Night Hunter (50 page)

They were too much alike, therefore an impossible match. Fletcher, on the other hand ... She sighed with regret —

Then again with pleasure. Now, in her bedroom, on her stomach on the massage table, a bath towel and a fine patina of scented oil the only things covering her body, she relaxed under the firm hands of the masseuse as she worked the tightness from between Amelia’s shoulder blades.

She had decided to leave Matthew. She’d sell off what she could around the house; some silver and crystal. The jewelry was all gone, sold ages ago, the money turned over to Fletcher, but she had the diamond earrings Matthew had given her last week. They were worth a couple of thousand. She would wheedle the credit card out of him one last time and go on a shopping binge.

The decision to leave Matthew had been an extremely difficult one. But she reasoned that if he touched her one more time she would go stark raving mad--tear his eyes out, take a knife and rip him to shreds, castrate him. The night before, when he had come at her—she always thought of it as coming
at
her, not
to
her—it was all she could do to keep from biting off his slimy tongue when he lapped at her, leaving her sloppy wet and physically sick.

She was still a beautiful woman. Still desirable. Fletcher had valued money over love. A sad excuse for a man. There were plenty of other men out there, and many of them were rich. She would just have to learn to live with less until the right one came along.

The hands left her just when the tension was beginning to ease.

“
My neck and shoulders, Katie,” she said, her words muffled in the flat pillow under her head. “And then my feet.”

The hands touched her calves, then moved along the back of one thigh before diving between her legs.

Amelia’s eyes flew open. She jerked her head up, a protest on her lips. But instead of Katie standing over her, she saw Matthew, his bulbous eyes watering. He smiled wickedly.

He bent down, his tongue invading her ear, sopping her hair. She shuddered.

He reached for his fly.

Amelia rolled over and sat up, covering herself with the towel. “Not tonight, Matthew,” she said.

He looked at her in that particular way of his, a mixture of wounded pride and anger.

That was stupid of her, she realized too late. Now she could forget the damn credit card.

Regina sat in the window seat, in the dark, staring at the faraway winking, shimmering lights. This had become her favorite place to sit and contemplate. And lately she had plenty to contemplate.

With the telephone in her lap, she called Donna, apologized for not visiting, and asked straightaway. “Has Judge Corde ever propositioned you?”

“
You mean lately?”

“
Anytime.”

“
Why do you ask?” she said, her voice sounding evasive.

“
Please, Donna, it’s important.”

“
Several times. I considered them bribes.”

“
Why didn’t you say something?”

“
The first time I was just a frightened young girl in a beauty pageant where he was a judge. I was afraid. The last time was a couple months ago at a dinner party at their house. I told Nolan. He said I shouldn’t make waves, that the judge had a lot of influence in this city. God, I was blind where Nolan was concerned. But my eyes are open now. Reg . .” Donna paused, then said, “Nolan and I are separating.”

“
Oh, Donna…” Regina said quietly.

“
It’s okay. It was my decision. There are going to be a lot of changes in my life. Good changes. I’m coming back on the show —when I’m fully recovered, that is. And I want you to co-host with me.”

“
Donna, I don’t know what to say, I . . .”

“
Say yes. I’ve already talked with Max. Nolan will be off ‘Gallery’. Don’t think I didn’t know what you had to go through with him over the years. And I appreciate your silence, your patience. Now, with just you, Tom, and me, it’ll be one helluva show.”

“
You still care for Nolan?”

“
Of course I do, but I’ll get over him.” She sighed. “My decision has little to do with his sleeping with Amelia. Nolan was like a mood-altering drug. Before the attack, he made me happy, but he wasn’t good for me. I can’t get well with him around. Although he doesn’t mean to, he makes me feel ugly, like damaged goods.”

“
Donna, how are you doing? If you need company, I can be there in twenty minutes.”

“
Frankly, I’m exhausted.” She paused. “Regina, I’m going to be fine. Really fine.”

“
Of course you are,” Regina said.

Regina offered to drive Donna home the following day, but Donna said Tom Gansing had insisted.

They exchanged good-byes and hung up.

So Donna knew about Nolan and Amelia. Tom Gansing also knew, but she doubted he had been the one to enlighten Donna. More than likely Donna had simply sensed the rat abandoning ship.

Thinking of rats, her thoughts wandered indiscriminately to Judge Corde. During the Classic pageant, the judge had used his lofty position to bribe at least one contestant, though she suspected there were more. In exchange for sexual favors he had promised to tip the scales. But he was only one of six judges. How much influence could one man have? The accidents. Had they really been accidents, or cleverly executed eliminations? Corde was without a doubt guilty of bribery at the pageant, but did that automatically make him the culprit to all the rest?

What of Corinne?

Regina tracked another course, trying to make sense of what was happening, but no matter where her mind ventured, John was there, crowding out all else.

She wished she had his novel now. Reading it would bring him close to her for a time.

The phone in her lap rang, startling her. She let it ring again, then answered.

“
Regina,” John said quietly, letting her name hang in the air.

“
Hi.” Why was her heart going crazy?

“
Just wanted to make sure you got home safely and that everything’s all right.”

“
Yes, thanks.” Silence. “John?”

“
Yeah, I’m here.”

“
John, Corde propositioned Donna. Bribery seems to be consistent with him.”

No response.

“
Did you hear me?”

“
Yes, I heard.” Another long pause.

“
It’s awfully quiet in the bar,” Regina said.

“
I’m not at work. I’m downstairs.”

“
Oh.”

“
Well ... good ni-”

“
John ... ?” She couldn’t let him go. “The copy of your novel you gave to me ... maybe tomorrow I can—”

“
It’s on my desk. If I’m not at home, go on in, the door’s always open. Get it whenever you like.”

“
Thanks. I will.”

“
Good night.”

“
John?”

He was gone.

She pressed the receiver to her chest and hugged it, reluctant to give up the instrument that had carried his voice to her. He was home, yet he hadn’t invited her down. But then she hadn’t invited him up.

She cradled the receiver, rose, and with weary steps, went into her bedroom. Although it was early, she was exhausted. She had to shut off her brain or she would go crazy.

She undressed, dropping her clothes to the floor. In the bathroom she took a clean towel from under the sink, and shaking it out, she paused. John’s words in the car as she dropped him at The Bull’s Blood came back to her:
You and
me .. .
where the hell are we going?

Where, indeed?

And then she knew. She knew where
she
was going.

Wrapping the towel around her, she strode out of the room and didn’t stop until she reached the closet in the entry. There she paused only long enough to exchange the towel for her gabardine coat, cinch the belt together, and rush out the door.

He poured himself a gin on the rocks, took off his shoes, socks, and sweater, and popped the top button on his Levi’s. After flipping off all the lights and turning on the stereo, he slumped down in the wingback chair, his bare feet propped on the mahogany coffee table. He thought of Regina as he sipped his drink and listened to Roy Orbison singing “Oh, Pretty Woman.”

He’d been in love twice before in his life. First with Corinne and then with Darlene. What he was feeling now was strangely like that, only he wasn’t young and naive anymore. After Darlene, there’d been women, but nothing serious. He wondered if what he was experiencing now was only the wants and needs of a man lusting after a desirable
woman ...
a woman who hadn’t fallen all over him because he was single and charming and easy to look at.

It was one thing to lust after a woman, quite another to love one—especially another career-minded woman. Commitment was scary. Regina had been married half her life. A good marriage? Probably.

He couldn’t think about their night at the inn without feeling a pleasant, erotic stirring. He wondered if he would ever make love to her again. At that moment as he sat in his chair, he wanted her badly. Wanted to hold her in his arms and stroke her satiny skin. Wanted to hear her breathy cries in his ear, feel her fingers gripping him as she shuddered with sexual release. But to go to her, to seduce her again with soft words and tenderness, was to imply an obligation he wasn’t ready for.

Across the room he heard a slight scraping sound. Then the door opened slowly and someone, a woman, silhouetted from behind by the low-watt outer hallway light, slipped inside.

John’s pulse quickened. He recognized Regina by the cut of her hair, her profile, her posture. Casually, without disclosing the excitement he felt, he lifted his glass and sipped again, the cut-crystal rock glass reflecting fragments of light. He watched her as she closed the door. With her back against it, moonlight raking over her gray coat, she stood quietly staring at him.

He put down his drink, lowered his feet to the floor, stood, and then moved toward her. She waited. He stopped within a fraction of an inch, his bare chest grazing the stiff fabric of her coat lapels.

She untied the belt and let the coat fall open. Moonlight poured over her nakedness. John’s pulse began to throb with the pace of the music. There was no question as to why she had come. No games. No words. Touched by her need for him, greatly aroused by her provocative approach, he resisted the urge to crush her to him and take her right there in the entry.

Instead, lifting his arms, one on each side of her, his hands flattened to the door above her head, he leaned in and gently pressed his lips to hers. They kissed, savoring the touch and taste of each other. Her breasts felt warm and silky against his chest. He pushed the coat off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He turned the dead-bolt, locking the door.

Her hands moved between them and, one by one, she released the metal buttons on the front of his Levi’s, the backs of her fingers caressing his fast-growing erection. All restraint gone now, John pulled her in his arms and kissed her with a barely controlled fierceness. In an instant he was as naked as she. Without parting, he backed them up until they were in front of the fireplace, where he lowered her to the floor to lie on a lamb’s wool rug. She inhaled sharply —from the erotic touch of the fleece, or the hardness of him as he entered her, or both, he didn’t know. His own senses were wild with anticipation and pleasure, wanting her and knowing that afterward he would want her again.