway.

“Micki, Wolf!” Bruce said sharply. “What in the hell’s going on here?”

Micki froze, her mind, her whole body seemingly turned to stone. His face becoming amazingly calm, Wolf released her and stood up with an easiness that was contradicted by the tenseness she could feel in him.

“Not what you apparently think,” he replied smoothly. “Micki fainted.”

Bruce obviously didn’t believe Wolf, for he snapped, “You have no right in Micki’s room.”

“Not yet,” Wolf returned. “But I will have very soon. Micki and I are going to be married.”

“No!”

“Married!”

Micki’s choked whisper went unheard, covered as it was by her father’s loud exclamation.

“Yes.” Wolf’s flat tone held a ring of finality and the icy silver glance he threw at her told her he’d listen to nothing from her.

Panic-stricken, Micki moved to get up to run to her father for protection, but the look of delight on his face stopped her.

“Wolf, that’s great news.” Smiling broadly, hand extended, Bruce walked to Wolf and clasped his hand warmly. “I couldn’t be more pleased.” Losing its brightness, his smile turned rueful. “I must admit that, for a minute there, I thought you—”

“We
have
been lovers, Bruce.” Wolf’s cool tone sliced across Bruce’s words.

In shocked disbelief Micki’s eyes darted from Wolf to her father, who looked, for a moment, like a time bomb ready to go off. A muscle in his jaw twitched from the pressure of his clenched teeth. Was Wolf crazy? What had possessed him to say such a thing? Trying to ward off the fight she felt sure was coming, Micki rushed into speech.

“Dad, let me explain.” Micki scrambled off the bed and ran to her father, placing a detaining hand on the bunched-up muscle in his arm. “It happened—” That was as far as she got.

“It happened,” Wolf repeated her words with cold finality, “because we both wanted it to happen.” Ignoring her gasp, he stared coolly into Bruce’s furious eyes. “Cool off, Bruce. So, okay, we didn’t wait for the words, the ring, the document” He paused, then underlined, “Did you?”

The question caught Micki by surprise and in unwilling curiosity she glanced at her father’s face.

“No.”

Even though the light of battle had gone out of Bruce’s eyes and Micki could feel the tension easing in his arm, Bruce had not given the answer. The softly spoken word had come from Regina who stood, until now unnoticed, in the doorway. Bruce turned his head to gaze for several seconds into his wife’s composed face then, turning back to Wolf, Bruce echoed honestly, “No, we didn’t wait.”

“I
am going
to marry her, Bruce.”

Wolf’s statement, delivered with what Micki thought was overbearing confidence, vanquished what was left of her father’s anger while at the same time igniting her own. Before she could voice her protest however, her father again clasped Wolf’s hand.

“You’ve made your point, Wolf. I’m sorry if I came on a little heavily as the outraged father, but Micki’s my only child and very important to me.”

“I understand.” Wolf accepted his surrender gracefully. “I’ll take very good care of her, Bruce.”

Feeling invisible, anger seethed inside Micki. Wasn’t she going to be allowed to speak at all? Apparently not, for before she could open her mouth, Regina suggested from the doorway, “We still have that bottle of champagne we were saving for a special occasion, Bruce. Don’t you think this is the time to open it?”

“The perfect time,” Bruce agreed, grinning broadly. “What are we standing here for? Let’s go crack it open.” He turned, began walking to the doorway, then, as if in afterthought, glanced back at Micki. “You feel all right now, honey?”

She wasn’t even allowed to hand out her own health reports, for Wolf answered for her.

“She’s fine now. I think the excitement got to her.”

Excitement! You fatuous jerk,
Micki thought furiously,
I’ll excitement you
.
 Frustrated
anger searing her throat, Micki watched her father drape his arm around Regina’s shoulders as he left the room. The moment they were out of hearing she turned on Wolf.

“Have you gone mad?” Incensed, she spat the words at him. “I wouldn’t marry you if I was ugly as sin and desperate. And, as you got yourself into this, you can damned well get yourself out of it.  I’m going down there and stop them before they open that stupid bottle.”

She spun away from him only to be spun right back again forcefully. Wolfs hand grasping her upper arm held her still. His voice, cold as ice, sent a chill skipping down her spine.

“No, you’re not.” His eyes bored into hers like steel drill bits. “You are going down there with me and accept their toast, and, as soon as they are back from the coast, you are going to marry me. You owe me.”

“I owe you!” In her astonishment at his charge Micki missed the menace in his tone. “I owe you nothing.”

“You owe me,” he repeated coldly. “One child. When you produce that child, you may have your freedom.”

Eyes widening in disbelief, Micki stared at him. He isn’t mad, she thought wildly, he’s a raving maniac. Fighting to control the renewed panic in her voice, she sneered, “You have got to be kidding. There is no way I’d share a child with you.”

“I didn’t say share it,” Wolf sneered back. “I said produce it. You got rid of my baby,” he added crudely, “and you’re going to damn well replace it.”

“But that was six years ago!” Micki cried, not even attempting to correct him about how the child was lost.

“I don’t give a damn if it was a hundred and six years ago. You’re going to give me my child, my legitimate child. So stop arguing and let’s go down and join the celebration.” He started toward the door, dragging her with him. Before stepping through the doorway he paused, cocking one eyebrow at her. “Unless, of course, you want me to give your father—in minute detail—a blow-by-blow description of the weekend we spent together?” Again he paused before adding silkily, “And exactly how old you were at the time? You have”—he glanced at his watch unconcernedly—”fifteen seconds to decide.”

A picture of her father’s outraged expression of a few minutes ago followed by the fury he’d displayed about her being in Tony’s apartment flashed through Micki’s mind. Decide? What was to decide? She knew positively that should Wolf tell her father about that weekend their relationship would be irreparably damaged. Oh, he would not stop loving her, but he would never trust her again. The taste of defeat burning bitterly in her throat, she lashed out at him unthinkingly,
“You
rotten son-of-a—”

“Watch it.” Wolfs warning, though soft, silenced her. Releasing her, he strode out of the room and along the hall. For one rebellious second Micki hesitated, then, hating herself, she hurried after him.

Wolf stayed long after the last drops of wine had been drained from the bottle. Stretched out lazily on a chair in the living room as if he belonged there, he smilingly lied through his teeth to her father and Regina.

“Yes, he had been seeing Micki for some time, he assured them. And yes, they were both sure they did not want a large wedding. And no, unfortunately, they would not be able to get away on a honeymoon trip at this time, as, he was sure, Bruce and Regina could fully understand.

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.