Loving (31 page)

It didn't really, but she knew he wanted to help her, and she didn't want to hurt his feelings by saying no. "All right, all right." She threw up her hands with a small grin.

They rode quietly down in the elevator and ten minutes later they were walking along the edge of the park. Traffic was less frantic than usual because it was Saturday, and now and then a hansom cab clopped slowly by. They wandered along for more than an hour, talking occasionally, and then falling silent for a while, and at last she felt a cozy arm around her and she looked up into his eyes.

"You're a good friend, you know, Ollie. I think that was part of my decision to come back to New York." And then she hesitated for a moment. "You and Ivo." She brushed quickly at a tear with a white-mittened hand. And then softly she spoke again as they waited to cross the street. "Life will never hand me another man like Ivo."

Slowly he nodded. "No, it won't."

And then hand in hand they walked on. It was almost an hour later when they finally stopped to catch their breath.

"Can I interest you in lunch at the Plaza?" But she shook her head slowly. She didn't feel fancy and festive. She still wanted to be left alone.

"I don't think so, love, but thanks."

"Too frenzied?" He understood perfectly.

"Kind of." She smiled.

"How about tea and sandwiches at my place? Does that sound all right?" She brightened at the prospect, nodded, and he quickly hailed cab.

They hurried up the steps of his brownstone, and he opened the door with his key. He had the garden apartment, and as he filled the kettle with water she took off her jacket and looked out into the tiny garden filled with snow.

"I'd forgotten how pretty this is, Ollie."

"I like it." He smiled at her as he started to make their sandwiches.

"I hope I find something as nice as this."

"You will. It takes a while to find the nice ones, but it's worth the look." He had a beautiful beam-ceilinged bedroom with a fireplace, a cozy living room with the same, an old-fashioned kitchen with one brick wall, three wood-paneled ones, a wood floor, and a bread oven, and the garden, which was an unusual bonus in New York.

"How did you find it?' She looked at him happily as he worked.

He smiled at her. "Through the Mail, of course. What are you looking for?"

She sighed as she thought of it. "Something a lot bigger than this, I'm afraid. Like about three bedrooms."

"Why so many?" He handed her a plate with a handsome sandwich filled with salami, smoked ham, and cheese.

She smiled at him and picked up the sandwich. "I need a room for Alexander, someplace to write, and a room for me."

He nodded. "Are you thinking of buying?"

She looked at him in confusion and eventually put down the sandwich and stared at her plate. "I wish I knew." And then she looked up at him. "I don't know what's going to happen, Ollie. Right now I've got all this money from the play. But who knows if that's going to last." She looked at him soberly and he grinned.

"I can promise you, Bettina, it will."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do. You wrote a great play."

"But what if I can't write another one? What if it all stops?"

He rolled his eyes in amusement but Bettina didn't smile. "You're just like the rest of them, kiddo. All writers seem to live with the same, curse. They make a million bucks on their last book, they sit on the bestseller list for six months, and they cry to you about 'what about tomorrow,' can they still do it, what about the next one, what if ... and on and on, and you're just like that with your play."

Slowly she smiled at him. "I'm not really sure anymore, but I think my father was like that too." And her eyes sobered again. "But look at him, Ollie. He died without a penny. I don't want that to happen to me."

"Good, so don't buy seven houses, nine cars, and hire twenty-three servants. Failing that, you should do just fine," He smiled gently at her. She had told him all about her father's undoing and the four million dollars of debt when he died.

She looked quietly at Ollie, her head tilted to one side. "You know, Ollie, all my life I've been dependent on men. My father, Ivo, that actor I was married to"--she didn't even like to say his name--"then John. This is the first time in my life when I haven't been dependent on anyone except me." She looked up at him with a small comfortable smile. "I kind of like it."

He nodded. "You should, it's a good feeling."

"Yeah," she sighed, still smiling, "and sometimes it's scary too. I've always had someone there, and now for the first time in my life, I don't." And then more softly, "I don't even have Ivo anymore. All I have is me."

He looked at her gently. "And me."

She touched his hand warmly. "You've been a good friend. But you know something funny?"

"What?"

"I don't mind having to rely on myself. It scares the hell out of me sometimes, but it's a nice feeling too."

"Bettina"--he eyed her with candor--"I hate to tell you this, but I think you've just grown up."

"Already?" She looked at him and started laughing, and he toasted her with his cup of tea.

"Listen, you're way ahead of the game. I'm nine years older than you are, and I'm not sure I've grown up yet."

"Sure you have. You've always depended on you. You've never been dependent like I have."

"Being independent has its drawbacks too." He looked pensive as he stared into his garden. "You get so hung up on what you're doing, on where you're going, and how to get there, that you never get too close to anyone else."

"Why not?" She spoke very softly in the warm, cozy kitchen as he watched her.

"You don't have time. Anyway I was too busy getting important, wanting to be number one at the paper in L.A."

"And now you've almost made it here." She smiled gently. "Now what?"

"I haven't made it, Bettina. You know what I wanted? I wanted to be like Ivo, to be the publisher of a major newspaper in a major town. And you know what's happened? All of a sudden I don't give a damn. I like what I'm doing, I'm enjoying New York, and for the first time in forty-two years, I don't give a shit about tomorrow, I'm just enjoying myself right now, right here." She smiled at him in answer.

"I know just what you mean." And as she said it she leaned almost imperceptibly forward, without even knowing she had, and Ollie suddenly moved toward her, and without thinking they kissed for a long, heady time. She pulled away finally, looking startled as she caught her breath. "How did that happen?" She tried to make light of it, but he wouldn't let her. There was suddenly something very serious in his eyes.

"It's been a long time coming, Bettina."

She was about to deny it, and then she nodded slowly. "I guess it has." And then after a moment, "I thought ... I kind of thought ... we would always be just friends."

He took her carefully in his arms again. "We are. But there's a confession I have to make to you, Miss Daniels. It's something I've wanted to tell you for a very long time," He smiled gently down at her and she smiled.

"Really. Mister Paxton, what's that?"

"That I love you ... in fact I love you very much."

"Oh, Ollie." She buried her face in his chest with a sigh, but he reached under and caught her chin with his finger and gently made her look him in the eye.

"What does that mean? Are you angry?" For a moment he looked almost sad, but she was shaking her head with a look of chagrin.

"No, I'm not angry. How could I be?" Her voice softened still further. "I love you too. But I thought... it just seemed so simple ... the way it was."

"It had to be simple then. You were married. Now you're not."

She nodded, thinking, and then she looked him squarely in the eye. "I'll never get married again, Oliver. I want you to know that right now." She looked deadly serious as she told him. "Do you understand that?" He nodded. "Can you accept it?"

"I can try."

"You have a right to get married, you've never done it, You have a right to a wife and kids and all of that staff. But I've done it, I've had it, I don't ever want that again."

"What do you want?" He held her loosely in his arms and caressed her with his eyes.

She thought for a long moment "Companionship, affection, someone to laugh with and share my life with, someone who respects me and my work and loves my child.... " She fell silent and their eyes met and held.

It was Ollie who finally broke the silence. "That's not too much to ask, Bettina." His voice seemed gentler by the moment as he stroked her soft coppery hair.

She nestled in his hand like a cat near a fire in winter, her eyes sparkling as she looked into his. "And you, Ollie? What do you want?" Her voice was deliciously husky.

Ha seemed to hesitate for a long time. "I want you, Bettina." And as he said it his bands moved from the brilliant hair that framed her face and began to slowly peel away her clothes. She let herself be unraveled like a ball of twine, until at last she lay there, naked and shimmering, on his bed, a bare expanse of creamy satin beneath his soft, stroking hands. And then like a chorus to a song she had long dreamed of, he said it again and again and again. "I want you, Bettina ... my darling ... I want you ... my love.... " And suddenly she felt the flames of her own long forgotten passion engulf her as he rapidly and expertly brought her body back to life. And suddenly she was leaping and surging in his arms, tearing at his clothes, until they lay there together, breathless and hungry, burning with an insatiable desire for each other's love. And at last the fires they had so quickly fanned burned gently to embers and they lay in each other's arms and smiled.

"Happy?" He looked down at her with a tender gleam in his eye that said that she was his now.

"Yes. Very happy." Her voice was a sleepy whisper as she laced her fingers into his and nestled her head into his neck. "I love you, Ollie." It was the smallest and sweetest of whispers, and he closed his eyes and smiled.

He pulled her gently toward him and let his mouth hungrily seek hers once more, and his limbs and his soul and the very essence of his being reached out to her once again.

"Ollie.... " This time she smiled when he took her. It was their game now. And they were both having fun and enjoying making love to each other at last. "Is it really supposed to be like that?" She looked at him with a suspicious grin when it was over.

"Like what?" His smile was as mischievous as hers. "You mean lighthearted?" He was grinning broadly as he reached around and held her behind in both his hands. "Madam, has anyone told you lately that you have the best-looking fanny in town?"

"Do I?" She grinned wickedly at him. "Maybe they ought to put that on the marquee of my play...."

She appeared to ponder the possibility and Oliver laughed and tousled her hair.

"Come here you.... " But the hands were gentle even when the words were playful. "Woman, you can't even begin to imagine how much I love you." He fell silent for a long moment, and Bettina gazed up at him with a lifetime in her eyes.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I can, Ollie ... oh, yes I can.... "

"Can you?" He was smiling again. "How?"

But she wasn't playing now. She reached out and held him with all of her strength, her eyes tightly closed, her heart held out to him as she whispered the words. "Because I love you with my whole soul." And as she said it she felt for a moment as though this were her last chance. Her eyes opened then and she looked at Oliver Paxton and smiled as he leaned down and kissed her again.

Bettina stared at Ollie gloomily in his kitchen as he poured her more tea. They had been spending long hours in his apartment for the past two weeks. She was renting her suite in the hotel by the month now, but Ollie's place still felt more like a home.

"Don't look so cheerful, darling. I promise, I'm honest, hardworking, and very neat." He waved at the total chaos around them, four days of newspapers, his bathrobe, and Bettina's clothes. "See?"

"Don't be funny. And that's not the point."

"Then what is?" He sat down comfortably at the oak table and reached for her hand.

"If we move in together, it's all going to start again, it'll happen. I'll get dependent, you'll want to get married. Now I have to think of Alexander. It's just not right." She looked miserable and his eyes attempted to console. They had been discussing it all week.

"I understand your concern about Alexander, and I share that concern too. But this doesn't make sense either. You're running back and forth to the hotel, you never have time to work, and it'll be the same damn thing if you get your own apartment. You'll be spending at least half your time here." He leaned over and kissed her and they both smiled. "Do you know how much I love you?"

"Tell me."

"I adore you." He whispered it softly.

"Goodie." She giggled and leaned forward to kiss him across the table as she felt his hand slide up her leg. It had been like that since the first time. He was so gentle and funny and easy to be with. He understood her, and her work, and he truly loved Alexander. But best of all, she and Ollie shared a special friendship. She wanted nothing more than to live with him, but she didn't want the same nightmares to happen again. What if he started to resent her work? What if Alexander annoyed him? What if he cheated on her or she on him?

"So? Do we get an apartment together?" He looked at her triumphantly and she groaned.

"Has anyone told you that you're pushy?"

"Frequently. I don't mind it at all."

"Well, Ollie"--she looked at him firmly--"I'm just not going to give in."

"Fine." He shrugged easily. "Then get your own apartment, don't get any sleep, stay here till five in the morning, and then rush home so your son doesn't know you were out, but that will mean another bedroom, you know."

"Why?" She looked puzzled.

"Well, you'll have to have Jennifer living in the way she does at the hotel, but I assume she'll want her own room. You can't just run off and leave Alexander in the middle of the night."

Bettina looked at him and rolled her eyes. "Damn you."