Breeze off the Ocean (20 page)

“Hank Carlton,” Micki inserted his name.

“Yes.” They had been parked in front of her home for several minutes. Now, stepping out of the car, Wolf finished. “And there you have it. Any questions?”

“Yes,” Micki answered, sliding off the seat. “Several.”

“How about posing them over a cold drink?” he chided softly when she’d stopped short at the door. “All that talking has dried me out.”

Micki stared at him for some moments before, giving in with a short nod, she unlocked the door and went in. Heading for the kitchen, she waved at the living room and murmured, “Make yourself comfortable. What would you like to drink?”

“Plain water,” he called after her. “Two ice cubes.”

When she went into the living room, his drink in one hand, a glass of iced tea for herself in the other, he was sitting on the sofa, long legs stretched out in front of him, his head back, eyes closed. He had removed his jacket and tie and had opened the first three buttons of his shirt and the sheer, masculine sight of him sent a shaft of longing through her that was so intense her hands trembled. His eyes opened at the tinkling sound made by the ice tapping the insides of the glasses. Straightening, he took the glass she extended, patted the cushion beside him, and said, “Light and fire away.”

Micki sat in the very center of the cushion, then stared into her glass to avoid looking into Wolfs amusement-filled eyes.

“How and when did you meet my father?” she blurted suddenly.

“I met him a few months before I met you.” Although Wolfs tone was serious, it held a fine thread of laughter. “He handled the real estate transaction on the property where the motel now stands. He has been involved in every one of our property transactions in this area since then.”

Micki turned wide, astonished eyes to him. ‘The big deal they were celebrating Saturday a week ago, that was yours?”

“The company’s,” he corrected gently. ‘Yes. And the big deal concerned not only another motel in the area, but a condominium in Cape May as well.  Your father, several other realtors, and I had our work cut out for us talking Bianca Perriot out of the land the condo’s going up on. Over six years of work, as a matter of fact.”

“Bianca Perriot?” Micki repeated faintly, a sick feeling invading her stomach.

“You remember, you met her a few weeks ago,” Wolf prompted.

“Yes, of course, a lovely woman.” Micki hesitated, but she had to ask, had to know. “You said over six years ago?”

Nodding, Wolf smiled ruefully. “The property had been in her husband’s family for years. She wasn’t sure if she should let it go.” His tone took on a bitter edge. “She’s the person I had an appointment with the day I brought you home from the boat. She batted all of us back and forth like tennis balls until a few weeks ago. It was motels and condos that brought me into this area in the first place.”

Feeling foolish and stupid for the suspicions she’d harbored about Bianca, Micki was only too glad to change the subject.

“Brought you from where?”

“I was fairly well established in a New York office when I received orders from H.Q. to scout out the possibilities along the south Jersey coast,” Wolf enlightened her. “At first I sent my assistant, whose reports were not very promising. I relayed the reports to H.Q.
and
received in reply just eight words. They were:
If you want a job done right, move.
I moved.”

Unable to believe anyone would dare issue an order like that to him, let alone that he’d meekly obey it, Micki stared at him in wide-eyed wonder.

At the look of shocked incredulity on her face, Wolf threw his head back and roared.

“Oh, honey,” he finally managed between gasps for breath. “I assure you I did—post-haste. When that chair-lady of the board gives an order, people better jump, most especially her sons. Since she took over, she has nearly tripled the company’s combined income. No one argues with her.”

“I see,” Micki said softly, then a trifle fearfully, “and will I be expected to meet this business wizard?”

“Most certainly,” he grinned. “She’s looking forward to it. But don’t let the thought throw you, it’s only her sons she cracks the whip at. Away from the office she’s the most charming woman you could meet and a very understanding mother-in-law to my brothers’ wives.”

‘You said,” Micki rushed in as soon as he’d finished, “she’s looking forward to meeting me. She knows about me?”

“Of course,” Wolf answered easily. “I told her I was getting married when I flew to Miami to fill her in on the latest developments here.” He paused before adding sardonically, “I was gone all last week—in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Micki felt her cheeks grow warm at the piercing look he gave her, and trying to hide her nervousness, she jumped up and asked, “Can I get you another drink?”

“No, thank you.” Wolf’s tone had changed. All business now, he went on briskly. “Sit down, Micki, we have plans to make.”

“What plans?” Micki asked sharply, sitting down on the exact same spot she’d just vacated.

“You know damned well what plans,” Wolf sighed tiredly. “I told your father that everything would be taken care of by the time he and Regina got home and I intend to see that everything is.” His tone went brisk again. “Now we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way, but, either way, it will be done. So, if you have any preferences, let’s hear them.”

“Like what, for instance?”

“Damn it, Micki.” Wolf stood up abruptly, as if having to get away from her, and strode across the room. Turning suddenly, he raked his long-fingered hand through his hair and barked, ‘You know like what. Like do you want a church wedding with all the attendant hoopla, or would you prefer something more simple? If you want a big splash, we have got to get it together. As I understand it, a large wedding takes several months to arrange. Personally I’d just as soon get it over with. The sooner the better.”

Subdued by his outburst, Micki sat silent so long Wolf growled, “For chrissake, Micki, talk to me or I’ll go ahead on my own and make all the arrangements.”

“You seem to forget,” Micki shouted at him. “I don’t want to get married at all.”

Striding back across the room, Wolf bent over her and said harshly, “I haven’t forgotten a thing. Not one single thing. Do you understand?”

Cringing back into the sofa, Micki whispered, “Yes, damn you.” Closing her eyes against the hard glitter in his, she added, “Make any plans you like. It means nothing to me.”

She felt him move closer to her, felt his warm breath whisper over her skin an instant before his mouth covered hers. Steeling herself against an onslaught, she was completely undone by the gentleness of his kiss. His lips explored hers tenderly, coaxing them apart as he sat down beside her and drew her gently into his arms. Determined to remain cold in his arms, Micki groaned with dismay when her mouth, then her body, responded hungrily to his. Bringing her hands up to his chest to push him away, her fingers, as if with a mind of their own, sought his warm skin at the opening of his shirt. She was trembling on the brink of surrender when he lifted his head and whispered, “I think I’ll very much enjoy making you eat your words. But don’t worry about it, I’ll sweeten them for you.”

Shocked into cold reality by his taunt, Micki pushed at his chest. Breathing harshly, she growled, “Get out of here. I don’t want you to touch me or even look at me. You sicken me.”

Anger flared in his eyes before his narrowed lids concealed it. Rising to his feet in a quick, fluid movement, he picked up his jacket and headed for the door tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll call you when the arrangements are completed.”

“Drop dead,” Micki called after him, feeling very childish when she heard his mocking laughter.

Micki heard nothing from him until Friday morning. During the interval she received three post cards from her father and Regina, alternately extolling the beauties of the West Coast and their growing excitement about her marriage.

Wolf’s first words to Micki when she answered the phone Friday morning were, “I’ll pick you up in half an hour. We’re going for the license.”

Three hours later they were back at the house, everything taken care of. They would be married, Wolf had informed her coldly, late Tuesday afternoon. It would be a civil ceremony, no fuss, no bother. Even the witnesses would be impersonal county employees.

Wanting to weep and forcing herself not to, Micki held her head high and snapped, ‘That’s fine with me,” and walked into the house, forcing herself not to run.

Panic built steadily during the rest of that day and all day Saturday. Sunday brought relief in the form of her father and Regina’s return, and chagrin in the form of Wolf’s arrival at the house soon afterward.

For several hours Micki managed to avoid speaking directly to Wolf. Intent on keeping her father and Regina talking, she coaxed an almost hour-by-hour description of their activities from them. Finally, unable to pull one more question from her mind, Micki grew silent and tense.

“Now that my inquisitive offspring has apparently run down,” Bruce laughed teasingly, “perhaps one of you will answer a few questions for me.”

Leaving Wolf to the answering, Micki went to the sink to make a pot of fresh coffee, and as it was already past dinnertime, to prepare a light supper of salad and sandwiches.

Both Bruce and Regina voiced protest at the meager wedding plans. Wolf listened to all their arguments patiently but remained adamant in his resolve to go through with them as stated. The shuffling around as Micki served the hastily put together meal ended the argument. By the time Wolf left, Bruce and Regina had resigned themselves to the inevitable.

Monday morning, Labor Day, Micki stared out her bedroom window at the bright, hot day, and wished she’d accepted Cindy’s invitation to join them for a barbecue. Sighing at the memory of Cindy’s excitement on hearing that Micki was getting married, she turned listlessly when Regina entered the room.

“We have really got to talk now, Micki,” Regina said nervously, “about Wolf, and what happened six years ago.”

“I don’t see what good—”

“Maybe none,” Regina interrupted, closing the door. “I’m afraid I made a bad error in judgment that day.”

“Error in judgment?” Micki repeated blankly. “In what way?”

“In the depth of your feelings for Wolf. I thought you an immature teenager infatuated with an older, exciting man. And it wasn’t like that, was it? You were very much in love.” Without waiting for Micki to comment she went on. “You still are.”

“Am I?” Micki asked carelessly.

“Your cool facade doesn’t fool me, Micki,” Regina chided. “I’ve watched you ever since you came home. As much as you try to hide it, you light up at the mere mention of his name.”

“Why are you doing this, Regina?” Micki whispered.

“Because I must,” she answered tightly. “Because I can’t let you marry him thinking there had been something between us. There wasn’t.”

Micki went cold. Then she got hot, blazingly hot.

“Then why did you infer that there was?” Micki asked bitingly. “What was the purpose?”

“I thought I was protecting you,” Regina explained. At the look of disgusted disbelief that crossed Micki’s face, Regina insisted. “I truly was, Micki. Wolf had been involved with several women that I knew of. But they were mature women able to take care of themselves. You were only nineteen, and when I saw that mark on your neck—” Regina shrugged. “I just felt I had to do something to keep you from getting hurt.”

“But I heard you talking to him on the phone,” Micki argued.

“On the phone?” Regina looked blank, then confused. “But as far as I can remember, all we talked about was real estate. I had gone to New York with your father against Wolf’s advice, and he as much as said I told you so. He had stayed to talk to Bi—”

“I know,” Micki cut in weakly.

Later, after Regina left, Micki paced her room like a caged tiger. Six years! The words hammered in her brain. She had run away for nothing! What a fool she’d been! What a child! All this time she could have been with him. That thought brought her to a standstill. But could she? Wolf had had, did have, a reputation with women. How long would she have lasted before he shipped her out of his life? But she had been carrying his child. That he would have wanted. That he still wanted. And that, she thought sadly, was all he wanted.

Even so, she faced Tuesday morning with hope. Wolf had said she could have her freedom after she’d produced a child, but maybe, just maybe, she could make him change his mind. She loved him. She had to try and make him love her too.

Pale-faced and trembling in her off-white shantung sheath, Micki stood beside an Arman-clad Wolf and repeated the traditional vows.

The one concession her father had won from Wolf was that he and Regina would take Micki and Wolf for dinner after the ceremony. He chose a well-known restaurant in Wildwood where, over bright red lobsters, he solemnly lifted his glass of champagne and wished them happiness. Wolf was pleasant and amusing and Micki was trembling with nervousness.

The dinner seemed unending but finally it was over. Her stomach churning, Micki added very little to the banter that flew back and forth between Wolf and her father and Regina as they drove back up the coast.

They were met at the motel by the manager, who wished them smiling congratulations, and a grinning good night Wolf was quiet as they walked up the stairs and along the hall, so quiet Micki felt all her nerves tighten. The minute he closed the door, she made for the window like a homing pigeon.

“Would you like something to drink?” Wolf’s voice came to her from the direction of the kitchen.

She had eaten very little all day, had barely touched her dinner, and had had three glasses of champagne but she said, “Whatever you’re having,” hoping it would calm her nervousness. She turned as he strolled into the room, a glass in each hand.

“That’s a fantastic view,” she murmured breathlessly, taking the glass he extended.

“There’s one exactly like it in the bedroom,” Wolf drawled softly, his eyes lingering on her lips.

Suddenly parched, Micki lifted her glass and drank thirstily, then, her throat on fire, her eyes smarting, she gasped, “What is that?”