Mystique (6 page)

"Happy New Year, darling." He
leaned forward and kissed her, his mouth a gentle caress, his tongue a hot,
questing spear that set fire to her bloodstream. His arm slid over her bare
middle and pulled her to him. "I wanted you to wake up, love. I've been
waiting."

"You mean we haven't... ah, made
love—euphemistically speaking, that is?"

His eyes narrowed on her, the sparkle in
them turning to a hard glitter. "No, we haven't made love—euphemistically
speaking."

Misty let out her breath in a long sigh
and rolled away from Luc's loose hold, out of bed, and to her feet, snatching
up a blanket to cover herself. She fumbled awkwardly, and the blanket slipped,
revealing a generous amount of skin.

She stood rigidly straight, almost naked,
facing him, her chin up and her hands clenching and unclenching on the blanket.
Her face flushed and her skin burned under Luc's hot gaze as his eyes traveled
over her. She took deep breaths, trying to steady herself as he lay on his side
watching her, the sheet barely covering his lower body. She couldn't seem to
force her voice from her throat.

"Do I take it you're telling me no,
my darling, even though we've spent the night in each other's arms?"

"That's right—and I'm not your
darling." Misty forced the hoarse words from her throat, shivering not so
much from cold as from nervous tension.

Luc saw her shudder and reached behind
him for his robe. He tossed it to her. "Put it on, Mystique. It will keep
you warmer than the blanket."

She slid her arms into the voluminous
sleeves, which hung past her hands. Only when the belt was tied did she drop
the blanket. "My clothes," she said, keeping her eyes on him as he
pointed behind her. Without turning, she stepped backward.

His expression darkened. "From your
cautious behavior

I gather you expect me to jump out of bed
and rape you. For some reason you don't trust me, Mystique."

"And all men like you," she
snapped, shooting a quick glance at her silk dress lying on a chair.
"Where's my carrier?"

"Downstairs in the living room.
Shall I get it?"

"No!" With effort she
controlled her anger. She didn't want to see him out of bed, naked and...
beautiful. She closed her mind to the thought.

"Damn it, stop that," he railed.
"I said I wasn't going to rape you, and I'm not. I don't know what the
hell kind of men you've been dealing with, but I'm not what you think."
His anger raised goose bumps on her skin, and she backed away. "Damn it,
stop it, I said. You think I was wrong to climb into bed with you. Well, I
don't, and I sure as hell don't feel guilty because I'm attracted to you. I
haven't done anything to hurt you."

She didn't stay to hear more. In a flash
she raced out of the room and down the stairs to the living room, grabbed up
her carrier, and looked around wildly for a place to change.

"Try the bathroom over there."
Her eyes shot upward. Luc was standing on the balcony overlooking the living
room, a cheroot in his hand, a lighter held to the cigar. He was naked.

"Thank you," Misty mumbled,
sliding her eyes quickly away from his form. God, he was beautiful...

She got dressed in the bathroom, his
brown eyes and ash blond hair filling her thoughts. No way! she told herself.
No way would she get caught in that trap again.

After dressing hurriedly and combing her
hair, she emerged from the bathroom.

Luc stood in the middle of the living
room, dressed in brown cord jeans with a champagne silk shirt and brown vest.
"I'll take you home," he said.

"No need," she retorted, clutching
her carrier to her.

"I said I'll take you home, and I
will."

"I'd rather go home alone. I'll call
a cab."

He ran a hand angrily through his tousled
hair. "Damn it, Mystique, what the hell is the matter with you? I'm sorry
if I offended you. I thought I made it clear that I had no intention of hurting
you. But I also have no intention of hiding my attraction."

"That's why you sent the earrings.
Since I sent them back, you should have gotten the message."

A smile fluttered across his mouth.
"Yes, you did send them back, damn you." He took several restless
steps and turned to face her. "What does it take to convince you that I
want a relationship with you?"

In her anger, the words popped out before
she considered them. "Two things: a certificate from the Board of Health
saying that you're free of disease, and a proposal of marriage."

For once she had caught Luc Harrison by
surprise.

CHAPTER THREE

All the way home in the cab and for the
rest of the morning Misty couldn't get out of her mind the expressions that had
crossed Luc Harrison's face when she'd answered his question. Shock and
incredulity had been followed rapidly by contempt, anger, and finally icy
disdain.

"I'm afraid marriage isn't what I
had in mind," he'd told her coldly. Then he'd helped her with her cape,
called down to the doorman to hold a taxi, and watched her walk into the
elevator. Neither of them had said good-bye.

In the shower, as she shampooed her hair,
she wondered if Luc Harrison really thought she expected him to marry her. She
turned the water on full force, trying to wash away the unclean feeling from
her body and soul. He was no different from Leonard and Richard... and her
father. He thought of her as a toy. She didn't know when her tears began mixing
with the shower water. All at once harsh sobs were issuing from her mouth into
the loofah sponge.

She emerged from the bathroom like a
somnambulist, wrapped in an old terry-cloth robe. She would not go through that
again, she vowed. How many sessions with the therapist had it taken before she
realized that her parents felt threatened by her maturity, by her budding
womanhood, so they had punished her as though she were evil. Then Richard and
Leonard had used her, taken advantage of her. She raised a fist to her mouth
and shook her head. "No, no, no!" Moving like an automaton, she began
neatening her apartment.

As soon as she finished straightening up
the room, she fell into bed and slept deeply, dreamlessly, not wakening until
early afternoon.

Immediately she jumped out of bed and got
dressed. She had promised to take the twins to Rockefeller Center to skate. Thank goodness she felt rested after her nap. Eager to do anything that would
keep her from thinking of Luc Harrison and the pain she had buried deep inside
her, she hurried downstairs to Aileen and David's apartment.

"Are you sure you want to take the
twins by yourself?" Aileen asked, covering a yawn.

"I'm sure. You and David go back to
bed. I know you were up early with them. Honestly, I feel good, and I'm looking
forward to the fresh air and exercise."

"I could call the U.S. Marines and
have them give you a hand." Aileen warily eyed her progeny, who were at
that moment arguing over the multicolored laces in their skates.

"Don't worry," Misty told her
and shepherded her charges out the door.

The twins enjoyed themselves so
thoroughly during the bus ride that Misty began to relax and have fun, too.

"Look at that building, Misty,"
Mary pronounced in awed tones, her nose pressed against the window. "It's
all wrapped in ribbon with a big bow." She pointed at the Cartier building
on Fifth Avenue.

"I saw that before Christmas when I
went with Dad to pick out the tree," Mark announced importantly.

"You're just bragging," Mary
accused through pursed lips.

"All right you two, this is our
stop," Misty announced, urging them off the bus.

The twins were so excited about skating
that they forgot to argue as they walked through Rockefeller Center. It didn't take long for Misty to rent skates for herself. Although she usually found
the rentals too tight or too loose, this time they fit comfortably. The twins,
who had already put on their own skates, urged her to hurry.

"I am hurrying," she protested.
"Mark, I want you to retie yours. You've skipped a few eyelets with the
laces."

"Aw, Misty, do I have to?" Mark
moaned.

"Yes, you do. It will make skating
much more comfortable."

"I didn't miss any of the eyelets
with my laces," Mary announced primly, making her brother glower with
indignation.

"Let's go, let's go." Misty
forestalled an explosion by clasping an arm of each and hurrying them out to
the ice.

There were fewer people than she had
anticipated. They were probably sleeping late after partying most of the night.

Misty kept an eye on the twins, who were
making a rapid if somewhat erratic circle around the rink, and she began to
skate herself. She had always been a good skater. As a young girl she had even
daydreamed of winning a gold medal in the Olympics. But her father had refused
to pay for the expensive coaching that would have been necessary. When she'd
begged to earn the money herself by babysitting, her parents had told her she
was being selfish. Her mother had explained that there were other children in
the family who needed more important things, that they couldn't buy luxuries
for one child without buying them for all the kids. Misty blessed her aunt and
uncle, who had given her not only an old upright piano but also a pair of
secondhand skates that she had loved and used for years.

She smiled as she recalled the telephone
conversation she had had with her aunt and uncle on Christmas Day. They had
urged her to visit them in Florida, and she had made up her mind to do so as
soon as she saved enough money for the trip.

Coming out of her reverie, she looked for
the twins again and found them in the middle of the rink trying to imitate a
young girl about their age who was doing skillful turns and figures. A man and
woman skated up to the girl. Then the man lifted his head and looked right at
Misty. The smile froze on her face. Luc Harrison! What was he doing here? She
looked away from him and continued skating. How was she going to get the twins
away? Of course! She would take them to Rumpelmayer's and buy them some ice
cream.

But before she could act, she felt her
arm being taken in a light but firm grip. She stiffened, and one of her skates
caught on an uneven patch of ice.

"Sorry. Did I startle you?"
Luc's mouth curved up in a smile, but there was no amusement in his face. His
eyes were like icicles that stabbed through her. Tightening his grip on her
arm, he kept her moving forward around the ice. The woman he was with remained
on his other side toward the center of the rink. "Linda Caseman, this is
Mystique Carver. She plays the piano at the Terrace Hotel."

"I've always wanted to be able to
play as well as you, but I'm afraid I'm a rank amateur." Linda gave Misty
a friendly smile.

Misty smiled back, not sure if the woman
was being sarcastic or sincere. Good grief, Luc Harrison had made her paranoid!
"It's nice to meet you, but I really have to go," Misty said, trying
to pull her arm free.

Luc's grip tightened. "Whose
children are they?" he asked, his mouth still smiling but his face tight
with tension.

"Aileen and David's... my
neighbors." Again she tried to jerk her arm free, but she succeeded only
in bumping into an older man who was skating by. "Oh! Pardon me."

"No respect—that's the problem
today," the senior citizen grumbled, glaring at Misty.

"I think I'll go get a hot
chocolate," Linda announced brightly, beginning to skate away from them.
"Nice meeting you, Mystique," she called over her shoulder.

"Nice meeting you," Misty
mumbled, then dug her fingers into the gloved hand holding her arm. "Will
you let me go?" she demanded.

"Stop doing that. You'll knock down
someone else." Still Luc didn't release her.

"I didn't knock anyone down,"
Misty sputtered. "You were the one who— Oh, excuse me." She smiled
weakly at the frowning teenager she had just rammed into. "See? You made
me do that. Let me go."

"No." Luc put his arm around her
waist and began skating faster.

"Stop. I can't skate fast. It makes
me dizzy," Misty argued as the twins' startled faces flashed past her.
Finally Luc slowed to a stop. Misty leaned against him, panting. "What...
in blazes... did you think you were... doing?" she demanded. "Trying
to set a speed-skating record?"

"Tired?" He shot the word at
her like a whip.

"No!" She gulped, then whirled
away and skated out to the middle of the ice, where Mark and Mary were still
trying to master the complicated turns being performed by the young girl Misty
had first seen with Luc.

"Hi, Misty," Mary called.
"I saw you skating with that man. Janie says he's her uncle. Isn't that
funny?"

"Hilarious," Misty said flatly.

"This is Misty." Mark paused in
doing figure eights and introduced Janie, who smiled and held out her hand.

Misty admired the young girl's poise.
"Hello, Janie."