Experiment In Love (3 page)

They were parked in front of her apartment house in less than fifteen minutes. Granted, those had been the longest minutes of silence since the evening had begun, but it had been companionable.

Suddenly she was stiff, not wanting the evening to end, but not knowing what conclusions he’d draw if she offered to extend it. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” Her voice sounded high-pitched and strained even to her own ears.

“I was hoping you’d ask.”

When they reached the apartment door, Kurt took the key from her hand and slipped it into the lock, then stood back to allow her entrance. A true gentleman.

Victoria quickly flipped on the overhead lights, and then made a beeline toward the kitchen, plugging in the coffeemaker and going through the almost automatic motions of every morning’s routine. When she was done she turned to find him leaning against the doorjamb, his arms crossed,
his stance lazy. The living-room lights behind him were glowing a dim gold, letting her know he had rearranged the situation to fit his idea of a seduction scene. Somehow she knew he wasn’t as relaxed as he looked.

“Come here,” he said softly in a burlap-rough voice that played on her nerve endings.

Slowly she walked toward him, hesitantly, knowing what was going to happen. She suddenly wanted his touch almost as badly as his dark chocolate-brown eyes told her he wanted to hold her.

His arms enfolded her slim form, bringing his hard firm body in direct contact with hers. His legs were spread wide to block the doorway, forcing her to lean against him to keep her balance. One hand came up and gently slipped off her overlarge glasses.

“I think we can dispense with these now. You won’t need them.”

She lifted her eyes, standing passively in his arms, as he leisurely surveyed her face. Then his lips came down and slowly brushed hers, tentatively, hesitantly, until he felt her response. His arms tightened perceptibly, one hand twining in her hair to hold her head while the other captured her waist to tease the small of her back and send warmth through her dazed limbs. A torrent of mixed emotions rushed through her body, sending scrambled responses back to her numbed brain. She had never been so affected by a man before.
Never. And it frightened her beyond belief. Always in charge, Vicky hadn’t believed in the possibility of being swept off her feet by any man...until now.

“You’re so sweet-tasting.” His voice was rough, sensuous, gliding against the nerves in her ears to heighten the taut pitch of her body. His tongue explored the warmth of her mouth and suddenly she was responding, no longer tense and alert, but instead, she felt fluid and feverish.

His hand slowly glided down to her shoulder, resting lightly and hesitating only a second before slipping further to capture a breast, teasing the nipple to taut attention as she arched invitingly toward his touch.

Her emotions swirled. Bells rang in her ears and flashes of brilliant light played in front of her eyes.
Heat tornadoed inside her belly, creating a want that tore her usual restraints aside.

She had always made fun of women who swore that fireworks really did happen, especially after reading descriptions in dozens of books. It had never seemed to be a remote possibility . . . until now. She relaxed against him, her body blending perfectly with his. His lips, tongue and hands were telling her he had the same reaction as they melded their bodies together in the doorway. Finally he broke the kiss and she leaned her head against his solid chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt and hearing his erratic heartbeat. Slowly their hearts resumed an almost normal rhythm in cadence with each other.

He cupped her breast in his hand. “So nice, so sweet and sensitive,” he growled in her ear. “I like that.”

Victoria raised her head, continuing where he had left off. She nibbled on his full lower lip, spreading kisses along his strong jawline, burrowing her head into his neck. Her legs felt weak, her body strangely boneless. And certainly she had never felt so confidently assertive in her whole life.

“Why?” she murmured between kisses.

His eyes turned a dark golden hue as he stared down at her small heart-shaped face. Dimples bloomed in both her cheeks as she pursed her lips to give another feather-light kiss to the comer of his mouth. Her hair had become ruffled and her eyes glittered with passion.

“I don’t know,” was his only answer, surprising even himself. He had always gone out with more heavily endowed women, whether by chance or choice he wasn’t certain. But he liked
this
woman just the way she was, slim, lithe, small-boned.

“Whatever the reason, I’m pleased that you’re pleased, because there’s not a thing I can do about changing.” She chuckled throatily.

The coffeepot finally finished perking and the silence covered them like a warm blanket. “I love your aftershave. I’ve never smelled that scent before.” She twined her arms around his neck, playing with his hair, slipping a small nail around the curvature of his ear.

“It’s a special brand.” His finger outlined the curve of her lips and she opened them willingly for him to feel the moistness.

“I thought only women had scents made up for them.”

His mouth hovered just above hers, teasing her with his nearness. “Men sometimes do it too.”

Her lips formed the word oh and it was just the perfect word for him to kiss away.

The tip of his tongue traced the outline of her lips, exactly where his finger had been; then, with aching slowness, he pierced her mouth, seeking the deeper response she was totally willing to give. The erotic scent of his aftershave mixed with his definitely masculine smell. His slightly moist kiss, his gentle but firm touch, were the most erotic Victoria had ever felt.

His mouth moved downward, trailing over her chin to her slim neck and then to the small sharp vee of her dress, pulling it aside so he could reach the tender swell of her breasts. His hands were lightly touching all over her body, teasing here, taunting there, a ghost of crowing heat remaining where he had been, a fire stirring where his hands had moved. His soothing mouth and hands were persuading her to do things she had never thought to do before. Suddenly nothing seemed as important as this. All she wanted was him, and for this to go on forever.

Kurt took her hand, his eyes searching out the small darkened hallway to her room. “Let’s go to your room and finish this,” he murmured huskily, his other hand stroking her neck. “I’m too old to make love in kitchens. We can drink coffee later, when we’re both ready for it.”

The mist slowly dissolved for Victoria. She clearly saw the scene as someone else would see it and it looked shabby. How could she explain that this wasn’t her regular routine? That she normally didn’t advertise in singles papers and then go to bed with every guy who answered her ad? She couldn’t. “I’m afraid not, Kurt.”

He looked at her, eyebrows raised in derision. “Are we playing cat and mouse games? I thought you were an up-front person, one who expected others to say what they want, and not what’s dictated by society.”

“I am an up-front person, but that doesn’t mean I slip in and out of bed with total strangers.” Her brown eyes flashed in defense, ignoring the underlying sense of disappointment she felt. Why should she have thought he was any different from the rest of the men she knew? But she had.

“I wasn’t accusing you of that, Vicky. I was accusing you of games.” His hands stroked her arms lightly, his warm brown eyes playing across the features of her face before taking in the slim but well-shaped figure hidden beneath her dowdy clothing.

“I’m not playing games. What you see is what you get.” She stood firm.

One masculine brow rose. “Your outlandish costume says you are.” His arms dropped to his sides, a distant and cool look in his eyes. “I don’t get it. You advertise in a singles newspaper that you’re looking for the right guy, knowing you’d be asked to come across sometime.”

“And also knowing I wouldn’t.” She took a deep breath, reaching for an explanation. “Asking and doing are two different things. I just wanted to meet guys, I wasn’t looking for a bed partner. I don’t know you well enough to, to...” Her voice faded off as she realized just how juvenile that sounded in a cosmopolitan city like Los Angeles where people met and went to bed in the space of an hour, let alone waiting five!

“You want me. You respond to me. We both know that.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ll go to bed with you. It means that my body is willing, but my spirit won’t let me.”

He
stiffened, his face rock-hard and implacable. “I see. You’re a thrill seeker who advertises, but doesn’t follow through.” His eyes narrowed speculatively. “Or is it just my honor that you won’t besmirch? Am I the odd man out because you respond too well to my touch and it frightens you?”

“Of course not!”

“Then why advertise?”

It was time to turn the tables. Two could get just as angry as one. “Why did you advertise? You could get a hundred dates with your looks, and yet here you are, dating me.”

He looked away, his eyes gliding toward the bright cheery posters on the wall. “It was just an experiment.”

“Experiment?
Well, that’s what it was for me, too.” She turned away from him, walking toward the front door and holding it open to allow him to exit. “But the experiment is over and it’s time for you to go home.”

“Dammit, Victoria!
Shut that door and give me an explanation of what’s going on!” He ran an agitated hand through his hair, staring at her in baffled anger.

“Please go.
Now.” Her hand shook as she turned the knob, but she wouldn’t let him see how upset she was.

He strode toward the outer hall, hesitating only when he reached her side. “This serves me right.” he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough for her to hear.

His steps echoed down the passageway and toward the elevator. Victoria listened quietly, afraid to move until she was sure he was gone. When the grinding of the old, rickety cables announced his departure, she gave a sigh. So much for date number three, she told herself. And now it was time to wipe him out of her mind. She refused to accept the fact that he had made her feel like no other man ever had. This wasn’t the time for introspection — this was research. Something told her to stay away from him; he was too volatile a mixture for her chemistry. She determinedly forced him out of her mind. Bending down, she slipped off her shoes. For looking so comfortable they sure caused blisters! Then she whistled her way to the bathroom. A warm bath with a good book and a glass of wine would do wonders for her.

Why were all the good-looking, dynamic men either taken or taken up with their own prowess? She wouldn’t admit, even to herself, that she had gone merrily along with his game plan without resistance right up to the last minute.

Victoria quickly shed the ugly blue dress and allowed her hair complete freedom while the bathwater ran. She glanced in the now steamy bathroom mirror, surveying her body as a man would see it.  Her waist was slim, her hips only slightly fuller, her breasts were a nice average size, but certainly not voluptuous. Did he expect every woman to fall into his lap, so to speak? Or was she so ugly and eager already that he had decided she wasn’t worth an all-out effort? Somehow that hurt more than any other thought.

CHAPTER THREE

Victoria woke up the following morning with a heavy pressure in her head. Had she slept more than a wink all night? She had faithfully promised herself that she would block any thought about Kurt Wentworth, yet there were so many pieces to the puzzle of the man that she couldn’t put together.

His letter said he loved motorcycles, yet he had seemed totally surprised when she’d mentioned the subject. He had rented a car, but if it was to impress her, why rent a two-year-old Ford? He spent money for excellent food, but he went to a completely out-of-the-way restaurant. His clothing was expensive, but bought off the rack, while his aftershave was blended especially for him. He acted like the typical California swinging single, but his conversation was concise and to the point, with none of the slang Victoria was used to hearing from the average male. His thoughts were accurate; he was well read and up to date on all the current news, domestic and foreign. Most of all, he was handsome as the devil, dripped with sex appeal, knew how to make love expertly and beautifully — but he advertised in a dating newspaper.

None of it made sense.

If he wasn’t what he claimed to be, then what was he?

Her mind whirled with possibilities but she discarded them all as she tried to dissect the man. Nothing gave her an answer that she could accept.

Finally she got dressed. Grabbing her notes on hotels that laid claim to having ghosts, she began the newest article assigned to her. If she did nothing else today she’d get through a first draft. Her checkbook told her she needed this money more than she needed to figure out Kurt Wentworth. After all, she had failed miserably as an interviewer last night, telling him more of her own opinions and asking fewer questions than she had ever done before in her life.

What had gotten into her that she had let the evening slip by without getting the facts she needed for her article? Irritation raised its ugly head, but she wasn’t sure if she was exasperated with him or with herself!

She resolutely aimed her thoughts and energy toward the computer so she could make sense of the notes at hand.

***

Kurt was at work early the next morning and for the first time in his life was in no hurry to tackle his enormous load of paperwork. As he strode through the wide glass doors and into the lobby of the Newstime building, he unconsciously searched the crowd for a long-haired, big-eyed, slim but dowdily dressed young woman. He didn’t even realize what he was doing until he found himself leaning against the far wall, watching the door expectantly.

He shook the placid expression from his face, more for his own benefit than anyone else’s, and walked with a determined gait toward the closest elevator. Some
of the women gave him a sultry eye, while others smiled invitingly. None of them seemed to have sense enough not to make themselves blatantly obvious.

He forced his mind to turn to today’s business commitments. A guilty conscience made him promise himself that he would give Julie a treat tonight, perhaps take her to that disco she’d been raving about. She was young and a starlet, and wanted to be seen by the right crowd. It wasn’t Kurt’s idea of a good time, but perhaps it would take his mind off…other things.

Much later that night he stared out at the bobbing boats in the harbor, their small twinkling lights forming a hazy pattern on the softly rolling waves. He glanced into his watery scotch and wondered why he even bothered to see Julie anymore, let alone pay the exorbitant bills she considered it necessary to incur. Her dress tonight, a deep green strapless jersey that clung like glue to show off her curves, was worthy of the body it encased, but the effect it had on him was nil. Her long red nails had clung tenaciously to his arm all night. Her hands could have been wrapped around his throat he felt so suffocated by her nearness. He had finally loosened her grip and walked away to discuss the upcoming football season with a few of the other men before taking her home and leaving her there — alone.

What was wrong with him? He had everything a man could ask for: a corporation prestigious enough to be listed in Dun & Bradstreet; great properties across the country that actually made money by renting it out instead of letting it sit empty; a charming, if clinging, mistress; time to do what he wanted…

To do what he wanted was the key phrase. Without thinking he reached for the phone and dialed the number written on the pad “Hello, Victoria? This is Kurt.”

Her voice was hazy with sleep.
“Kurt who?”

“Kurt — uh, Wentworth.
We went out to an Italian restaurant the other night.” He sounded impatient.

“And you decided you needed to call and reminisce about a first date at three in the morning?” She pushed back the hair that had fallen across her face, slowly sitting up and turning on the small bedside lamp to double check the time. She was right.

“I decided to call and apologize.” His voice held a tinge of humor. “And now I find out I must apologize, again, for the time. I’ll call you again tomorrow. Sweet dreams. Goodnight.”

“Wait a minute!” Vicky exclaimed, now sitting straight up and wide awake. “Now that I’m up, you might as well continue.”

His husky chuckle resounded in her ear and a small tremor feathered down her spine to thread through her veins and warm her insides. “I just wanted to say hello and that I’m sorry for my boorishness. I’m afraid I assumed too much.”

“Right.” she stated. “And I accept your apology.” She rested the phone on her shoulder and hugged her knees, suddenly feeling totally happy.

“Am I forgiven?”

“Of course.”

“Enough for you to go out with me again?”

“Yes.”

Kurt chuckled. “If you had answered my question like that the other night I wouldn’t have to be apologizing now,” he teased.

“If I had answered your question like that you’d still be here,” she retorted.

“Are you that sure of your staying power?”

“I’m that sure of yours.”

“So I did get through that Victorian shield of yours!”

“Victorian!" she shrieked indignantly. “You’re the one who’s a mass of contradictions!”

Suddenly he sounded wary. “What do you mean?”

“I’ll discuss it with you the next time we meet.”

“Tomorrow at eight.”

“Sorry. I have a date then.”

“He sighed. “The next night, same time.”

“No can do. But the night after is free.”

He was surprised at his feeling of irritation. “Who with?” he snapped without bothering to hide his sudden feelings.

“No one you know. Is it a date or not?” She waited for his reply, trying to keep her heart from thumping into the phone.

“See you then.” His voice softened. “Oh, Victoria?”

“Yes?” She held her breath.

“Buy a new dress, one with a little style. The last one was definitely not you.”

He hung up, smiling to himself. She had a lovely voice, even on the phone. His mind conjured up a picture of her as she had looked that night in his arms. Her eyes had been wide with discovery, her face flushed to a becoming pink. Her hair was loose, silky and flowed like dark soft rainwater through his fingers…

He gulped down the remainder of his drink and walked briskly into the bedroom. Suddenly he was happy, but tired. What he needed was a good night’s sleep.

***

Victoria was impatient for Kurt to show up. She had dressed in a plain black cotton sheath with a V-neck and a hint of gray lace at the edge of the short sleeve and hem. Her hair was simple; long and sleek hanging down her back. She could see her reflection in the mirror and was pleased. She didn’t ask herself too many probing questions concerning her feelings for Kurt Wentworth. Nothing mattered at this point but that he enjoy her company as much as she did his – enough to answer some questions for her article. That was a lie: She couldn’t have cared less about the article at this point. She wanted to see Kurt again. Period.

Victoria jumped nervously when the doorbell rang, and then reminded
herself to walk sedately toward it as if he could see her through the wooden door.

Her smile soon turned to surprise, however, when she found her uncle standing in the hallway with a sheepish smile.

“Hi, honey. Can I come in for a minute?” She grinned at his hesitancy, thinking that it looked like being there was the last thing he wanted to do. She tried to lighten his spirit by curtsying to allow him entrance.

“Of course.
When my favorite uncle and landlord calls he’s always welcome,” she teased, giving his arm a squeeze as he walked by. “What’s the matter, Uncle Jake? You look lost.”

He sat uncomfortably on the edge of the sofa, his glance taking in the small room. “Honey, I don’t know how to tell you this, and I wouldn’t bring it up unless I had no choice. You know that, don’t you?” He begged her to understand and she automatically nodded, wondering what in heaven’s name he was talking about.

“They say sharing a problem cuts it in half, so tell me what’s the matter.” She sat across from him, concern showing in her eyes.

“I, uh, I have to raise the monthly rent, honey. The roof needs fixing and so does the plumbing, and unless I can raise the rent I won’t be able to cover the payments on the second mortgage I need.” His eyes skipped around the room again before landing somewhere around her shoulder. “I waited as long as I could, but you know how it is. I’m in a bind, and you often said that the apartment was more than reasonable. And with today’s prices …” His voice dwindled away uncertainly.

“Good grief,” she muttered under her breath, suddenly seeing herself being unable to live within her budget, even if she could find a full-time job.

“It’s either that or maybe you could find another place to live, one where the landlord doesn’t have so many problems keeping up with inflation.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, honey.”

She reached over and patted his hand. “I know you are, and it can’t be helped. You’ve been a rock these past years, Uncle Jake. It’s my fault for not seeing it coming and preparing for it. I knew this rent was too good to last but I just went blithely on my way.’’ She turned over a multitude of alternatives in her mind, but she couldn’t find a quick and sure answer so she asked the one question that crowded out every other. “How much more rent money do you need?”

He named a figure and Victoria just closed her eyes. It wasn’t an outrageous sum, but there was no way she could fit that into her existing budget or find an extra job to cover it. She was sunk. There was no question he could easily command that price for her apartment — correction, his apartment — but it still put her out into the street. She decided to test the firmness of the ground gently. “You know you could probably ask my mother for the money and she’d get it for you.”

He stiffened his already straight spine, his eyes snapping coldly. “No!” was his only answer.

She sighed, patting his hand to tell him that she understood. After all, she could probably ask her mother for her extra rent money and get it, but that wasn’t her way. She hadn’t tried to make it on her own over the past seven years, doing without if she had to, just to ask for money now. Uncle Jake and she thought alike.
Never.

“When do you want me to move?” She looked up at her uncle and suddenly felt sorry for him. He didn’t like this any better than she did but that didn’t help the immediate problem.

“I can give you the rest of this month, Honey, but that’s about it.”

“Three weeks,” she muttered under her breath, quickly figuring out her daily calendar and realizing that her budget might not even get her that far. “Don’t worry. I’ll think of something. It’s not your problem, Uncle Jake.”

His expression was so hang-dog that she wanted to laugh, but she was afraid she just might loosen a tear and then he’d really be upset “If you can’t find anything by then, perhaps you could move in with me. I’ve always got the couch,” he offered, but she knew the old poker buddies who played at her uncle’s house a couple of times a week wouldn’t take to that idea very well.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure I can work something out. There’s bound to be someone who needs a roommate to share a reasonable rent,” she assured him with more bravado than she felt. Something had to break – and soon, or she’d be going home with her tail between her legs and begging her mother to take her back. She’d never live that one down.
Ever.

Five minutes after her Uncle Jake left, the doorbell rang again. All the excitement she had felt earlier was now gone and she answered it absentmindedly, waving Kurt in as she tried to calm her churning thoughts.

She called over her shoulder as she walked into the small kitchen, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

“No, thanks.”

She poured herself one and stood at the kitchen sink, her mind whirling like a tornado.

What’s the matter?” he asked after a few minutes of almost total silence.

For the first time since he had arrived she looked, really looked, at him. He was wearing a pair of black slacks that had been molded to him and a brown silk shirt, open at the throat and rolled up at the cuffs. His hair was brushed into a studiedly casual style, his eyes crinkling into a slow smile.