A Moment in Time (13 page)

"I'm on Spanish time," the handsome young man
joked, his teeth sparkling white against his dark skin. He put one
hand on each side of her face and leaned down and kissed her lips.
"You know how Argentinians are."

She grimaced at his attempt at humor. "Why're
you so late?" she asked, patting the chaise longue next to her and
scooting over to give him room to sit down. She leaned back again,
looking up at him.

He eased his muscular body down next to hers,
and shrugged his massive shoulders. "I was out at the polo grounds
till dusk," he said. "Like I told you I would be." He leaned over
and kissed her lips, a hand moving to one of her easily accessible
breasts, taking great pleasure in the feeling of her nipple as it
began to harden under his touch. After a moment, he sighed with
satisfaction and sat back up. "Then Palmer Johnson wanted me to
look at some new polo ponies of his, so I went over to his
place—"

"Oh, fuck Palmer Johnson," she said.

"Arielle," he said softly, looking into her
eyes, "don't take your anger out on me. I've done nothing wrong.
I'm just a little late. Whatever it is that bugs you—"

She sat up and threw her arms around his
neck, hugging him to her tightly, relishing the feel of his hard,
sweaty body next to hers. "Oh, it's not you, Lolo," she said
contritely. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's that horrible Wyn." Her
eyes became flinty with hate. "I could kill him, Lolo. I really
could."

Lolo heaved a sigh. "What's the asshole done
now?"

"It's the same old story," Arielle said,
removing her arms from around his neck. "He hasn't signed the
damned papers yet, and he knows good and well I can hardly make
ends meet on that stupid temporary allowance the court decided
on."

"Did it come today?" he asked casually. "The
check, I mean?"

"No," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Jesus!" Lolo spat. "I'd like to go to New
York and kill the son of a bitch myself. And I mean it,
Arielle."

"I wish you would," Arielle countered,
assessing him, wondering if he really did mean it. "That would
solve all of our problems."

She paused and took a sip of her drink. It
certainly wasn't the first time she'd thought about killing Wyn.
"If I thought you could get away with it," she said, "I'd ask you
to do it. I wish I could do it myself. I hate him." She tapped a
fist against Lolo's chest. "I hate him, hate him
, hate
him!"

Lolo took her fist in his hand and brought it
to his lips, kissing it. "You know, Arielle, he's stalling just to
torture you," Lolo said. "To torture both of us."

"Yes, I know," she replied. "But knowing that
doesn't help, does it? The torture just goes on and on."

"He'll sign soon," Lolo said. "He has to.
Don't worry." He put a finger under her chin and lifted it, looking
into her eyes. "Then all of our troubles will be over. We'll have
everything we need. Everything. You'll see." He leaned down and
began planting kisses on her beautiful face, first her forehead,
then her nose, eyes, each cheek, and chin.

Arielle responded to his tenderness, her lips
and tongue brushing over his neck, his ears, and face, until their
lips met. They hungrily began kissing, their hands roaming over one
another's bodies. Lolo gently pushed her back down against the
chaise and drew himself up next to her, grinding his loins against
her perfect body, moaning aloud at the feel of her sweet, soft
femininity against him.

Arielle ran her hand over his chest and down
to his thigh, then around to his hard bubble butt, reveling in his
masculine odor, his sweaty riding gear, the dusty skin-tight polo
jodhpurs and boots. "You're soaked," she murmured, almost
shuddering with desire.

Lolo drew back. "Maybe I'd better go shower
and change," he said, knowing that she wouldn't want him to.

"No, don't. I like you like this."

He laughed softly. "And I like you like
this." He ran a hand inside her blouse again, rubbing a nipple
between thumb and finger.

"Ummm," Arielle murmured. "That feels soooo
good."

Lolo brushed his lips against hers. "Let's
make this last a while," he whispered. "Let me get us both a drink?
Huh?"

"Ummm . . . ," she murmured again, pulling
him to her. "I think that's a great idea." Then she gradually
released him. "Let me do it for you," she said, looking into his
eyes. "I want to make a drink for my Lolo."

She swung her legs off the chaise and got to
her feet, then slipped into her mules and click-clacked to the
marble drinks table, casting a kittenish smile at him over her
shoulder. She got two clean glasses, put ice cubes into them, then
poured in healthy portions of Boodles. Finally, she added a tiny
splash of tonic and a squeeze of lemon to each.

She walked back over to the chaise, putting a
little extra swing in her step. "Here," she said, smiling. "Just
the way you like it."

Lolo's eyes traveled up and down her body
before he took the proffered drink. He held it up and Arielle
clinked hers against it. "
Salud
," he said.

"
Salud
," she echoed, then took a sip
of her drink and let out a breathy sigh.

"Suddenly you don't sound very cheerful,"
Lolo said, running a hand up her leg.

Arielle slumped down onto the chaise and
stared into her glass. Lolo was right. She didn't feel very
cheerful. Thoughts of Wyn and the nasty divorce had crept back into
her consciousness, like an irritating itch that wouldn't go away.
There'd been a time, back in the beginning of their marriage, when
she'd thought she was the luckiest woman alive. With all the women
Wyn had—and there'd been a lot—he'd chosen her above all the rest.
She'd never forget the blonde that was determined to have him, then
left brokenhearted when Arielle had won out.
What a bitch she
was
, Arielle thought. She'd taken a special pleasure in seeing
that one leave, crushed by the weight of what she'd lost. But the
triumph Arielle had felt then gave her little comfort now.

Lolo set down his drink and slid an arm
around her shoulders. "Come here to me," he said, pulling her
toward him. "Don't look so sad, Arielle," he said. "Your Lolo is
here for you."

His lips brushed up her neck, and he began
nibbling her ears. "I know he's a real prick," he said in a near
whisper, "and he's messing everything up now. But it won't be long
before the lawyers will tell him he can't stall anymore."

Arielle took a long sip of her drink, then
sighed again as she set it down. "I know," she said, "but in the
meantime it really is making things difficult. I can hardly afford
to pay the help, and I can't afford to entertain. Thank God I can
charge everything at the shops and the club."

He pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh," he
whispered. "Don't think about it now, Arielle." He began gently
kneading her neck and back.

"That feels so good, Lolo," she said with the
hint of a smile. "I've been so . . . tense about all of this. I
mean, what the hell are we even doing here tonight? We shouldn't
even be here."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"It's summer," she said. "We should be having
fun in Southampton or Europe or at least the place up in the
Adirondacks. Anywhere but here in the summertime. Nobody's in Palm
Beach in the summer."

He took both of her hands in his, kissing
them tenderly. "At least we're together, Arielle."

"Thank God for that," she said. "If it
weren't for you, I don't know what I'd do."

"I wish I could do more," Lolo said, looking
into her eyes. "But you know they don't pay me that much for
riding. If I had my own money and a stable it would be
different—"

"No, no, no!" Arielle said earnestly. "That's
not what I mean, Lolo. I don't expect financial help from you.
That's the last thing in the world I would expect. I know that
Palmer Johnson's just like Wyn and all the rest of the rich
bastards that play polo. They practically starve their star
players." She looked into his dark eyes. "Like you," she said, "the
best of them all."

He grinned, his white teeth flashing. "Well,"
he said, "one of the best anyway."

"I think you're the best," she said with
pride in her voice, "but it's your being here that's even more
important. It's what keeps me going from one day to the next."

His face became serious. "You really do feel
bad tonight, don't you, Arielle?" he said. "Much worse than usual."
He reached over for his drink and took a sip, waiting for her to
speak, knowing that she needed to talk a while.

She sighed again. "I never would have
imagined that my life would go this way. I wouldn't have believed—
not in a million years!—that Wyn could be so cruel and spiteful and
selfish. He wasn't like most rich men I knew. Money was never an
issue. He wasn't a tightwad like most of them, you know? God knows,
we threw it around like there was no tomorrow."

She reached over and shook a cigarillo from
the pack on the table, and Lolo picked up her lighter and held its
flame for her. "Thanks," she said, exhaling a streamer of blow.

"Go on," he said. "Tell me what's on your
pretty mind."

"Well," she said. "That was one thing I liked
about Wyn. He didn't really care about all that money and let me
spend whatever I wanted to. That's what it's for, he always said.
He's got so much he doesn't know what the hell to do with it." She
took another drag off of her cigarillo and looked at Lolo, her eyes
suddenly flashing anger. "But, Jesus, has the son of a bitch ever
changed his tune. And there's no reason on earth he should be so
horrible and mean."

"It'll all be over soon," Lolo said, not
knowing what else to say. "Maybe . . . maybe I could get some kind
of job or—"

"No way!" Arielle said. "No fucking way!"
Then she laughed. "I can just see that. No more clubs, no parties.
No trips. Early to bed, early to rise. No, Lolo." She poked his
chest with a finger. "You and I weren't meant to live like that.
That's for all the losers out there." She reached over and stroked
his handsome face with her hand. She felt much better now, having
talked about her woes. "Somehow we'll make out," she said. "At
least I have you all to myself. And it's fun to see you drive all
the horny divorcees around here mad with jealousy." She kissed his
nose.

Lolo grinned. "YQU make the men a little
crazy yourself," he said. "I think every man in Palm Beach wants
you, Arielle."

She tossed her head and laughed. "You think
so?" she asked.

"You know it," he replied. He reached over
then and pulled her to him. "And that includes me," he added. He
began kissing her roughly, passionately, and hungrily, his hands
exploring her body. Serious talk was over, and it was time for some
serious play.

Arielle responded immediately, the fires of
her desire rekindled by the feel of him against her. She ran her
hands over his hard-muscled shoulders and arms, down his tight
stomach, and slid one between his thighs, feeling the tumescence
straining at his jodhpurs. She moaned with pleasure as Lolo began
licking her breasts with his tongue, teasing her nipples between
his teeth. She gasped aloud when she felt his hand between her
thighs, fingering her wetness.

In one furious movement, Lolo jerked her
shorts and panties down and off her legs and unzipped his jodhpurs,
releasing his throbbing manhood. He mounted her then, entering her
up to the hilt suddenly and quickly, and began pumping away at
her.

Oh, God, Arielle thought in an ecstatic
swoon, her entire body shuddering against his
. Just when I
thought it was all over for me, the man of my dreams comes waltzing
into my life. And what a man he is! Not like that beast, Wyn
Conrad.

Chapter Eight

Colette!" Valerie exclaimed, looking up from
her desk, where she was filling in a chart. "It's good to see you."
Elvis, who was in his bed, wagged his tail furiously.

Colette Richards, Valerie's elderly neighbor,
swept into the office, her exotic perfume preceding her. She
snatched off her sunglasses, and Valerie could see that her bright
blue eyes were wide with alarm.

"Oh, Val, darling!" Colette cried, her voice
at once whispery and throaty. "I'm
so
glad to see you, too.
You've no idea, my darling." She spied Elvis in his bed and blew
kisses in his direction.

Valerie rose to her feet and gave Colette a
kiss on the cheek, then motioned her to a chair. "Here, Colette,
sit down," she said. "Is it my imagination, or are you upset?"

They both sat down, Colette putting a large,
expensive-looking straw tote with leather handles in her lap, then
placing her arthritic hands, which were bedecked as always with
huge jeweled rings, delicately across the top.

"Oh, Val, darling," the old woman gasped,
"where to begin?"

Colette's habitual manner was so dramatic,
Valerie thought, that she wasn't especially distressed by the
elegant and arty woman's histrionics. Then it suddenly occurred to
her that Colette didn't have Puff Puppy curled across an arm,
yapping and snarling and otherwise making a nuisance of himself.
How odd, she thought. Colette took the petite snow-white Maltese
everywhere with her, as if he were a fashion accessory.

"Colette," she asked, "where's that little
scoundrel, Puff Puppy?"

"At home, darling," Colette replied.

"Then what's the matter?" Valerie asked. "I
saw your name on the list and assumed that something was wrong with
him."

"Oh, Val, darling," Colette said, tears
springing into her large eyes. Valerie grabbed the box of Kleenex
she kept on the desk for distressed pet owners and pulled out a
couple. "Thank you, darling," Colette said. "I'm sorry to be such a
blubbering old nuisance, but it's . . . it's Hayden!" Tears began
to roll down her rouged and powdered cheeks.