A ruling passion : a novel (6 page)

He held out his hand and she took it and they walked down the short hallway. "Oh, wait." Valerie stopped him again. "Your roommates."

"They won't be here; Bill is out of town and Ted is at his girl's place."

"Musical chairs," she said with a laugh, and led him into his room. In the stark light of an angled hi-tech lamp, it seemed crowded, though it held only a single bed not much wider than the sofa in the living room, a tall, old-fashioned bureau, and an ancient rolltop desk with a swivel chair. A fine Zapotec rug almost covered the floor, and books were everywhere, on the floor, on the furniture, on the win-dowsills. Nick swept a pile off the bed, turned the lamp to the wall to soften its glare, and drew Valerie to him. "If you close your eyes, you can pretend ifs the Ritz."

"I don't want the BJtz. You wouldn't be there."

"Not yet," he agreed and kissed her, his hands sliding her dress off her shoulders. He undressed her smoothly, easily, and Valerie felt a flash of relief that he was not, after all, inexperienced. There were times when he could have fooled me, she thought wryly, but the thought was fleeting; he had pulled off his clothes and they were holding each other, skin touching skin, the full lengths of their bodies curving together, the pounding of his heart feeling to Valerie as if it were her own. She met his eyes and they lay together on the bed.

"Valerie," Nick murmured; his voice was deep, saying her name slowly, sensuously, as if he were tasting it, as if he were breathing it. "You are so incredibly beautiful." His lips slid slowly along her throat to her breasts, kissing them, drawing the nipples up with his tongue, and then, together, they discovered each other with hands and mouths and twined legs, every touch and every movement a way of drawing out their discoveries, Nick looking down into Valerie's eyes, then Valerie looking down upon him, laughing at the tight maneuvers required on his monastic bed. "Making love to you is a real cliffhanger," she said mischievously as she barely stopped herself from falling off the

edge. "I'm never sure where I'll be dangling next."

Momentarily unnerved, Nick's hands stilled, and he looked at her through half-closed eyes. He was the one who felt unsure. None of the women he had known had laughed and joked in bed, and he had always been as serious and silent as they. It was as if they all had learned some rule that said lightheartedness could never be part of romance and passion.

He'd taken it for granted. Now he wondered if Valerie's laughter meant she was bored, and laughed to spice up the moment. Or perhaps she never took anything seriously, no matter what it was. Damn it, she'll take me seriously, he thought, and, at that moment, Valerie bent over him.

"No thinking allowed," she said. "Maybe later, but not now. Now is for this." She kissed him with a long, slow kiss, her tongue moving in a lazy dance with his. "And this." Her tongue moved to the hollow of his throat in small circles that burned into him. She could feel the heat of his skin on her lips and beneath her hands and breasts as she brushed against him while moving her tongue in slow circles down his body. She loved the feel of him; he was more muscular than she had thought, and his skin was almost as smooth as a boy's. An athlete's body, she thought, and a brain that thinks too much.

She gave a low laugh that whispered against him like a warm spring breeze. "What?" he asked.

She looked up at him. "I'm having such a wonderful time."

He laughed, as much starded as pleased. Of course she wasn't bored; he'd never really thought so. But, damn it, he wanted her to concentrate on him and on their lovemaking. Roughly, he lifted her and laid her back on the bed. He held her firmly, his mouth caressing the length of her body as hers had caressed him, his tongue probing in strokes that drew her up, all her senses, all her feelings, to a single point that was the place where they met: his tongue, her flesh, their pleasure. The only sounds were their breathing, and the whispering of their names.

And when he was inside her it was as if they had always known this was how they would be together. Valerie met his eyes and laughed deep in her throat as she drew his mouth to hers, and Nick knew it was all right, it was perfect, because this joining was only one of so many they already had made between them, so many ways they already were a part of each other, and Valerie's laughter was essential to that, to the joy they found together and could not contain, and would

always have. He would learn to laugh with her, he thought, and never again desire her silence.

When at last they lay still, Nick kissed her smiling lips and closed eyes, and she held his face between her hands, bringing his mouth once more to hers. "I knew we didn't need the Ritz," she murmured.

In a moment, he sat up beside her. He looked about the tiny room, then back to Valerie's slim form, curved like an ivory flower on the rumpled bed, her tawny hair fanned out around her slender face. He was jubilant and keyed up with anticipation, because he had found exacdy what he wanted, and now everything was possible.

"We'll get to the Ritz too, one of these days," he said, "just to see if it makes a difference." He leaned down and kissed her breast. "I'm going to the kitchen, to put together our dinner." He grinned. "Better than a dinner: ifs a feast." From a dresser drawer he took a striped pajama top and handed it to her. "The new oversize look. You'll be spectacular in it; you're spectacular in everything. Then we'll eat, and talk about what we're going to do tomorrow." He pulled on his robe and paused in the doorway. "And every tomorrow after that," he added and then he was gone.

Chapter 3

/79

■ M / ybille left the station late and drove back to the

V_^K^ campus through the Palo Alto traffic with the

^1 ^^ recklessness of a native. In fact she didn't feel at

W ^^r home in California any more than she did any

other place, even Baltimore, where she'd grown

up. She had always wanted to live somewhere else, the Eastern Shore

where her mother's rich clients lived, or New York, or California. But

when she got to Palo Alto, she didn't want that either; she wanted to

live in the hills where the wealthy were. Never once had she found a

place where she felt she belonged.

She parked her car in an illegal but unobtrusive spot near her apartment, front end in, so the KNEX-TV sticker in her back window would be visible and look official. She always parked in this small spot, ever since her second year when she moved to an attic apartment in a private home just off campus, cleaning house in exchange for her rent. The parking place was in the alley, just big enough for her microscopic Fiat, and she had never gotten a ticket. Luck or skill, Sybille thought as she locked the doors. Not that it really matters which it is; I need both.

Her dress for the evening was laid out on the bed; she had ironed it that morning before going to class. Her shoes stood below the narrow, slitted skirt; her underclothes were on the bed nearby; and the scent of gardenia filled the room. She had bought herself a corsage.

Valerie had told her most of the women wouldn't have flowers since it wasn't a black-tie dinner, but it was Sybille's first party off campus, and she was so excited she had to do something extravagant. So she bought one gardenia and wore it pinned to the short emerald-green jacket that went with her green-and-gold dress. Her mother had made the dress for a special occasion; this was the first time she would wear it. She stood before the small mirror over the bureau, turning and twisting to see all parts of herself It always bothered her that she wasn't tall and willowy. Stand tall, she told herself Head high. I'm Valerie Ashbrook's guest and I'm going to dinner at the home of Thos Carlyle, who owns KNEX-TV and probably has no idea I work for him, and I'll be meeting people who are really important. And if I do things right, someday I'U be invited there on my own, not because Valerie thought I was a charity case. I'll be invited because I'll be as important as the rest of them.

Precisely at seven o'clock she was in fi-ont of the house, where Valerie had said she would pick her up. She stood there, near the curbing, feet together, head high, for twenty minutes, until a black limousine pulled to a smooth stop beside her and Valerie opened the back door. "Goodness, you're prompt."

"Did I get the time wrong.>" Sybille gave a swift glance at the dark-blue velvet interior of the car, and instantly memorized it. A small bar and telephone were at one side, a television set was on the other. Valerie, she saw, was wearing black, simpler than her own dress, more stylish, more sophisticated. "I thought you said seven."

"I did; I'm late. Somehow I couldn't get myself organized."

"Oh." No apology, Sybille noted, and wondered if that was the way Valerie always behaved. She saw so little of her on campus, and she knew none of her friends; maybe all of them were casual about things like being on time. Even the invitation to the party had been casual; they had run into each other in the library a few days before and when Sybille mentioned KNEX, Valerie said she knew the owner. "He and his wife are giving a dinner party and they told me to bring a friend; would you like to meet him?" Just that easily, Sybille was on the guest list for Thos Carlyle's dinner.

The driver drove toward the hiUs. "I thought you drive a Mercedes sports car," Sybille said. "Is this your limousine?"

"Lord, no, who wants a boat like this? This is Thos's. He doesn't like the idea of young ladies driving up to the hills alone at night, especially me, since he and my parents are so close. He probably told them he'd keep an eye on me, and he's such a gallant gentleman, I don't argue."

"But why would you?" Sybille asked. "It's wonderful."

"Well, for one thing, we go at the driver's speed, instead of mine. Tell me whafs happening at the station. I heard someone got fired."

"He wasn't fired, he's going to the network. It's the greatest thing in the world for him. How do stories get around so fast? It only happened a couple of days ago."

"Oh, this place is so small, and people love to be bearers of news, good or bad. Is that something you want—to go to the network?"

"Of course; what else would I want? It's where everything happens. All the things I'm doing are to get there as fast as I can."

Valerie stirred in her seat, uncomfortable, as always, with intensity. "How can you have it so settled? All laid out, like a roadmap. Nick is like that; he's got it all figured out, where he's going, how he's going to get there, what he'll do when he's there. He's not as fierce about it as you are, but both of you sound sort of like sergeants: charge the hill, don't look left or right until you get to the top. Don't you ever relax and just have a good time?"

"You're jealous," Sybille said shrewdly.

There was the briefest pause, then Valerie laughed. "Guess again. I'm not an onward-and-upward type."

Sybille glanced out the window. They were in the hills overlooking Palo Alto, winding up slopes covered with the lush green and brilliant gardens of March. It was hard to believe, she thought, that by late summer, weeks of dry weather would have turned all this to a pale yellow-brown. She looked at the houses they passed, sprawling cedar and stone, set into the hills, and wondered what Valerie thought of them. Did these magnificent houses look small and ordinary to her? Did she think about living up here; about how free someone would feel with a house on one of these hills, looking down on the town and the peninsula, all the way to the bay? Or did she think it was just another nice neighborhood, not nearly as exciting as some of the others she could choose from, anywhere in the world?

Everything she wants, she gets, Sybille thought.

"I've been waiting for you and Nick to come to the station," she said, turning back to Valerie.

"We've talked about it; we just haven't had time. Maybe when I do the pitch for the antique-auto show."

"That's next week."

"I'll tell him about it." The limousine followed a curve in the road. "It's just a few minutes from here; let me tell you about some of the people you'll be meeting." Valerie listed some names with brief descriptions, and Sybille stored them away. "It's not fair to throw them at you all at once, but you'll sort them out when you're there."

"I'll remember," Sybille said. "Thanks." She tried to think of other words, other ways to thank Valerie for the evening. Why was it so hard for her to be grateful to Valerie? It always had been, from the time they met, when they were five and Valerie asked her if she wanted to go for a swim in their pool. "Will Nick be here tonight?" she asked, to break her silence.

"No, he has to work. It's just as well; he doesn't much like these dinners. This is the third time in the last two weeks he's turned me down when I've invited him."

"Is this really good, the two of you? More than just dating, I mean. Really... close?"

Valerie's eyebrows rose, and with a sinking feeling Sybille knew she had committed a serious blunder: she had no right to ask such a question. It would be a long time before Valerie confided in her again, even a litde bit. "This is the house," Valerie said as the limousine turned into a driveway. She glanced at Sybille. "My God, you look as if you're going to the dentist. Listen, these are just nice ordinary people; you're not afiraid of them, are you?"

"No, of course not. I just don't do this very often."

"You'll be terrific," Valerie said, and her voice was so natural Sybille knew she wasn't faking to make her feel better. 'Tou're very pretty and you've got a lot to talk about and there's something about you... Nick saw it; he said you were strong and very sure of what you want. People like that, especially men. You'll be fine, really; you haven't got a thing to worry about."

Sybille felt a rush of gratitude. "Thanks."

"Let's go, then," Valerie said, and Sybille followed her out of the car. Just believe her, she told herself; why would she lie? But Sybille had never been able to accept a compliment gracefully. She always wondered if there was a catch somewhere.

She followed Valerie with her usual quick step. "Have a good time," Valerie said at the door and Sybille nodded, but still, as she walked