Tender Deception: A Novel of Romance (19 page)

“Perhaps some more champagne?”

“No...just talk to me. Tell me about yourself, Kirk. I—I feel shy with you because I don’t know you very well. You’re not an easy person to know. Do you realize that?”

He laughed. “Yes, so I’ve been told. I’ve been accused of being cold and distant.”

She was silent for a moment, mulling over his words. “I’m not sure if I’d describe you that way,” she said slowly, “though you certainly are reserved and a private person, not all that easy to get to know. But why do you think you give some people the impression that you’re cold and distant?”

“Why? I’m not sure. Perhaps because life made me that way. Don’t you think we’re the kind of people we are because of the experiences we have in life?”

“I’m not sure if I agree,” she said thoughtfully. “I always had the notion that we are born with certain personality traits. You can see that in babies. They are little individuals from the moment of birth.”

“But surely what happens to them as they grow up can change them. If they are loved or not loved, if they are given opportunities or denied them, if they are sickly or robust—all of those things must have a lot to do with how they behave as adults.”

“Did it in your case, Kirk?”

“I think so. I might be a different person today if my real father had lived. He was a great guy, Lilly. He played with me, took me fishing, told wonderful stories—” His voice suddenly caught in his throat.

Lilly felt a rush of sympathy. “I hadn’t realized he played such a part in your life. I guess I was under the impression that he died before you were old enough to remember him. I don’t know where I got that idea. Perhaps because you never talked about him before.”

“It’s a painful subject for me. I’m not able to talk about it to many people. I don’t think even Jimmy knew how much I missed my real Dad. He died when I was seven. My mother remarried, and she had Jimmy when I was ten. My stepfather and I never got along. He was a stupid, unfeeling, selfish old bastard. I don’t know what my mother ever saw in him.”

“That’s why you left home and went to work in the oil fields?”

“Yes. I had to get away from that situation. You see, that’s what I mean by life shaping our personalities and character. It makes me wonder sometimes if we really have much free will. I went to work in the oil fields filled with anger. All the rage I felt toward my stepfather, the bitterness I felt at losing my real Dad, I took out in hard work. I drove myself. If anybody got in my way, I ran over them. I was determined to get back from life some of what life had taken from me.”

“You think it would have been different for you if your real father had lived?”

“Yes, I’m certain of it. My real father was a sensitive man. He didn’t have much of a formal education but he had a feeling and appreciation for beautiful things in life—nature, music, poetry. Compared to him, my stepfather was a dumb brute. Jimmy got his musical talent from our mother. When she was married to my father, she sang a lot. She had a beautiful soprano voice. My father played guitar. After she married my stepfather, Mother didn’t sing anymore. My stepfather thought music was a dumb waste of time. I wanted to learn a musical instrument. I had inherited my father’s guitar. It was the only thing he’d been able to leave me. I begged my stepfather to let me take lessons so I could learn to play it. He said it was a waste of time and money. We had a big row about it one night. He snatched up my Dad’s guitar and smashed it to pieces. I...I think in that moment I could have killed him—”

Kirk’s voice had become harsh. Lilly saw beads of perspiration on his forehead. His eyes had become as hard as polished glass.

He passed his hand over his eyes as if to wipe away an ugly picture. With a trembling hand, he reached for his glass of champagne on the nearby table and quickly downed it. When he spoke again, his voice had lost the cutting edge. “Jimmy was the one with the real musical talent. And he was smarter about dealing with his father. He didn’t lock horns with the old man head-on the way I did. He kept his music to himself, getting what he needed at school. By the time the old man found out Jimmy was musical, he’d been playing first trumpet in the school band for several years with a horn the band director provided for him.”

Now Lilly understood why Kirk was so jealous of Jimmy’s musical ability and why he envied people with artistic, creative talent. His story explained his interest in jazz, his activity in the nightclub business, promoting Jimmy’s band and wanting to do the same for Lilly’s career. Through them he was vicariously experiencing the creative experience life had denied him.

The conversation and the champagne had lulled her tension. The steel muscles in his thighs under her hips radiated his masculinity. She gradually settled more comfortably against his broad chest.

As he talked, his right hand moved gently over her thighs, caressing the delicate flesh under the gossamer fabric of her gown. His touch awakened an electric tingling throughout her body.

He pressed a button on the table near their chair and the lights in the room dimmed. Soft, romantic music filtered from a wall speaker.

With slow, deliberate movements, he undressed her. As the garments slipped from her body, Lilly’s heart pounded. Kirk’s face grew flushed. Lilly rose from his lap and moved away from him. She trembled with a fresh wave of shyness but part of the trembling grew from a thrill of knowing that the vision of her body was setting him afire.

Then she caught up her robe, put it back on and tied the sash tightly. “Please stop looking at me,” she said, red-faced. “I’m embarrassed.”

Kirk smiled. “Modesty is appealing in a woman.”

“You’re probably used to more sophisticated, liberated women. You must think me very childish.”

“Hardly childish,” he grinned, pulling her back to his lap. “A bit naïve, perhaps, but that adds to your charm.”

That night they came together more fiercely than ever before. Her body writhed, her nails raked his back. His demands of her were urgent, and she met them gladly. She gave vent to her passion with choked cries that were smothered by his kisses.

Dawn was sending soft, pink shafts through the window before their storm of passion subsided. She lay exhausted beside him. He lit a cigar. She watched the coal on its tip move above her in the semi-darkness. Her damp hair rested on his shoulder.

He talked about the house he had bought for them, about the things he had planned for them to do, about the future he had in store for her career.

She felt very secure in his arms. She listened to his voice knowing that no harm from the outside world could befall her as long as she was his wife. The harm would only come from loving him....

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The house Kirk had bought for them was ready for their occupancy the following week.

Lilly was not surprised to find the home located at Pacific Heights in a neighborhood of the most affluent residences in the city. That was Kirk Remington’s style. It was one of San Francisco’s classic Victorian structures with large, comfortable rooms and bay windows designed to capture the fleeting sunshine as well as afford a sweeping view of San Francisco bay. Nor was she surprised to find a music room furnished with a grand piano. She fell in love with the room at once and knew it would be where she would spend most of her time.

“I’m having my record library and sound system shipped from New Orleans,” Kirk told her. “We’ll have it installed in this room when it arrives.”

That first night in the house, they dined at home.

Kirk had hired an excellent cook. He prepared a delicious meal of freshly caught seafood, a crisp salad and French pastries. Lilly ate slowly, savoring every mouth-watering morsel.

After dinner, Kirk asked her to play the piano.

When she took her place at the beautiful instrument, she glanced toward the great bay window. The view it afforded was spectacular. The entire bay was spread before them. The lights of the Golden Gate Bridge twinkled through a soft, drifting fog. The only light inside the room was the shadowy, golden glow from a lighted candelabrum near the piano.

She began to play, lost in the romantic mood of the setting. Kirk sat in the shadows, sipping a brandy and watching. Although she could not see his eyes, she could sense the burning intensity of his gaze.

It was a tender moment of shared intimacy beyond the limitation of verbal communication. She let her music speak what was in her heart, her love for him, this strange, intense man that was still in part a mystery to her. She poured her heart into her melodies, thanking him for the beautiful home, the room where she could enjoy her music and the exquisite instrument that came alive under her touch. As she played, her music became a prayer, too, that somehow God would work a miracle in Kirk’s heart, making him love her the way she loved him, letting a love for her so fill him that Marie Algretto would become a ghost from his past.

An electric tension had grown in the room. Suddenly, Kirk uttered an exclamation, swept her up in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Her heart pounded with anticipation. Were her prayers being answered? Was Kirk’s desire flamed by love, or was it merely physical hunger?

Later, as she rested drowsily in his arms, Kirk said, “I wanted to make sure you’re comfortably settled here before I leave.”

Her glow of happiness chilled. She frowned. “Leave?”

“Yes, I’m going to be out of the country for about a month. I wish I could take you with me, but much of the time I’m going to be in some areas of the Mideast where the climate is brutal and the political situation is dangerous. If you need anything at all while I’m gone, all you need to do is call my office.”

Lilly felt a strange cold draft. This past week, she had been lulled into a feeling of security with Kirk. She had begun to hope that perhaps he did love her and her doubts about marrying him would fade away. Now his announcement brought a fresh concern. Why would he leave on such a long trip only a week after they were married? There was something ominous about this development. Was there more to it than he was telling her?

She said nothing, but her body grew tense. She could tell he sensed her reaction.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave at this time,” he said. “But I have no choice, Lilly. There are some pretty vital issues at stake that could affect the future of my business.”

His explanation did not reassure her. Perhaps it was her imagination, but his words seemed to have a hollow ring. Her skepticism about his motives for marrying her returned in a rush, stronger than ever. He’d gotten what he wanted. He had conquered her, had gotten her to share his bed, even if he’d had to resort to marrying her. With his ego satisfied, he was already growing restless. Getting out of a marriage would be an easy matter for a man with Kirk’s money and legal staff.

She was in the same cold frame of mind the next morning when she gave him a cold farewell.

* * * * * * *

Lilly roamed around the silent house feeling deserted and lonely. That afternoon she decided to visit the nightclub where Jimmy’s band would be playing. She had not spoken with Jimmy since they left New Orleans. She missed him and the guys in the band. Perhaps they would be rehearsing.

The nightclub, called The Landing, was located in a colorful waterfront section of the city. Lilly took a cab to the place.

When she walked through the front door, she heard a sound that caused her heart to speed up—the rich, mellow tones of a trumpet. Lilly’s high heels tapped swiftly between the tables, which were stacked with up-ended chairs. She felt a lightening of her spirits when she saw Jimmy on the bandstand. The lock of hair that he could never quite control had tumbled over his forehead. A smoking cigarette was clamped in the fingers of his left hand, which held the trumpet, while the fingers of his right hand deftly touched the pearl-covered keys of his instrument. He was running through some warm-up scales.

He finished his exercise, laid his trumpet on the piano, turned, and suddenly caught sight of her. “Lilly!” he exclaimed. He sprang down from the bandstand and walked toward her, his face wreathed in a welcoming grin.

Lilly’s heart warmed at the transformation that had come over him. Gone was the look of dull defeat from his eyes. His shoulders were no longer slumped. There was a spring in his step. He was on top of the world again.

“Jimmy!” She reached out both hands and he squeezed them warmly.

“Take a look at you!” he exclaimed, his gaze trailing down her stylish designer garments to her shoes and back to her face. “Just dig them threads! You’re dressed up like Mrs. Astor. Old brother Kirk doesn’t mind spending a few bucks. Have to give him credit for that.”

Lilly blushed. “You’re looking terrific, Jimmy.”

“Yeah. Feeling just great, Lilly. I’m off the sauce and back in the groove. Hey, just look at this joint, would you? Isn’t this something else?” He waved his arm around. “This place makes the Sho-Time Bar in New Orleans look like an upholstered sewer.”

“I’ll bet the band is excited.”

“Are they! We’ve finally arrived. We’re playing just fine, Lilly. Of course we miss the heck out of having you in the band. We found a replacement. The guy is okay, but he hasn’t got your spark.”

Lilly felt a rush of sadness, but quickly changed the subject. “Are you ready to open Friday night?”