Come Pour the Wine (12 page)

He released her hand and said, “How about some champagne?”

She merely nodded, too alarmed by her blunder to trust her voice.

He got out of bed, slipped into his robe and left the room.

Alone, she looked up at the ceiling. Well, the words couldn’t be retracted. As she got out of bed she looked down at the bloodstained sheet. It didn’t matter … Kit had said that Bill would take her to the moon and he had, she thought as she went to the bathroom to wash.

When she returned, Bill stood at the side of the bed, holding a bottle of champagne and two glasses. Suddenly she felt ashamed and began to dress.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

Without looking at him she answered in a half-whisper, “I think I should leave.”

Her expression caught him off balance. If he had an ounce of brains he’d let her go, but something about her wouldn’t let him.

“Why do you want to?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I just think it’s best. Really, Bill.”

“What do you suppose I’m going to do? Put you in a taxi and let you go home alone?” Even as he heard his words he was mildly shocked. He’d never asked a girl to stay. But then, he’d never met anyone quite like Janet Stevens, and she’d zeroed in on him, scored on him, if you please, whether he liked it or not. Exactly what he felt for her at this moment he wouldn’t question. He only knew that he wanted her to be with him because he felt a loneliness inside he’d never known, or admitted, before. He wished she hadn’t told him she loved him … well, later he’d put all the pieces together again. For now … “Please stay, Janet …”

She gave him a searching look, then picked up her long satin slip and put it on to cover her nakedness. Bill watched her in the light from the bedside lamp. She seemed so small, so fragile, vulnerable. There wasn’t another girl he knew who would have covered herself. She stood in front of him, her eyes lowered, and it took all his discipline not to take her off to bed again. Instead he turned to the bottle of wine and poured a glass for each of them. He held out his hand and she went to him. They sat on the edge of the bed and sipped at their glasses.

Janet averted her eyes from the stained sheet. Strange thing to be thinking about at this moment … She sipped once more, then drained the glass. “Awfully good champagne,” she said, handing him the glass to be refilled. The wine began to work its way, and she felt more confident as they sat beside each other making easy conversation in low voices. So what if she had told him she loved him? He had become aloof, reacting exactly as Kit had predicted but—no, not quite. And now he was smiling at her, and he hadn’t given her a brush-off and sent her home after her blunder, if it was a blunder … You’re wrong, Kit, and he’s no rat. He’s a very nice person who simply doesn’t want to become too involved. And—oh God, it would be too painful not to have your love returned. She shut out the thought, held out the glass to him. “Don’t mind if I do.”

“Do you think you should, Janet?” Again he was shocked by the feeling of protectiveness she’d roused in him. Lord, how many girls he’d encouraged to get high just to free them of inhibitions. But Janet? This had been her first time and she’d given herself so … openly. No fakery, no pretense. Totally honest … It meant more to him than he would admit …

“Do you mind?” she said, still holding her glass out to him.

“No, of course not. But you know this stuff isn’t ginger ale.”

“So-o-o? I happen to be very fond of champagne. Even if I do spill it …”

He refilled the glass and watched in surprise as she drained it. A tiny smile played around her lips and eyes and then became a low laugh as she looked first at him and then at the bed. She stood unsteadily and took his hand in hers. “I’d like to change the sheet … if you don’t mind … think it’s only fair. I’m very neat, you know.”

“Okay, if that’s what you’d like—” He was beginning to smile now too.

“Thass
what I’d like,” she said, giggling as she pulled him to his feet.

Where were the sheets? he wondered. His housekeeper took care of that department.

“Why are you just standing there? Let’s get the sheets … please.”

“I would, but I don’t know where they are.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“No, really.”

“All right … let’s go find ’em … okay?”

“No, you stay. I’ll find—”

“No, no, no … we’ll do this together like buddies.”

They were both laughing as Bill steadied her and they went down the narrow hall to search the cupboard. He opened one louvered door after another. Damn it, imagine living in a place and not knowing where the linens were?

“Aha. I think we stumbled onto something here,” Janet announced. She reached into a cupboard for the sheets and back they trudged to the bedroom.

Pixilated as she was, somehow Janet managed to strip off the bottom sheet.

“Okay,” she said, “you stand on the other side and tuck the thing under.”

Together they achieved the task. It wouldn’t have passed muster in the army, but Janet patted the bed admiringly and said, “Now isn’t that neat. I
tole
you … Boy, I’m really dizzy.” Having made that pronouncement, she flopped down on the rumpled sheet.

Bill got out of his robe and climbed in beside her to hold her close.

She responded eagerly, kissing him without restraint, running her hands along his smooth hard body and pressing him to her. Then she was on her back, and he was on top of her.

This time he thrust deeply, rotating gently. Between kisses she said again, “I love you, Bill McNeil,” and added, “What’s more, I don’t care if you know it. I’m not supposed to tell you, but I love you love you love you.”

He silenced her by putting his mouth firmly over hers.

She clutched at the pillows beside her head as she began to buck against him, feeling as if she was on a roller coaster going up to the highest peak. Faster, faster … At the highest point she whispered, “Don’t let it stop.” And then she passed out.

He leaned on his elbow and looked at her. God, she was beautiful. The thick lashes almost touched her cheeks. He smiled, thinking what a curious evening this had been. He’d had his share, more than his share, of sexual encounters, but never anything like this. He laughed softly to himself. He’d never forget how she’d looked trying to get that sheet on, and no one had ever felt so good in his arms. There was nothing contrived or studied or shopworn about this lady. Maybe that was what intrigued him … well, partly anyway. She had never been touched and, without vanity, he was happy he had been the first. There
was
something very special about that, even if it seemed an old-fashioned notion. Strange, the effect she had on him. He had resented it when she first said she loved him, but suddenly he didn’t feel threatened by it. In fact he liked the feeling that he wasn’t just
another
stud male servicing a female. That’s what all his sex had amounted to. Just performing. Proving he could outscrew, literally and figuratively, the competition. Women compared, kept score who was the best in bed. They’d told him so.

Janet moaned and mumbled contentedly, then rolled onto her side.

He covered her shoulders, switched off the bedside lamp and snuggled into the contour of her body, gently putting his arms around her and feeling the soft velvet skin of her firm abdomen.

Janet awoke feeling slightly disconnected. Her head pounded and the morning sun glared painfully in her eyes. She’d been drunk last night …
very drunk.
What a stupid thing to have done. She was sure she’d made a complete ass out of herself. How would she ever be able to face him, much less explain her conduct? When she realized that he was no longer in the bed she put her arm over her eyes, feeling even more desolate.

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

She was startled. He was bending over her, and there was nothing derisive in his voice. In fact, if anything it was a voice that sounded like a smile. Still, she couldn’t look at him. “I feel terrible … and ashamed. I must have made an awful fool of myself.”

He took her arm gently away from her eyes and looked at her. “You have nothing to feel ashamed about.”

“Yes I do, a lady doesn’t act the way I must have last night.”

“You couldn’t be anything but a lady. Take it from someone who’s had his fill of the other kind … Feel like a cup of hot coffee? Just made it.”

She nodded, then looked at Bill’s face to see if anything of last night could be read into it. It revealed nothing. She asked softly, “I suppose I said a lot of things I shouldn’t have … last night?”

“Not that I can remember.”

“I hope you know I’ve never been that way before.”

“I didn’t think you had.”

When he left the room she sat up too quickly. Feeling as if her head would blow up, she inched herself to the edge of the bed and stood unsteadily. She took a deep breath, then walked to the bathroom, where she used Bill’s toothbrush and took a long shower, letting the hot spray pelt against her.

She turned the shower knobs off reluctantly and reached for a towel. Bill watched from the bedroom, remembering the silkiness of her hair under his hands as she combed through it.

She came out of the bathroom with the towel draped around her like a sarong and got into bed.

“Here’s your coffee. Drink it while it’s hot.”

She sniffed, then sipped. Ambrosia. And a few moments ago she thought she was dying. “This is delicious.”

“That’s the beginning and end of my culinary art.”

“It’s so good.”

“Glad you like it.”

“Mmmm … I do.”

They sat side by side drinking the hot brew.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Audrey Hepburn?”

“Oh … a few times,” she answered, embarrassed in spite of her effort to sound flip. “Well, did anyone ever tell you that you look like a cross between Charlton Heston and … Gregory Peck?”

“No. What part of me looks like Charlton Heston?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

“I’d never do that,” he said, taking the cup from her hand and placing it next to his on the nightstand. Sliding down into the bed, he lay on his side and put his leg over hers. “God, you smell so sweet.” Between kisses she answered, “You … too …”

For a while nothing else existed except the wonder of exploring each other’s bodies with soft caresses. Once again he drew her hand between his legs, then left her embrace and trailed his lips downward until he found the moist tender sweetness between her thighs.

He discovered places she didn’t know existed as he parted the lips with his tongue. She could scarcely breathe with the onslaught of new sensations, and her heart pounded as she ran her fingers through his hair. When both sensed the moment was right, he moved up to her, thrusting himself deep inside. Janet felt herself dissolving in a warm turbulent sea, her passion rising to match his until both were spent.

How strange, she thought as they lay clinging to each other. A few short Sundays ago her day had been spent in the worst sort of despair. She’d been desperate, compulsive, walking through Central Park like some feline stalking its prey. If she hadn’t defied every convention she’d been brought up with she would never have been here now, feeling so content in Bill’s arms. She snuggled closer and listened to his heart beat. It was a marvelous sound.

“Bill,” she asked softly, “how do you spend Sunday?”

He’d almost forgotten. This
was
Sunday, the one day his mother lived for. Damn. He wanted badly to spend the day with Janet, the first girl to sleep in his apartment around the clock, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her that he had to go home and see mama every Sunday. “Why do you ask?” he answered with more irritation than he intended.

Janet was startled by the annoyance in his voice. Last night he had almost begged her to stay after he’d recovered from her declaration of love, and from then on everything had been unbelievably wonderful. But now he was peeved by a simple little question about how he spent his Sundays. She simply couldn’t figure him out.

“I don’t know why I asked … I just wondered what people did for diversion. It’s … that I find Sundays so lonely.”

He laughed to himself … for him loneliness spelled M.O.T.H.E.R.

“Oh, people do different things, I suppose,” he said, trying not to think of what lay ahead for him this afternoon.

“Like?”

“Like … play tennis, skate, horseback riding. I don’t know. I suppose visit … with family.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Visit? A lot I mean?”

“Well, quite a bit,” he answered reluctantly.

“I think you’re lucky.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I’m very family oriented. I just wish I could see mine more often. Telephone calls aren’t the same.”

Telephone calls … Lord, it was already noon and she was probably waiting right now. “Janet, I’m sorry as hell, but you’ll have to excuse me for a moment … I should call my mother, she’s expecting me for lunch today and if any of us are late she worries herself sick … well, you know, she’s an old lady …” He looked embarrassed.

She could have kissed his mother. So
that’s
what he did on Sundays. And just a few weeks ago she’d fantasized that that was his big day for bedtime dates …

Janet dressed while Bill was phoning. Looking at herself in the mirror, she wondered how she was going to walk into the Barbizon with a long dress on. Everyone would know. If only she had a coat she could hike up the dress and tuck in the waistband. Well, it was either lose her reputation or ruin one of her favorite dresses. No more debates. Using a small pair of scissors that she found in the bathroom, she cut the dress to a daytime length and then launched into the surgery of her long satin slip.

She wasn’t going to fool anybody by this, she thought as she surveyed the dismal results. She’d not only ruined the dress and slip but her name would be mud forever. No one would look at the ragged raveled edge of the chiffon and believe that that hem had come undone. Sighing, she went back to the bedroom.

Bill was in such a hurry to get out of there and get Long Island over with that he didn’t notice her dress until they stood in front of the elevator. “What happened to your dress? Moths get it?”