Rose of Betrayal (42 page)

           
Moving to the bar, Bernie poured a
drink as she attempted a casual reply.
 
“No.
 
Who cares anyway?
 
It's his loss, right?
 
Besides, I have other plans.
 
Who knows what will happen when I become the
model for the most popular designing studio in New York?”

           
Only Sam knew the magnitude of
Bernie's broken heart.
 
First Brad, now
Peter, apparently two of a kind making her wonder about the fairness of it
all.
 
Bernie deserved better, thoughts
muffling the sound of the phone ringing.

“Well, aren't you
going to answer the damn thing,” Bernie babbled.

           
“You answer it,” Sam tossed over her
shoulder heading toward the kitchen. “I have to check on the food.”

“Hello.”

“Bernie, this is Ted,
quick put Sam on the phone will you.”

           
A frown pleated Bernie's brow.
 
Experienced with Ted's ways, she was positive
what he had to say was not going to be full of Christmas cheer.

“Hi, darling,” Sam
purred.

           
Standing in a lobby of a swanky
hotel with a shapely body pressed against him, her fingers toying with his
hair, Ted exclaimed, “Hi, sweetheart.
 
I'm so sorry, baby.
 
My flight was
canceled due to a storm, and will not be permitted until early tomorrow
morning.”

           
Disappointment settling in Sam's
chest tugged at the tears she bravely blinked back.
 
“Where will you stay?
 
You will be all alone on Christmas Eve.
 
I wanted so much for our first Christmas
together to be special.
 
I planned a
wonderful dinner and . . .
 

Shifting from one
foot to another, she listened, unconsciously nodding and shaking her head in
answer to his explanation.

           
The female nuzzling and blowing in
Ted's ear, nipped affectionately at the lobe as he continued, “I'm upset too,
doll face.
 
I will make it up to you,
honest.
 
There is nothing I can do,
believe me, I have tried.
 
I'll be on the
first flight tomorrow, I promise, hold off Christmas until I get there, we will
celebrate then, O.K?
 
Look, Hon, I have a
long list of clients to call so I have to run.”

“Ted, please be
careful.
 
I miss you; I love you, Merry
Christmas.”

“Merry
Christmas.
 
Love you too, darling.”

The phone remained
cradled in Sam's hand long after the call ended.
  
Slumping into a chair, burying her face in
her palms she gave in to an emotional onslaught.

           
Bernie could just imagine Ted's lame
excuses.
 
Not for one second did she
believe any of them.
 
Positioning herself
beside Sam, her hugs offered much needed warmth and comfort while a long
overdue lecture unexpectedly sprang forward.
 
“Sammy, you have to realize Ted is an important businessman that travels
for a living.
 
Something like this will
happen often.
 
It's going to be a part of
your life you'll have to learn to deal with. Holidays, Birthdays, Anniversaries
you may have hold off and celebrate whenever he is home.
 
You may even be alone when you give birth to
his child, are you really prepared for that type of life style?
  
Think about it, Sammy, think long and hard.”

Taking her animosity
out on Bernie, Sam blurted, “What are you saying exactly?
 
That I shouldn't marry Ted.
 
Is that it?”

           
Yes, would have popped out of
Bernie's mouth.
 
Biting her tongue
regrouped her thoughts.
 
“I'm saying when
you marry someone you promise to accept the good with the bad.
 
This is just the beginning, a small example,
that's all.”
 
Thankfully, the doorbell
rescued her from Sam's rebuke.

           
Gathering her bruised emotions and
straightening her posture Sam swiped at her tears with the back of her
hand.
 
“Oh, God, it's probably Brad.
 
He cannot see me like this.
 
Would you get it, Bernie, please?”
 
The last episode of her immaturity had been
an embarrassing disaster.
 
Sam certainly
did not want Brad to witness another.
 
Running into the bathroom, she splashed cold water on her face and
retouched her make-up.
 
Convincing
herself she could handle whatever came her way, she returned to greet her
guest.
 
With as much grace as possible,
he made his visits brief.
 
He was not
looking forward to this evening one little bit.
 
If all went as planned, he would come up with some reasonable excuse to
leave early.
   

           
He was relieved when Bernie answered
the door and immediately offered him a glass of wine, hopefully, it would ease
his jitters.
 
They sat on the sofa
sharing trivial events until Sam glided into the room.
  

           
Bernie did not miss the instant rush
of color tainting Brad's face or the warmth permeating from his body as he
stood to greet Sam.
          
 
Looking at her through Brad's eyes made Bernie
suddenly aware of the gown she was wearing.
 
From Sam's neck to the carpet, green velvet squeezed her small,
gracefully curving and sloping body.
 
A
Queen Ann collar arching around her thin neck scalloped its way to a deep
plunge between the abundant mounds of golden brown.
 
Wrist length sleeves puffed at the shoulders
almost touching the diamond and ruby earrings dangling from dinky lobes exposed
by a Gibson girl twist.
 
An enormous jab
of jealousy made her secretly admit, Sam, indeed, looked like a fairy Princess.

Feelings came to Brad
in waves.
 
Silently he prayed Bernie
would not leave them alone for the fortitude gathered to keep from sweeping Sam
into his arms had vanished.

           
Sam could not ignore Brad's unmistakable
predatory smile or his sparkling white teeth making his skin appear darker than
remembered.
 
A white turtleneck sweater
hugging his upper torso rode the waves of muscles rippling beneath when he
stood to move toward her.
 
Although he
had lost weight, his unaffected bulging thighs stretched the material of black
dress slacks.
 
Wind swept hair created
heaps of waves and curls leaving stray ringlets swathing his brow.
 

           
Controlling her feelings was
difficult enough, meeting his eyes impossible, skirmishing sensations leaving
her weak and shaking left poise and self-confidence as invisible as the
wind.
 
She gulped down a sizable portion
of anxiety cautioning her to turn and run. Vibrating from the mixture of fear
and excitement his presence emanated, Sam wondered how a mere friend could
induce such wild, exotic feelings.
 
Somehow managing to gain control, she welcomed him.
 

           
Maintaining an appropriate distance,
they exchanged a friendly handshake, Brad's face suffused with such tenderness
Bernie's heart went out to him.
 
The rays
of their similar smiles, displacing the chill once inhabiting the room making
her suddenly feel warm all over.
 

           
When Sam immediately explained Ted's
absence, Bernie questioned whether Sam witnessed the flash of hostility in
Brad's eyes.
 
Exchanging interrogating
looks, Bernie and Brad secretly wondered if the other knew Stacy accompanied
him on the trip.

           
Savoring the picturesque view of
Manhattan's year round explosion of lights
 
adding to the gaiety of the season, the threesome sat by the elongated
windows feasting on delicacies and exchanging casual conversation.
  
Brad's gift of Chardonnay served to loosen
their humor creating laughter making their heads shake, eyes water and noses
and cheeks turn red.
 
They teased and
joked, their jesting good-natured, and when the clock struck twelve, three
glasses tingled together as if toasting the doorbell chiming anew.

Brad took leave to
answer the door, his surprised greeting drawing Sam and Bernie's undivided
attention.
 
‘‘Peter!
 
What a pleasant surprise.
 
Come in.
 
Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,
Brad,” Peter said, his eyes sheepishly sweeping over the women before returning
to his host.
 
“I'm sorry.
 
I didn't mean to interrupt.”

Brad placed a hand on
Peter's shoulder as if to keep him from bolting.
 
“Don't be ridiculous.
 
Let me take your coat.
 
Won't you join us in a holiday drink?”

Peter's face filled
with a touching melancholy.
 
“No, thank
you.
  
I do not plan to stay long.
 
Assuming Bernie would be here, I wanted to see
her.”

           
Thinking it strange she was having
all she could do to keep from running to Peter, Bernie concentrated on slow
steps to conceal her euphoria while approaching to offer her hand in
welcome.
 
To her dismay, her voice came
out too low, too seductive, too full of emotion.
 
“Hello . . . Peter.
 
Merry . . . Christmas.”
  
The message she read in Peter's eyes, in his
expression, more than she ever dreamed possible.
 
She blinked back the moisture threatening to
expose her elation.

           
Lifting
Bernie's hand to his mustached lips, Peter placed a kiss.
 
Refusing to let go, he looked beyond her at
Sam and Brad. “I wonder if I may speak to Bernie lone.” Quickly Sam assured
him, “Why certainly.”

           
Standing
too quickly caused little stars to burst in front of Sam’s eyes.
 
She felt dizzy a bit wobbly and began to
giggle.
 
Brad's strong hand offered
immediate support. “Are you alright, Princess?’

Her fingers veiled an
impish grin, “Of course!
 
Too much
holiday cheer I think.
 
The wine was the
best I have ever tasted.
 
Thank you. ”

           
Clinging to her half empty glass,
she grabbed Brad's hand with the other.
 
As it disappeared into his large palm the weakness in her knees
worsened.
  
Though Brad knew, Sam wouldn’t
have touched him if it wasn’t for the buzz she was feeling, he did not resist
her tugging him into the kitchen.
 
Her
hand sending seductive, feminine warmth racing up his arm peaked at his brow
where beads of moisture formed.

Wearing a searing,
conspirators smile, she closed the kitchen door leaning against it.
 
“I believe Mr. Keller has been smitten by the
love bug.
 
It serves him right.”

           
With slow, uneven steps, she
staggered to the counter Brad following close behind, Sam stopping abruptly
almost making them collide.
 
“I'm fine,
for heaven's sake.
 
Don't worry about
me.
 
It's just these damn shoes.”
 
Assuming they were to blame for her
unsteadiness, she kicked them off.
 
Continuing to sip her wine, she cleared the counter.

           
Grinning, Brad replied, “If you say
so.”
 
Chuckling inwardly, he knew it
would not be long before she’d feel the results of too much celebrating.
 
She had consumed more than he’d ever seen her
drink.
 
Wondering if she was one to pass
out, he remained close by.

           
Purposely keeping her back to Brad,
she finished her drink.
 
Opening the
dishwasher to begin loading dishes, her voice startled him.
 
“Well, what do you think, Brad?”

Completely puzzled,
he answered, “About what, Princess?”