By the time they left the bar some four hours later, Micki’s head was slightly fuzzy from a combination of the loud music and the drinks she’d consumed. Her body was damp with perspiration and she felt as if her legs might fall off at any moment.
As they drove back to Ocean City, Micki leaned her head back against the seat with a contented sigh. The breeze rushing in through the car’s windows cooled her overheated skin and Micki inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of the sea.
“Do you want to come to my place and see my etchings?” Tony’s quiet voice nudged her out of a half doze.
“Do you have some?” Micki asked innocently with deliberately widened eyes.
“No,” he admitted ruefully, then added brightly, “but I make pretty good coffee. Would that do instead?”
“That would do perfectly,” Micki laughed, unsuccessfully trying to smother a yawn.
Tony’s apartment was on the third floor of a large, old building, kept in excellent repair. Mumbling, “Why didn’t you warn me about the stairs?” Micki groaned as they trudged upward. The apartment comprised the whole of the third floor and consisted of a fair-sized bedroom, a large kitchen-living room combination, and a small bathroom. The furniture was sparse, but what there was was comfortable and well chosen.
“Make yourself at home,” Tony tossed casually, walking to the kitchen area. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes, I have one of those almost instant things.”
Micki sank onto the overstuffed sofa and sighed sleepily as the soft cushions seemed to envelop and cradle her tired body. Half asleep, the sound of Tony’s quiet movement touched the fringes of her mind. There was the rattle of a tray being placed on the coffee table and a CD sliding into the player, then, as the cushion beside her depressed from Tony’s weight, the voice of Bruce Springsteen came to her softly from the stereo.
“Are you asleep?” Tony’s voice was low and soft and very, very close.
“Almost.”
Lifting her heavy lids, Micki smiled into the light-blue eyes only inches away from her face. One arm resting on the back of the sofa, he leaned over her, his expression serious, somewhat sad.
“I’m going to kiss you, Micki,” he murmured. The scent of alcohol came to her as his warm breath whispered over her face. Micki knew her own breath held the same tinge.
“I know.”
His lips touched hers gently and then, with a low groan, his arm slid around her waist, his chest crushed hers, pushing her body deeper into the cushions, and his mouth became a driving force that searched hers with an urgency that held near desperation. At first, startled into stillness by the very intensity of his action, Micki lay unresponsive in his embrace. Then, her own feelings of desperation swamping her, she curled her arms around his neck, returned his kiss with equal fervor. Stretching his frame beside her, his hand moved down her back to the base of her spine, urging her body to meet his. Hope flaring that maybe this time she’d feel something, if only a tiny quickening of desire, Micki arched her body to his, her arms tightening around his neck.
Other than the mild, pleasant sensation she usually felt when being kissed, there was nothing. No spark of excitement danced along her limbs, no fire rushed inside her veins, no longing to give herself up to sensual pleasure clouded her senses. She yearned for those sensations, longed to feel them, yet, even when Tony’s hand moved over her rib cage to stroke her breasts, there was nothing. She could have wept in frustration and disappointment. Attuned as she was to those emotions, she felt them reciprocated from Tony when, with a strangled moan, he released her and flopped back against the sofa.
“It’s no good, is it, Micki’?” It was posed as a question, yet it wasn’t one. She answered anyway.
“No, it’s no good, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” The sigh he emitted seemed to come from the depths of his being. “It’s mine.”
Leaning forward, he poured coffee into the two cups on the tray, lifted one, tasted it, then stood up abruptly.
“Better drink your coffee while it’s still hot,” he advised softly, walking to the window on the other side of the room.
Shifting to the edge of the sofa, Micki added milk to her coffee and sat staring at it, her eyes sad and misty.
“Goddamn!”
Tony’s sharply expelled curse startled her upright, her eyelashes fluttering in bewilderment.
“Tony?”
Her soft entreaty brought his body around to face her, a small, apologetic smile on his lips.
“I’m sorry, Micki.” Tony’s lips twisted. “But I was hoping, no praying, that something would ignite between us. It would have been perfect, we’re so compatible. We can laugh and talk so easily together without strain that I thought—maybe—we could make love together as easily.”
Micki frowned, and knowing she misinterpreted his words, he added hastily, “Not just sex, but love—you know.” His lips twisted more harshly. “The real thing, stars and music, the whole shootin’ match.”
“Yes, I do know.” Micki’s frown deepened. “It would seem that we’re suffering from the same malady. You’ve been hurt badly, haven’t you?”
“God, yes!” Tony’s softly groaned exclamation tugged at her heart. Then, as the full content of her words sank in, his eyes sharpened on her face. “You too?” At her nod he probed. “Do I know him?”
Unblinking, Micki stared at him steadily until, turning palms out, he lifted his shoulders and pleaded, “Forget I said that. Bad, was it?”
“Yes.”
“I know the feeling.” He laughed humorlessly. “I’ve been there. Hell, I’m still there.”
“She didn’t”—Micki paused to choose her words carefully—”care for you?”
‘That’s the stinger.” Tony’s smile hurt her. “She loved me.”
“But then, why?” Micki’s face wore a puzzled expression. “Tony, I don’t understand.”
“Neither did I.” He laughed harshly, puzzling her even more. Reading her expression, he lifted his shoulders again in a weary, defeated way. “I threw it away, honey,” he stated flatly. “I had it all in my hands and I threw it away.”
“Tony!” Micki cried in exasperation. “You are not making any sense.”
“Nothing new about that,” Tony sighed. “I haven’t made much sense for some time now.” Tilting his head, he asked quizzically, “Was I always stupid, Micki?”
“Tony!” Micki begged. “Will you stop wallowing in self-pity and explain?”
“Am I doing that?” he asked, startled, then he smiled. “Yes, I guess I am. Sorry, hon. Are you sure you want to hear it?”
Micki nodded emphatically. “Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
“Yes, friends.” Tony’s smile softened. “Okay, friend, you asked for it.” Drawing a deep breath, he began. “I met her in Atlantic City. She’s a supper-club singer,” At the slight rise of Micki’s eyebrows, his hand sliced through the air dismissively. “Oh, she had no great ambitions, no burning drive to be a star or anything. But she has an appealingly soft voice, perfect for the supper clubs, and it was a way for her to earn a good living. She comes from upstate New York and she arrived in Atlantic City via New York City.” He paused and his smile turned whimsical. “We met— introduced ourselves—at a blackjack table.”
“She’s a gambler?” Micki exclaimed.
“Lord, no!” Tony laughed, then sobered. “Even though she gambled, and lost, on me.”
“But how?” Micki cried. ‘Tony,
will you
explain?”
“All she wanted was marriage, children, and believe it or not, she wanted me for their father.”
“You didn’t want to get married?” The idea didn’t surprise Micki. Many guys shied away from that total commitment.
“Hell, yes,” he disabused her at once. “I wanted that more than anything in the world. But, Micki, she was so lovely and I had so damned little to offer her.”
“Ah, Tony—” Micki began, but Tony’s self-derisive chuckle cut her off.
“That’s exactly what she said. In exactly that tone of voice. But, you see, I wanted to have everything perfect for her. I wanted to wait until I could give her a home and all the nice things that go in it.” He smiled ruefully. “She didn’t want to wait, told me she’d enjoy working with me to get the things we’d need.” He drew a deep breath, went on slowly, painfully. “I wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t even consider it.”
“But, Tony, most young couples work together to set themselves up.” Micki’s face revealed her astonished reaction to his words,
“I know, I know, but—” He paused to wet his lips. “Micki, you know me, I’m great in the light moments, like earlier this evening, but when it comes to the heavy stuff, well, I freeze up. And with her it was even worse. I wanted her so much, yet I was almost afraid to touch her. I didn’t merely love her, I put her on a pedestal, literally adored her. I—”
He turned away from her, his shoulders slumping, and Micki’s heart ached for him all over again. When he turned back to her, his face was pale.
“She wrote me a letter.” His soft tone betrayed the strain he was feeling. ‘Told me a friend she used to date had come down to A.C. to see the casinos and had looked her up. He asked her to marry him.” Tony grimaced, but continued. “She said she couldn’t wait anymore, so she was going back home with him, was going to accept his proposal.” Suddenly his eyes shot blue sparks and his fingers raked his hair roughly. “I should have dragged her off the pedestal and into my bed. That’s what I meant when I said I threw it away.”
Micki sat staring at him long moments before, rising quickly, she walked around the sofa, her mind working at what it was about his narration that bothered her.
“Did she love you, Tony?” she finally asked.
“Yes,” he answered at once. “I’d bet everything I own on that, Micki.”
“Oh, Tony!” she exclaimed impatiently. “Did she take your brain with her when she left?”
“What do you mean?” he bristled.
She ignored his question to ask one of her own. “How long ago did she leave?”
“Two months, one week, and four days ago. Why?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” she groaned. “Tony, you don’t need a friend, you need a keeper. Didn’t it ever occur to you she might be trying to get you off dead center?”
“In what way?” he snapped.
“Probably the second oldest way there is,” she snapped back. “You made sure she couldn’t use the first. She took a powder, took off, leaving a letter designed to make you jealous. You, dumbhead, were supposed to go after her.”
“Do you really think so?” he asked hopefully.
“Is she married?” Again Micki brushed off his question to pose one of her own.
“I don’t know.”
“Why don’t you?”
“For God’s sake, Micki, you sound like a trial lawyer,” Tony growled. “How would I know?”
“Men!” Micki’s eyes lifted as if beseeching help from above. “Do you know what town she comes from? Her parents’ name?”
“Well, of course.” He sounded almost angry. “But what has th—”
“Call them, ask them,” Micki cut in sarcastically. ‘They very likely know if their daughter has gotten married.”
“Just like that?” Tony snapped his fingers. “Just call and ask? Come on, Micki, I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Micki nearly shouted in her exasperation with him. “What’s so unusual about a friend calling to find out if a proposed marriage came off? A friend might want to be sure before sending a wedding gift.”
Tony’s eyes grew bright, then dimmed again. “What do I do if she answers the phone?”
“Ask her, you idiot,” Micki chided. “And if the answer is no, then coax, plead, beg her to come back to you. Promise her anything, but—” she paused, her eyes twinkling. “Give her yourself, your love.”
In a few long strides, Tony crossed the room, caught her to him and hugged her fiercely before releasing her to gaze fondly into her eyes.
‘You’re wonderful,” he said clearly. “I’ll do it. Oh, baby, the guy that let you get away had to be completely crazy.”
Micki winced, as much from the name
baby
as the rest of his words. Tony was instantly contrite.
“Oh, Micki, I’m sorry. What happened? Don’t tell me he acted as stupid as I did?”
“No,” Micki shook her head, her gentle tone robbing the denial of its sting. “He didn’t put me on a pedestal.” Her tone went rough. “In fact he treated me like a silly fool, called me a youngster, a juvenile.” Feeling her cheeks flush, she dropped her eyes. .”And he didn’t have to drag me into his bed, I practically jumped into it”
“I know what it cost you to say that.” Tony’s hand caressed her hot face. “But what happened? What went wrong?”
“I found out, after it was too late, that he was using me.” Biting her lip, she lifted overbright eyes to his. “I was a very willing, convenient plaything for a weekend.”
“He told you that?” Tony demanded, outraged.
“No, of course not,” Micki sighed. “But the way I found out, well, it left no doubt at all as to his intentions. Oh, I’m sure he would have been willing to fit me into his schedule every now and then, as long as I didn’t become difficult—or boring.”
“Micki, stop.” Tony’s eyes were anxious, his tone concerned.
“Don’t worry, Tony,” Micki shook her head at him. “It all happened a long time ago. I’m fine now, really.”
“Oh, sure.” His tone called her a liar. ‘That’s why you tried so hard to work up a response to me a while ago. The experience shattered you so badly you’re still trying to put the pieces together.” His eyes grew soft. “I can see why it would. If you know me, I know you as well. I was around, I saw how fiercely you guarded your innocence.
For you to give it up so willingly, you would have to be very much in love. And it still hurts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes,” Micki whispered.
He gazed at her silently several seconds, then his eyes narrowed in thought.
“You said it all happened a long time ago.” He hesitated before probing. “Was it that time six years ago, right before you went back to college, when you called me and begged me to say yes if anyone asked if we were seeing each other regularly?”
“Yes,” Micki admitted with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m afraid I used your name a lot at that time. I literally hid behind it.”
“Sorry? Now who’s being an idiot?” he scolded. “You may hide behind my name, or me, anytime the need arises. Now come on, it’s late, I’d better get you home.”