Heartbeat (7 page)

She could hear him coming up the stairs as she thought of it, he was humming to himself, banging the tray against the door as he came through, and she could hear the stereo downstairs playing Bruce Springsteen.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” He grinned down at her in their bed, and set the tray down beside her as she stretched and smiled in answer. He was a vision of handsome young manhood. His hair was still wet from the shower he'd taken before she woke up and he was wearing fresh white tennis clothes, his long, shapely legs were tanned, and from where she lay, Steven's shoulders looked enormous.

“You know, you're pretty cute, for a guy who can cook.” She smiled up at him and propped herself up on one elbow.

“So are you, lazybones.” He sat down next to her on the bed, and she laughed at him.

“You should have seen yourself passed out here last night.”

“I had a tough day, and I was beat after we played squash.” He looked faintly embarrassed and made it up to her by kissing her promisingly just as she took a bite of bacon.

“Are you playing tennis today?” she inquired. She knew him well. He loved competitive sports, especially squash and tennis.

“Yeah. But not until eleven-thirty.” He glanced at his watch and smiled at her, and she laughed again, but before she could say anything, he had peeled off his tennis clothes and slipped into bed beside her.

“Now what's this all about, Mr. Townsend? Won't this weaken your tennis game?” She loved to tease him about his intense seriousness about his tennis.

“It might.” He looked pensive and she laughed again. And then he turned to her with a sexy smile. “But it could just be that you're worth it.”

“Could be?
Could
be? …You've got some nerve!” But he silenced her with a kiss, and a few minutes later they had both forgotten his tennis game, and half an hour later she was dozing contentedly in his arms, and he was gently stroking her shining black hair as it fell over her cheek and she purred at him. “Personally …I'd rather do that than play tennis anyday. …” She opened one eye and reached up to kiss him.

“So would I.” He stretched lazily, and an hour later he hated to get out of bed to go and shower again before he went to play with a man who lived in the complex and Steven knew only as “Harvey.”

“Are you coming back for lunch?” she inquired, and he shouted back that he'd make himself a salad when he got back, and he reminded her again about going to the Jameses' party that night at seven. But it was going to be a tight squeeze for her. She had learned the night before that she was going to have to be at work for the evening news, and then go back to be there again for the late show. It would mean dressing for the party before she went to work, and then rushing back to meet Steven at home to go to the party, or maybe even meeting him there, and then leaving at a decent hour to get to work again. But she knew the party was important to him, and she was going to join him for it no matter how hectic it made her evening. She always tried never to let Steven down, and particularly not to let her work interfere with their home life. Unlike Steven, who traveled a great deal of the time, but that just made it easier for her to work late whenever she had to.

Steven was back, dripping wet, at two o'clock, and beaming at his victory. He had easily beaten Harvey. “He's fat and out of shape, and he admitted to me after the second set that he hasn't given up smoking. The poor bastard is lucky he didn't have a heart attack on the court.”

“I hope you went easy on him,” Adrian said from the kitchen, where she had just made lemonade for him, but they both knew that he probably hadn't.

“He didn't deserve it. He's really kind of a jerk.” She had his salad ready, too, and she put both in front of him and told him she'd have to go to work before they went out, but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't even seem to mind it when she told him she had to go in for the late show. “That's okay. I can catch a ride home with someone else. You can take my car.”

“I can even come back and pick you up.” She looked apologetically at him. “I'm really sorry. If there weren't people out and the producer weren't sick. …”

“No problem. As long as you can make it for a while, that's fine.”

She looked at him questioningly then as he ate the salad she had made for him. “Why is this party so important to you, sweetheart? Something big going on I don't know about?” Maybe another important promotion.

He looked mysterious for a moment and then he grinned at her. “If everything goes all right tonight, I might get the IMFAC account, or at least I'll get a shot at it. I got some inside information last week that they're unhappy with their current agency and they're looking around quietly. I gave them a call, and Mike was really excited about it. He might even let me fly out to Chicago on Monday to see them.”

“My God, that's an enormous account.” That was impressive, even for him. IMFAC was one of the biggest advertising accounts in the country.

“Yes, it is. I'll probably be gone all week, but I'm sure you'll agree it's worth it.”

“It sure is.” She sat back in her chair and looked at him. He was a remarkable man. At thirty-four, he just wasn't going to stop until he had gotten everything he wanted. But one had to admire him, particularly when one looked back at where he came from. She had tried to point that out to her parents over the years, but they seemed determined to ignore all his good qualities, and all they did was harp on the negative side of his ambitions. As though it were a crime to want to succeed, to get ahead. At least she didn't think so. He had a right to accomplish what he wanted to, didn't he? And he had a need to win. Sometimes she even felt sorry for him because that need was so acute in him. It really hurt him, almost physically, when he lost, even at tennis.

And Steven played tennis again later that afternoon. He was still playing when Adrian left for work, and she had promised to come back and pick him up at exactly seven. And when she did, he was waiting for her, handsome
in
a new blazer and white slacks, and a red tie she had bought him. He looked great and she told him so, and he told her she looked pretty too. She was wearing an emerald-green silk suit with matching shoes and she had just washed her hair and it shone like polished onyx. But she noticed as she slipped into the Porsche with him that he was nervous and distracted. But with an account the size of IMFAC on the line, it was easy to understand it.

She chatted easily with him about unimportant things on the drive to Beverly Hills and she was impressed when she saw the house. Mike James was Steven's boss, and his wife was one of the most expensive decorators in Beverly Hills. It was their housewarming, and she had been hearing for months about the endless multimillion-dollar renovations. But the results were impressive anyway, and there were easily two hundred people there when they walked in, and Adrian almost instantly lost Steven, and found herself wandering between one of the many bars and buffets, listening to snatches of conversation.

People talked about their kids, their marriages, their jobs, their trips, their houses.

Several people stopped and talked to Adrian, but she didn't know anyone there and so was in a quiet mood and didn't linger long in any group. And more than once she noticed, as she often did lately, that when people realized that she was married, they asked her if she had children. It made her feel strange sometimes, saying that she didn't. It was as though not having children was a kind of failure. No matter that she had an important job, and that she was only thirty-one. Women who had children looked proud of themselves, and lately Adrian had been wondering if she had missed something when she and Steven had decided never to have children. Nothing was written in stone, of course, and it wasn't as though their decision couldn't be changed, but she knew how strongly Steven felt about it, which was why she was beginning to feel a little flurry of panic each time she remembered that she was late. And day by day, she seemed to be getting later.

She had thought about buying an at-home test that afternoon, but it seemed a little premature, and there was no need to overreact just because she was a few days late …but what if she was pregnant? She stood alone, staring at the view, and a man stopped to chat with her and offered her a glass of champagne, but she really wasn't interested in talking to him. And after he left, she suddenly found herself thinking. What would happen if she really was going to have a baby? What would she say? What would Steven do? Would it really be so terrible? Or would it be wonderful? Could he be wrong about his vehement stance against children? Would he warm to the idea eventually? …and would she? Would it interfere with her work? Permanently end her career, or could she just go on doing what she did, after a maternity leave? Other women did. It didn't seem like the end of the world to other people. They seemed to have babies and work, it wasn't so disastrous, or was it? She wasn't sure. And as she thought about it, Steven suddenly appeared beside her.

“Done.” He grinned.

“The deal?” She looked stunned. She had been so lost in her own thoughts, he had startled her when he suddenly turned up standing next to her, and she was almost afraid he could hear her thoughts or guess what she was thinking.

“No, I didn't make the deal yet. But Mike wants me to fly out to Chicago with him on Monday. We're going to have some very quiet meetings with them, discuss our philosophies, and theirs. And if everything goes all right, which it will, the following week I'll fly back out on my own and make the presentation.”

“Wow! Steven, that's fabulous!” And he looked as though he thought so too when she kissed him. He allowed himself to have two drinks and he was still beaming from ear to ear when he walked her out to the car when she left for work, and he told her he'd have someone drop him off at home. He told her not to bother to come back to the party after work because he didn't think he'd stay long. And as she drove off, he waved, and went back to see his host again. For Steven, it had been a fabulous evening.

It had been less so for Adrian, and suddenly all she could think of, even in the midst of Steven's incredible opportunity, was whether or not she was pregnant. The idea tormented her all through the evening news, and she was still preoccupied on her way home, and then suddenly, with a quick swerve, she pulled into the curb and decided to stop at an all-night drugstore. Steven didn't have to know anything. She didn't have to say anything to him. But suddenly she wanted to know …and if not tonight …then sometime soon. If she bought the test now, she could do it anytime she felt brave enough. She could even do it while Steven was in Chicago.

She bought the kit and had the druggist put it in a brown paper bag that she shoved deep into her tote bag, and then she got back in the Porsche again, and drove back to their apartment.

Steven was home when she arrived, in bed, half asleep, but with a look of supreme bliss on his face. He was sure that he was on his way to Chicago to make the deal of a lifetime.

A
ND IN HIS CONDOMINIUM, STARING OUT THE WINDOW
into the darkness on Saturday night, William Thigpen looked anything but blissful. He had written for a while, bought Chinese takeout for himself, he had called his kids in New York, watched TV, and he was actually feeling rather lonely. It was one o'clock in the morning by then, and he decided to take a chance and call Sylvia in her room in Las Vegas. She might be back by then, and at worst, he could always leave a message. The phone rang half a dozen times, and when no one answered it, Bill waited for the message operator to come back on, and when he did, it was a man with a gravelly voice and he sounded half asleep and all he said was “Yeah?” as Bill waited.

“I want to leave a message for the party in 402,” Bill said crisply.

“This is 402,” the voice growled, “whaddya want?”

“I must have the wrong room, I'm sorry …” and then suddenly he wondered.

“… you expecting a call from somewhere?” The gravelly voice asked someone in the distance, and there were hushed exchanges with a hand over the phone, and then suddenly Sylvia was on the phone, sounding very nervous. She would have been smarter not to take the call, but she hadn't figured that out, and she knew it was probably Bill calling from L.A.

“Hi …there's been a terrible mixup,” she started to explain as Bill almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. “They forgot to reserve half the rooms, and four of us are sharing.” It was beautiful. It was a story worthy of his soap opera, and he was at the center of it, feeling as though he were watching someone else's life instead of his own.

“This is ridiculous …Sylvia, what the hell is going on?” He sounded like the irate lover, but the odd thing was that he didn't feel it. He felt stupid and as though he'd been had, but the truth was he wasn't even angry. All he felt was dumb and disappointed. They'd had something pleasant for a while, but it was more than obvious now that it was over.

“I …I'm really sorry, Bill … I can't explain it just now. But everything's gotten mixed up here …I …” She was crying and he felt like a complete fool just listening to her. He had caught her in the act and he was the one who wanted to apologize for being stupid.