Breeze off the Ocean (4 page)

“Wonderful.” Micki stared entranced at the view of the beach and sun-sparkled ocean the deck afforded. “Oh, Cindy,” she breathed softly, “this place was worth almost any amount of money, just for the view.”

“I know—it’s super.” Cindy laughed. “Benny and I have breakfast out here every nice morning.”

“How is Benny?” Micki asked belatedly. “And how does he feel about becoming a father?”

“He’s fine.” Cindy smiled softly. “And he’s so excited about the baby he can hardly wait.” The smile grew into a grin. “We were shopping last week and would you believe I had to drag him out of the sports department? He wanted to buy the baby a football, for heaven’s sake.”

“Knowing Benny, I can believe it.” Micki grinned back. “Do you think most men get a little soft in the head about their first child?”

Micki didn’t even hear Cindy’s answer, for suddenly she felt like a large hand was squeezing all the air from her chest. Dear God, why did the most innocent remarks still have the power to hurt her like this?

Cindy laughed and pulling herself together, Micki managed to laugh with her. The sudden explosion of air eased the constriction of her lungs, and as the conversation switched to the more immediate subject of lunch, Micki felt her emotional gear shift back into normal.

By the time they had finished their melon and gone on to small salads and cold chicken sandwiches Micki was glad she’d decided on a spaghetti-strapped sundress that morning. The July sun was brassy in a cloud-free blue sky. Even with the sea breeze wafting under the awning, by one o’clock the heat drove them indoors.

By the time Cindy had filled Micki in on the comings and goings of their friends and Micki had imparted her own news about her job and her plans to make her home permanently in Ocean City, most of the afternoon was gone.

After agreeing to have dinner with Cindy and Benny one evening, Micki left, cautioning Cindy to get plenty of rest to combat the enervating effects of the heat.

Driving through the shimmering heat waves that rose from the street, Micki reflected on what Cindy had told her about their mutual friends. They had really scattered—one as far away as Alaska. But Tony Menella was back. After finishing college, he had gone to work for a large advertising firm in Trenton, but a little over a year ago he’d packed it in and come home. He was working in Atlantic City, but he was living in Ocean City, much the same as Micki herself would now be doing.

Into her own thoughts, she stopped at an intersection when a car cut in front of her and, glancing up, let her gaze skim over the area. Idly she studied a new motel on the opposite corner. Very classy, she was thinking when she was startled alert by the opening of her passenger side door.

“What in the—!” Micki began, head swinging around. The words shriveled on her lips as she saw a long, lean frame settle into the seat next to her and felt the impact of the odd, silver-gray eyes of Wolf Renninger.

“It’s safe to drive on now.”

The soft, taunting words broke through the shock gripping her mind and by reflex Micki started the car.

Her mental process was set into motion at the same time. Anger searing her mind, she glanced around sharply for a parking space. She wasn’t hauling his carcass anywhere.

“Pull into this lot here.” The taunting edge to his tone was more pronounced, as if he’d read her thoughts and was amused by them.

Gritting her teeth, Micki glanced in the direction he’d indicated and saw it was the parking lot belonging to the motel she’d been looking at.

“But I can’t park on that lot it’s—”

“It’s all right,” Wolf interrupted, “I work there.”

Angrily Micki spun the wheel and drove the car onto the lot, following his terse directions to a section marked EMPLOYEES PARKING—PRIVATE. The moment the car was stationary Micki turned to face him, blue eyes shooting bright sparks of anger.

“Now just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Hello, Micki.” Wolfs soft voice laughed at her. “It’s been a long time.”

“Not nearly long enough,” Micki snapped acidly. “Why did you get into the car? What do you want?”

The smile that curved his sometimes hard, always sensuous lips sent a shiver racing along Micki’s spine and she gripped the steering wheel to keep her hands from trembling.

“I want to talk to you,” Wolf replied smoothly. “And look at you.”

“You’ve had your look,” she said sharply. It was true. From the minute he’d entered the car his eyes had clung to her face like a beauty mask and it was making her very edgy. “So talk.”

“Not here, it’s too hot and I’d hate to see you melt all over the upholstery.” That unnerving smile touched his mouth briefly. “Come with me, I have an apartment in the complex.” The taunting laugh came back into his tone. “Or are you afraid?”

“Afraid of you?” Micki knew it was foolish to accept his challenge, but she also knew she had to prove something to him—and herself. Swinging open her car door with a flourish, she quipped, “Lead the way to your lair, Wolf. Or is it den?”

His soft laughter did strange things to her equilibrium, and for that reason only she allowed him the liberty of taking her arm.

He led her through a side entrance into the motel lobby, which was lavishly decorated in a south-seas motif, past the curious stares of the two men behind the reception desk, and up the curving stairway. As she mounted the last step, Micki barely had time to register the fact that the stairs opened onto what appeared to be a short crosswalk that connected two sections of the motel for, without pausing, Wolf turned right along the short crosswalk to where it connected with a long hallway. At the junction he turned left and strode along the hallway to the very end. The only difference between the door he unlocked and all the others that faced each other along the hall was the absence of a number.

The door opened into a fair-sized living room, but what caught Micki’s attention, and her breath, was a large picture window on the far wall. From that height the window gave a panoramic view of beachfront and ocean. Without a word Micki entered the deliciously cool room and crossed the plush bronze carpeting to stare out the window. Micki was not unlike numerous other people as to the hypnotic effect the movement of the ocean had on the emotions. But Wolf’s quiet voice jerked her out of her mesmeric state.

“Would you like a drink?”

The arched look she threw him drew his soft mocking laughter.

“A soft drink?” he chided. “Iced tea? Perrier?”

“Do you have lime?”

“Yes.”

“Perrier with lime then, please.”

Micki watched him as he went around the waist-high wooden bookshelves that divided the living room from the kitchen. While he went about the business of getting the drinks, she made a quick inventory of him. He had changed, matured, as she had herself and the change was heart stopping. He had been good-looking at thirty. Now, at thirty-six, life had left its stamp on him.

The square, determined jawline now proclaimed iron control. His golden tan skin stretched shiny and smooth over his long straight nose, his high cheekbones, and the angular planes of his face. The silver-gray eyes, arched over by thick, dark brows, now held a calculating sharpness. He wore his dark brown hair short in back, but its wavy thickness was completely intact. And his six-foot-plus frame, never thick, had pared down to the lean, sinewy look of the predator whose name he bore. One would not call him merely good-looking now. There were any number of adjectives one might apply, ranging from devastating to dangerous. One might even add slightly cruel-looking, but never merely good-looking.

Micki caught herself following his every move, a breathless sort of excitement clutching her throat at the sheer masculine look of him.
Don’t be an idiot,
she told herself harshly.
Play it cool. Play it safe. He’s trouble, pure unadulterated trouble, and no one knows it better than you.

Casting her eyes away in search of something more worthy of her appraisal, she fastened on the living room. Masculine to the point of Spartan, Micki was surprised to find she really liked the effect the warm earth tones of bronze, brown, and gold, with a splash of green here and there  that lent contrasting  color to the room. He probably didn’t have a thing to do with the decor, she decided disparagingly.
I’ll bet every room in the motel is decorated in the same way.

“Like it?”

His quiet voice, startlingly close to her ear, made her jump. His next words brought a tinge of pink to her cheeks. “I decorated it myself.” He cocked his head to one side as his eyes roamed the room. “Personally, I think I did a damned good job.”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s perfectly suitable”—Micki waved her hand carelessly—”for a man.”

“You’ve grown up.” The simple statement was issued as he handed her a drink. “Grown more beautiful too.” The rider was accompanied by that disquieting, sensuous smile. He lifted his glass to her in a mock salute and Micki’s brows arched at the amber-colored liquid it contained.

“A little too hot for the hard stuff in the middle of the day, isn’t it?” she asked bitingly.

“I’ve yet to be flattened by a single glass of bourbon and water.” His silvery eyes roamed insolently over her face and body. “It takes something a little more heady to put me flat.”

She was perfectly well aware of what that something was. A warm female body, any warm female body. She lifted her chin and stared him straight in the eye. “You said you wanted to talk to me,” she enunciated clearly. “What about? “

“About how you are.” Wolfs voice had dropped an octave. He moved closer to her and she didn’t like having to tilt her head back to look up into his face. His voice went lower.

“About what you’ve been doing.”

“I’m fine.” Micki’s throat felt parched and she took a swallow of her drink before adding, “I’ve been working.”

Long, hard-looking fingers began teasing the bow on her dress straps and a remembered chill of pleasure feathered her arms. Micki opened her mouth to tell Wolf to stop as she lifted her head. The words and her breath dried up in her mouth. He had lowered his head and his face was so close she could smell the pungent aroma of bourbon. Now his voice was so low she wasn’t sure for a moment that she heard him correctly.

“About who you’re sleeping with.”

For a full five seconds she stood stunned, then indignation kicked fury through her veins and retaliation from her mouth.

“That’s none of your business!” She spun away from him, setting her drink down on a glass-topped table as she headed for the door. Hand on the knob, she turned back to him, eyes glittering with anger.

“But of one tiling you may be sure—he’s not already tied, legally, to another.”

Micki turned the knob and pulled the door open. The palm of Wolf’s hand hit the solid wood forcefully, slamming it shut again. Micki stood perfectly still, almost afraid to breathe. The quietness of his tone unnerved rather than calmed her.

“What, exactly, is that last dig supposed to mean?”

While he spoke he turned her around and forced her face up to look at him. Micki flattened herself against the door, hating the havoc the look of him and the scent of him created within her. His hard, taunting mouth was too close. Alarm vied with a sudden, urgent need to feel the touch of that mouth. Alarm won, sending her tone to sub-zero.

“I’m not a fool, Wolf.” With effort she managed to not only meet but hold his intent gaze. “I never was the complete fool you thought I was.”

“I never thought you were a fool,” Wolf denied sternly. He loomed over her, his head lowering until his mouth was no more than a sigh away. “Baby, baby,” he murmured hoarsely. “Why did you run from me?”

“Why?” Somehow she pushed a dry laugh from her throat. “Because this fool suddenly smartened up and realized what she didn’t want.”

His lips caught, played with hers. “Tell me now you didn’t want this.” His hands came up to grasp her hips, arch her close to him. Moving slowly, caressingly, they reached over her waist, settled possessively over her breasts. “Or this,” he groaned into her mouth. When he felt her shudder, his hands moved again, long fingers encircling her throat while his thumbs stroked her collarbones. His breathing ragged, he rasped, “Or this,” as his mouth crushed hers.

For one blinding instant everything inside Micki urged her to surrender. Then reason, plus a dash of self-preservation, took over and she went as cold and unresponsive as a stone.

Wolf didn’t force the issue. Within seconds of her withdrawal he lifted his head and stepped back.

“I haven’t the vaguest idea what you’ve been talking about.” His silvery eyes had a dangerous, calculating gleam. “But I intend to find out.”

“Don’t waste your time,” Micki choked out. She wet her lips and felt her heart thump when his eyes dropped to her mouth. Pushing her words a little, she went on. “When something’s dead, it’s dead. And what happened between us died a long time ago.”

“Prove it.”

He rapped the words at her so fast she blinked in confusion.

“Prove it?” she repeated indignantly. “It doesn’t have to be proven. It’s evident.”

“Not to me.” His tone was hard and unyielding. “You have to prove it to me, if you dare.”

“How?”

Micki eyed him warily, somehow certain she was walking into a trap, yet unable to resist flinging his challenge back at him.

“In no way that’s frightening, so stop looking like a startled doe ready to bolt for the bushes.” His soft, reasoning tone made her more wary still. She didn’t trust him and it showed in her expression. His sigh was elaborately exaggerated. “Simply agree to see me occasionally, talk to me.”

“And that’s all?” In no way could she keep the blatant surprise from her face. His soft laughter skipped along her nerve endings.

“That’s all.”

It was too simple. Micki knew it was too simple, yet she had accepted his dare. Momentarily she had a very uneasy feeling she’d been had. Well, so be it, she shrugged mentally. If things got sticky she could always find an excuse for not seeing him. And maybe, just maybe, she could finally banish the pain, consign the memories to oblivion forever. Self-confidence won.