Be Mine, Miss Valentine Page 9

  "Sure." She smiled, then gently freed her hand and turned in the direction of her apartment.

  Bernie was already pouring himself a snifter of brandy when Alex walked into the living room. "You want one?" he asked.

  "Sure. Why not?" Alex sank onto the chintz-covered couch and stretched his legs out in front of him. He accepted the glass from Bernie and swirled the amber liquid around in the glass as he sniffed.

  Bernie sat in one of the wing chairs. "So what's the story with the good-lookin' broad?"

  Alex grinned. Good-looking broad. Wouldn't Ronnie bristle if she heard that description? "What do you mean?"

  "Hey, kid, don't play dumb with me. I thought the whole idea of you comin' up here was to get away from the broads and all that. Now here I find you all cozied up to a pretty little girl, and it's obvious to me that you've been seein' a lot of her. So what gives?" Bernie took a sip of his brandy, then picked up his cigar and puffed.

  The heavy sweetish smell of cigar smoke hung in the room. The question hung in the air.

  Alex sighed. "Nothing gives, Bernie. Ronnie is a very attractive, very nice young woman, and we are friends. Nothing more."

  "Yeah, and I'm probably gonna win the Mr. America contest next week." Bernie snorted.

  Alex couldn't help smiling. Bernie, all five-feet-four of him, was at least thirty pounds overweight and balding, and he thought exercise was bending down to pick up the paper from his doorway each evening.

  "You like this chick. I know you do." Bernie clamped his cigar between his teeth.

  "Of course I like her. She's a terrific person. Hell, you liked her. I could tell." Alex sipped at his brandy, the fiery liquid warming his insides.

  "Yeah ... well, she's a foxy chick. Great ass."

  "Bernie!" Alex laughed aloud.

  "You didn't notice?" Bernie grinned.

  "Oh, I noticed," Alex said.

  "Thought so. So ... you and her makin' it?"

  "Now wait a minute," Alex said quickly. "That's none of your business!" He glared at the older man.

  "Don't get your bowels in an uproar, kid. I've only got your best interests at heart. Remember what happens when you let your hormones control your life."

  The conversation continued for a long time, and that night, as Alex lay in bed, he couldn't forget some of the things Bernie had said. Maybe it was a good thing Bernie had come this weekend. The situation with Ronnie had been nearing a crisis point, Alex knew that. And he also knew he'd be much better off if he didn't allow their relationship to go any further. Perhaps it would be best if he left Juliette very soon. The revisions to Signposts had gone very well so far—maybe he could finish them in the city. That's right, run away, he chided himself. Then, remembering that things always looked better in the light of day, he rolled over, punched up his pillow, and drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  After church the next morning, Ronnie decided to do some work in the garden she and Sam shared. She put on an old pair of khaki shorts and a plain white T-shirt and her beat-up Reeboks and socks. She put a white headband on to keep her curly hair out of her eyes and walked outside. The sun was already hot. It was going to be another scorcher, she thought. As she walked down her stairs, she saw the carriage house door open and Bernie Maxwell walk outside.

  She grinned. He was dressed in blue plaid bermuda shorts and a dark blue golf shirt. He looked like a typical suburban husband off to play a round of golf on the weekend, instead of the hotshot New York agent she knew him to be.

  As she neared the bottom of the steps, he turned and saw her. He raised his hand in greeting and walked toward her.

  "Good morning," she said.

  "Yeah, same to you. You gettin' ready to go runnin' or something?" He puffed on his cigar as his dark eyes studied her.

  Ronnie shifted under his scrutiny. His eyes were more alive and aware than most people's, and she wondered why he made her feel so uneasy. "No," she said. "I was going to work in the garden for a while."

  "How 'bout walkin' a bit with me?" he said.

  Ronnie shrugged. "All right."

  They started down the driveway and out onto the road. Mohawk Road was a narrow, two-lane street with wide dirt shoulders and not much traffic. They walked slowly along the shoulder of the road, and Ronnie wondered why he'd invited her to go along. She didn't have long to wait.

  "Ronnie," he started. "You don't mind me callin' you Ronnie, do you?"

  "No."

  "I'm gonna say somethin' that I probably shouldn't. Alex would kill me if he knew I was sayin' it, but I'm gonna say it anyway."

  Ronnie knew what was coming.

  "You know how close me and Alex are?" he asked.

  "Yes, I do."

  "Yeah ... well, I love the kid. I couldn't love him more if he was my own kid."

  He sounded just like Sam, she thought.

  "I want him to be happy, and I know bein' happy means bein' able to write. Alex is one of those rare people ... people you and me can't ever be. He's got a monumental talent, Ronnie, and his writing is the most important thing in his life."

  "I know that."

  "Do you also know that Alex was almost destroyed by that bitch he married? She was an obsession with him, and when she left him, I really worried about his sanity." His voice had taken on a gruffness and an anger.

  Ronnie shivered despite the heat of the sun beating down on them. "Why did she leave him?" she asked.

  "Because she's selfish, spoiled, and immature. That's my opinion. 'Course, I can't ever say a word against her to Alex. He won't listen. I think he really thinks it's his fault they split. But the fact of the matter is, Margo didn't really want to be married. She wanted the bright lights and the fame, and she wanted to party every night and travel and spend money. She refused to face the plain fact that in order to have that money to do everything she loved doing, Alex had to write. And to write, he needed peace and serenity. Not parties and booze and stayin' up half the night."

  "And that's why she left him?" Ronnie was incredulous.

  "Yeah. Can you beat that? She couldn't stand the quiet life, and Alex couldn't live the way she wanted to, so one day she packed her bags and took off. And she broke his heart."

  The woman must have been crazy, Ronnie thought. If she were married to Alex, she couldn't imagine leaving him for any reason, let alone one so shallow and unimportant.

  "Anyway, Ronnie, Alex couldn't write for the whole year they were married, and then after she left, and he finally started to get over the whole thing, his writing was still missing the old magic. That's why I suggested he come up here. To get away from it all."

  "And it's worked. Alex has read his work to me over the past few weeks, and it's wonderful."

  "Yeah ... maybe. But if he gets more involved with you, I'm afraid the same thing will happen as happened with Margo. This return of his ability to write seems fragile to me. I don't trust it yet." He stopped, shoved his hands in the pockets of his shorts and stared down the road. "Alex is very vulnerable right now," he said softly. He turned to look at her, his dark eyes bright and penetrating. "He doesn't need the complication of a woman in his life."

  Ronnie looked down at her feet. Anything to evade those knowing eyes. "We're just friends," she protested. "He says I've helped him." But her rejoinder sounded weak—even to her.

  "Maybe so. But he's had a lot of unhappiness ... a lot of rejection in his life ... and he doesn't need anymore problems. I hope you understand that."

  Ronnie knew she should be just as irritated with this funny little man as she had been with Sam and his unasked-for advice, but she wasn't. "I do," she said. "Don't worry. I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt Alex or hurt his writing. I admire and respect him and his work too much."

  Bernie smiled. "Good. I knew you seemed like a sensible girl." His eyes twinkled. "Now how do you feel about an overweight, older man like me? I don't have any reason not to get involved with a great-lookin' broad like you..."

  Chapter 6


  Ronnie was still laughing when she and Bernie entered her yard. Bernie's blunt remark was uttered with such good humor and in such a teasing manner, she couldn't be offended.

  "What's so funny?" said Alex from his doorway as they approached. "I hope you're not telling her stories about me."

  "No. Nothing like that," Ronnie said between chuckles.

  "You sure are conceited, thinking the only reason a beautiful girl could be laughing in my company is because we were talkin' about you," Bernie said.

  "So where did you go?" Alex asked. His gray eyes roamed over Ronnie, and she felt a familiar stirring at the warmth in his gaze.

  With a tiny catch in her voice, she said, "Just down the road ... for a walk."

  "Do you want to come in and have lunch with us? I'm fixing hamburgers. On the grill." Alex grinned, and Ronnie knew he was thinking the inducement of hamburgers would be all it took for her to accept the invitation. Ronnie loved hamburgers, and Alex knew it.

  But she shook her head. "I don't think so. I promised Sam I'd work in the garden today. He was complaining the other day about having to do all the work this year, and I get half the proceeds."

  "We're still on for dinner, aren't we?"

  Why did he have to look at her like that? Ronnie could feel little chillbumps on her arms from the intensity of that smoky gaze. She glanced at Bernie Maxwell. His shrewd dark eyes stared steadily back. "Why don't we just skip tonight?" she said. "You probably want to spend time alone with Bernie."

  "Bernie's leaving after lunch. Aren't you?" Alex said.

  "Yeah. Gotta get back at a decent hour tonight," Bernie agreed.

  "Well..." Ronnie said.

  "It's settled, then. Come over here. I'll cook," Alex said with a satisfied smile. "Seven? Eight?"

  "I'll come at eight." Then she turned to Bernie. "Since you're leaving soon, I'll say goodbye. I enjoyed meeting you, and I enjoyed our walk ... and talk."

  * * *

  The evening air was thick with summer sounds and smells as Ronnie walked the short distance to the carriage house at eight o'clock that night. She could hear children laughing and splashing next door. The O'Hara children in their backyard pool, she thought. Sam's windows were all wide open. He refused to buy a window air conditioner, and Ronnie could hear the T.V. set blaring away. The carriage house didn't have an air conditioner either, so Ronnie had put on a lightweight red sundress and sandals.

  At the door, she could hear the clear, lovely voice of Linda Ronstadt singing something old that Ronnie didn't recognize.

  "I'm glad you're here," Alex said as he opened the door. "I've been working on Act III ever since Bernie left, and I've got a problem I can't figure out how to solve. I want to read it to you." He ran his fingers through his dark hair. He grabbed her hands and pulled her inside.

  Ronnie allowed him to lead her into the living room, and she could see he wasn't kidding when he said he'd been working. Papers littered the room, and the typewriter still sat on the desk in front of the window.

  Alex poured her a glass of white wine without asking her if she wanted it, and after he handed it to her, she sat on one end of the couch and sipped while Alex sat on the other end of the couch and read the part bothering him. "What do you think?" he asked when he finished.

  "I think it's wonderful," she said. "I don't quite understand what..."

  Alex jumped up and began to pace. As he talked, he punctuated his sentences by jabbing his finger in her direction. His gray eyes blazed. Ronnie couldn't help thinking that even agitated, he looked wonderful in his white shorts and open-weave white shirt. She could see all the muscles in his legs and arms and chest ripple as he walked rapidly back and forth. Her chest tightened, and her pulse accelerated. He exuded pure animal magnetism, and Ronnie didn't know how much longer she'd be able to spend so much time in his company without going crazy from frustration.

  "...So you see," Alex finished. "Jack looks like a fool when he turns down Maria's offer, and I don't know how to make him look sympathetic. I don't want the audience to laugh at him. I want them to feel his pain and realize what it's cost him to say 'no' to her."

  Ronnie tried to ignore her strong awareness of him as she concentrated on the problem Alex had presented. Finally, in a hesitant voice, she said, "I ... I could be wrong. I'm not creative, like you are, but I really think the problem is you haven't shown me Jack's motivation for his actions. That's why I can't feel the sympathy you're looking for. I don't know why he's turning Maria down."

  Alex's mouth dropped open. He stared at her. Then he threw his head back and shouted. "Good Lord! You're absolutely right! I can't believe it!" He took two long strides, grabbed her hands, and pulled her up. He put his arms around her and hugged her, lifting her up off her feet in his exuberance.

  Ronnie could feel every taut muscle in his chest and smell the unique male smell he exuded, mixed in with his spicy sandalwood cologne. She closed her eyes and reveled in the heady sensation his nearness caused. Still keeping her in the circle of his arms, he let her body slide down his until she was once again on her feet. The friction caused by the contact of her body moving against his made Ronnie feel so weak, she could hardly stand up. A tremor shook her body, and Alex's strong arms tightened.

  On the stereo Linda crooned about moon and June, and Alex said huskily, "Veronica?"

  Ronnie looked up. His eyes were twin magnets of smoky gray. She could see flecks of black in their depths, and as she watched, his eyes changed and softened, became cloudy with warmth and desire. Incapable of speech, she clung to him, her heart hammering against her chest erratically as she watched his face descend.

  At the first touch of his warm lips, Ronnie felt as if someone had set off a firecracker in her body. An explosion of feeling consumed her—a dizzying mixture of happiness and love and an aching need and the overpowering urge to give. Oh, Alex, her mind cried. Oh, Alex.

  "Oh, God," he moaned against her open mouth. Ronnie felt as if she were melting, as if she had no bones. His warm, slightly rough palms massaged her bare back, stroked her arms, caressed the back of her neck, and his demanding mouth claimed hers again and again.

  Ronnie whimpered as his hands found her breasts. An unbearable longing shot through her, centering itself in her throbbing core. Love me, love me, she prayed.

  "Oh, God, Ronnie. I want you," Alex whispered raggedly as his hands lifted her skirt. He slowly stroked her bare legs. The heat from his hands burned her skin.

  "Yes," she murmured. "Yes."

  Without another word, Alex put his hands underneath her and lifted her off her feet. Before Ronnie could catch her breath, he shouldered his way into the bedroom and gently laid her on the big double bed. The last bit of twilight gave the room a soft, lavender glow. Ronnie could hear the song of crickets outside the open window and the accompanying song of Linda on the stereo. She could feel the slightly rough chenille bedspread under her sensitized skin. She waited.

  Alex sat beside her. In the pale light, she could see his eyes gleaming and his chest moving rapidly up and down. She could hear his still uneven breathing and see the evidence of his passion and desire. With his fingertips, he traced the outline of her collarbone, then dropped his fingers to the hollow between her breasts. Slowly, he leaned over her and placed his moist mouth where his fingertips had been. Ronnie's heart leapt, and the sweet pain of longing burst within her.

  "Are you sure?" he whispered against her skin. His breath sent a shiver along her body.

  "Yes," she said. She touched his hair as he kissed the delicate skin on top of her breasts. His hair felt thick and silky, just the way she'd known it would. "Yes."

  Alex raised himself up. Then very gently, he pulled her into a sitting position. With trembling fingers, he untied the straps of her sundress. As he pulled the top down, Ronnie's bare breasts were exposed, and she shivered as he touched first one, then the other.

  When he bent to kiss them, she closed her eyes, savoring each stabbing, exquisitely tormenting s
ensation.

  Alex slowly removed her dress and then, almost reverently, her lacy underpants. As his warm hands slid under their elastic tops and pulled them down, Ronnie's breath caught. His fingers stroked her gently as he watched her face. "Do you like that?" he whispered.

  "Oh, yes," she said. You could do anything, she thought. Anything. And I'd love it. Because I love you.

  "Veronica?"

  "Yes?"

  Alex pulled his shirt over his head, then tugged his shorts off. "Are you on the pill?"

  Her eyes widened. "No."

  "Are you protected at all?"

  Very little light was left in the room, but Ronnie heard the gruffness, the concern in his voice. "No," she admitted.

  "I'll take care of it, then," he said. He leaned over her, kissed her hard and muttered, "Don't go away."

  As if I could, she thought. Nothing could drag me away. Not now.

  When Alex returned to the bedroom, he lowered himself next to Ronnie, turned her to face him, and caressed her with a sure, yet gentle touch. Each loving stroke added to the steadily building heat in Ronnie's body. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to the feelings his hands and lips elicited. She shuddered as his hot mouth found her sensitive places; she throbbed with a torture both agonizing and sweet. She could feel his growing need, and as she tentatively reached for him and touched him gently, he stiffened and gasped.

  "Veronica..." His hands grasped her, pulled her tight against him, and his mouth covered hers, demanding, scalding, claiming her for his own.

  Ronnie's heart thundered in her ears. A great rush of desire consumed her, and at her eager response Alex moaned softly.

  When he lifted himself over her and joined their two bodies, Ronnie gasped. At first she felt pain, but soon she answered his movements with movements of her own, and Ronnie felt that kindling sensation again, as if he were slowly adding bits of fuel to the fire in her body. Soon the heat consumed her until her very center ignited, sending flames and sparks to each nerve ending of her body in one great rush of blazing glory.

  As shudders shook Ronnie's body, Alex lost control, and soon his own cries joined hers as pleasure spiraled through him. His arms tightened around her, and he could feel her heartbeat against him. Keeping their two bodies locked together, he gently rolled onto his back, holding her clasped against him. He loved the feel of her moist, warm skin against his length; he loved being inside her. He buried his face in her silky, fragrant hair, breathing in its lemony fragrance.