Oceanview is a small town on the Atlantic Ocean in New Jersey, about fifty minutes from New York City. The way I drive, the trip usually takes about forty minutes. However, the evening I went down to see Eve Delmar—Mrs. John Delmar—I crawled along the turnpike. I guess I wasn’t too anxious to see Eve. I left the city about seven-thirty and entered Oceanview at twenty-five to nine.
My destination was the Sunshine Garden Hotel. Land doesn’t come cheap in this part of the United States, so most hotels are built on small plots of ground. The Sunshine Garden was unique in that it covered an acre—and there wasn’t a suite that wasn’t on the ground floor. Actually, the hotel was a series of small buildings around a large, sprawling central building that contained the lobby and office, a cocktail bar, snack bar and restaurant. At least half the guests were permanent tenants who rented their suites by the month.
I wheeled the Corvette into the big parking lot beside the central building. A familiar figure came limping across the lot. I got out of the car and said, “Hello, Benny.”
Benny stopped beneath an arc-light. His round, homely face showed surprise.
“Don’t you remember me?” I asked.
His lips spread in a broad smile. “Mr. Kent? It is you, Mr. Kent! Hell’s bells, it’s been a long time.”
“Over a year, Benny.” I put out my hand.
“Gee, it’s good to see you again, Mr. Kent,” he said, pumping my hand. “I didn’t expect to see you—not here, anyhow—not after Mr. Delmar left. He’s not coming back, is he? He’s not coming back to live with his wife again, is he?”
Benny seemed worried, concerned.
“I don’t think so,” I said.
Benny looked away, grunted. “He’s a nice man, Mr. Delmar. I got along real good with him. I’m glad he’s not coming back to that lady. I mean ... well, he deserves the best, and she ... well ...”
“I know what you mean,” I said. “How’ve you been, Benny?”
“Oh, fine, Mr. Kent, just fine.”
“Any more operations?”
“No, sir. Those Veteran Administration doctors did a real good job on me the last time.” He tapped a knuckle on his head. “They gave me half a pound of silver, Mr. Kent. Aren’t many guys can say they’ve got a silver skull like I have.”
“No more headaches, Benny?”
“Only once in a while. But that’s no problem. I get a headache, I swallow a pill. Zam! Just like that, the headache’s gone.” He scratched at his head. “Only thing is, my memory ain’t so good any more. Like the other day. One of the tenants gave me a hot horse at Washington Park. I phoned my bookie to put a bet on the nag, but then I couldn’t remember the name. So I looked through all the entries. Do you think I could remember what horse the tenant gave me? The horse’s name just slid out of my brain. It came in first, too, at six to one. When the tenant told me about it, I said I had a deuce on the nag. I just didn’t have the heart to tell him I forgot. I mean, he was happy for me, y’know? Well, that’s how it is. Every now and then my head gets lazy, kind of. Not that I’m kicking. I’m a real lucky guy, Mr. Kent, and nobody knows that better than I do. Hell, that gook hand grenade went off only a foot from the top of my head. You should’ve seen my helmet! Man, you could stick your arm through it.”
I patted him on the back. “You’re doing real well, Benny.”
“You can say that again. I get a hundred and twenty bucks a month pension, eighty a week here at the hotel—hell, I’m really living. Hey, you want me to put some gas in your car or something?”
“Yes, Benny, if you don’t mind. Have the tank filled up and tell the station attendant to check the oil and battery, will you?”
“I’ll do that part myself, Mr. Kent.”
“Here.” I gave him a ten dollar bill. “Thanks, Benny.”
“My pleasure. Hey, how long are you going to be here?”
“Well, I’m not sure.”
“Then I’ll get onto it right away. I’ll have your car back in five minutes. This is like old times, eh?” He frowned. “Only ... this wasn’t the car you had last time I saw you here at the hotel. It was a Buick, wasn’t it?”
It was a Pontiac, but I said, “That’s right, Benny. That memory of yours isn’t as bad as you think it is.”
He smiled. “Hey, that’s a fact, ain’t it. How long since you were here?”
“Over a year.”
“A year, eh? Hey, that’s not bad. Over a year, and I remembered. That’s not bad at all. Okay, Mr. Kent, I’ll get in your car and take it straight to the garage. You go and—”
He stopped. “Did you come here to—It’s none of my business, maybe, Mr. Kent, but—”
“I’ve come to see Eve Delmar,” I said. “She phoned and said she wanted to see me.”
Furrows appeared in Benny’s forehead. I could feel his brain struggling. He said, “Maybe ... maybe she wants to make up with Mr. Delmar. You think that could be it, Mr. Kent?”
“It takes two for that kind of thing, Benny.”
“It wouldn’t be right, you know.” He shook his head back and forth, slowly. “I’d sure like for Mr. Delmar to live here again, but that wouldn’t be right.” He looked at me. “I always try to mind my own business, but I can’t help noticing certain things. I mean ... parties in there ... and men ... and the way she drinks. She’s just not good enough for Mr. Delmar.”
“Sure, Benny.”
“A man like him, Mr. Kent—a good man like him, he deserves the best. Do you see him in the city?”
“We have lunch together at least once a week.”
“How is he?”
“Fine. Never better.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
“And Jack will be glad to hear that you’re finished with the operations. I’ll tell him about it next time I see him.”
“And give him my best, too, eh?”
“I will, Benny.”
“Thanks. Well, I better take care of your car. See you later.”
I walked across the parking lot, past the central building, then along a flagstone path that wound between the suites. The place was well looked after. Each suite sat on an island of close cropped lawn. The islands were separated by either box hedges or flower plots. Set here and there, apparently at random, were fir trees and flowering shrubs. There were four clusters of suites, called wings; North, South, East and West. Eve Delmar lived in suite 27, in the West Wing. It was at the far edge of that particular cluster.
I heard Eve’s record player long before I reached suite 27. It was giving out full blast. Tiger Rag. One of Eve’s favorite numbers. Jack preferred classical music, played low. When they had their last argument, more than a year back, Eve broke all Jack’s records while he was packing his things. He told me about it a few months later. By then he was able to see the humor in it. But he hadn’t had much of a sense of humor during the last six or seven months he lived with Eve.
I was almost to Eve’s door when I heard something nearby. It was just a small sound, but it stopped me in my tracks. There was a tall shrub between the suite and the flagstone path. Standing in the shadows of this shrub was a man.
I said, “Hello, Peller.”
Peller stepped onto the flagstone path. He was a small, fat man with narrow, hunched shoulders. But he had the face of a thin man. It was as though someone had given him the wrong head.
“Well, well, well,” Peller said. “It’s Mr. Larry Kent.”
I said, “Well, well, well. You’re still sneaking around, I see.”
“Just doing my job, Mr. Kent, that’s all. A hotel detective has to know what’s going on. It’s what I get paid for.”
“You’re a lucky man, Peller. Every other place I know, they put Peeping Toms in jail.”
“You’ve got no call to make a crack like that,” Peller said, sounding hurt. “After all, we’re both in the same kind of business. Besides, you never know when you might need a feller’s help.”
“You’re so right,” I said. “Tell you what. Give me your card. The next time I need a dirty old man to peep into a girl’s bedroom window, I’ll let you know. Now, if you’ll get out of my way ...”
“Wait. Wait just a second, Mr. Kent—”
I grabbed two handfuls of his coat, lifted him off the flagstone path, set him down on the grass. “Excuse me,” I said. “Good night, Peller.” I took two steps toward the door.
“Hold it,” Peller said.
There was something in his voice that made me stop. I turned.
“What is it, Peller?”
“I might be able to do you some good. You see, I know why you’re here.”
“You do, eh?”
“Sure. You and Jack Delmar are good friends. The redhead in there doesn’t want to give him a divorce. One and one makes—”
“Your arithmetic is lousy, Peller.”
“Don’t give me that, Mr. Kent. I read the papers. Jack Delmar has come up in the world since he left his wife. One year ago that little ad agency of his was swimming in red ink. Now it’s got some of the biggest clients in the country. Also, Walter Winchell had a piece about Jack Delmar in his column; something about Jackie boy making the rounds of the night-clubs with his little blonde secretary. If you think the redhead doesn’t know about that, you’re crazy. She doesn’t miss a thing.”
“So?”
“So she doesn’t want a divorce. Why should she divorce a guy who’s going to be a millionaire in no time at all? Of course, she might change her mind if he comes up with an interesting proposition—say, fifty thousand cash on the barrel-head and a thousand a week.”
“That’s not a divorce, Peller, it’s an international settlement.”
“Eve’s a smart girl, Mr. Kent. She’s got a brain like a cash register. And she’s careful. You won’t get any divorce evidence against her. And she won’t scare, either. But you’ll find that out for yourself. Maybe you know it already.” Peller sucked his teeth. “Unless I’m mistaken, you—uh—you knew Eve Romaine before she got married, didn’t you? Seems to me I heard her mention that once or twice. Matter of fact, the way she told it, you and she were pretty friendly. But I’m sure you—uh—didn’t come all the way down here to renew that old friendship, though I wouldn’t blame you if you did. That’s a nice piece of woman in there.”
“Peller, you’re a crud.”
He chuckled. “First thing a feller learns when he becomes a hotel detective is that people are going to call him names sooner or later. Well, I don’t mind ... it means I’m reaching you.”
“Just don’t stretch too far and touch me,” I warned him.
“I don’t mind that, either. You don’t have to like me to do business with me.”
“What kind of business?”
“You know what I mean. You’re in my marketplace. I’ve got things to sell.”
“Things concerning Eve?”
“All kinds of things.”
“I’ll bet.”
“So, if you and Jack Delmar don’t do any good for your selves ... well, maybe I can help.”
“If the price is right.”
“Naturally. But it won’t be anything like the price she wants. Well, you know how to get in touch with me. Just ring the hotel and ask for Stanley Peller; I’m usually around. It’s been nice talking to you again, Mr. Kent. I hope we can do some business.”
He backed into the darkness, turned and scurried away. The Sunshine Garden Hotel was the perfect place for a weasel like Peller—plenty of windows to peep through. I had no intention of doing business with him. In fact, it had been a test of my will power just talking to him. But there was a chance that Jack Delmar might want to deal with Peller on his own. Eve was giving Jack a rough time. Maybe knowing a little of Peller’s dirt would make her more reasonable in her divorce demands. Peller was right about that; Eve did have a brain like a cash register.
I pressed the button beside her door. Tiger Rag had finished while I was talking to Peller and the buzzer sounded loud and clear. I heard Eve’s muffled voice, then something crashed to the floor, near the door, and she laughed. The door opened. She stared at me.
“Hello, Eve.”
“Larry ...?”
“Didn’t you think I’d come?”
Her eyes blinked.
“Aren’t you going to ask me in?” I said.
Suddenly she was the old Eve. Gay laughter. “Why, of course, Larry darling! The more the merrier! No friend like an old friend and all that stuff.” She threw the door wide open.
There was a smashed flower vase on the floor, some roses. The water made a spreading stain on the carpet. Stale water.
“Another of my wedding presents,” Eve said, seeing me looking down. “Jack’s dear old auntie Grace gave me that vase. You know me when I’ve had a few drinks, Larry; I stumble all over the place.”
That was when I saw the man. He leaned against the piano, smoking a cigarette. He wore a powder-blue evening jacket, a black shoe-string tie, patent leather shoes. He sported a thin moustache on his upper lip and his thick brown hair had stylish silver at the temples. He had a tough-looking face that some women might consider handsome; cold gray eyes. He was about my size, maybe a little heavier.
“I don’t know if you two have met,” Eve said, walking past me. The guy pushed himself away from the piano, smiled. “Earl, this is Larry Kent, an old friend of the family—on Jack’s side. Larry—Earl Salem.”
Salem put out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Kent. You came to my place in the city some months ago, but I didn’t get the opportunity to meet you. By the time you were pointed out to me, you were on your way out.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “but I don’t—”
“I own Earl’s Court, Mr. Kent.”
“Oh, the discotheque.”
“That’s right.”
“A nice place.”
“Thank you.”
“That’s where I met Earl,” Eve said. “I went there with a group of old friends. Earl had to drive down to Atlantic City this afternoon. He dropped by on the way back.”
I just nodded.
Eve was amused. She said, “Just because I’m separated from Jack doesn’t mean I can’t have any male friends.”
“Of course not,” I said.
“As a matter of fact,” Salem said, “my wife suggested that I drop in and say hello to Eve.”
“You can both stop worrying,” I said. “I haven’t handled a divorce case for years.”
“That’s reassuring,” Salem smiled.
“Incidentally,” I said.
His eyebrows went up. “Yes?”
“I’d wipe my chin if I were you.”
Salem walked to the wall mirror, saw the lipstick on his chin, wiped it off with a handkerchief, chuckled.
Eve was still highly amused. “Larry darling, you’ll have to do a lot better than that. There’s no law against kissing an old friend.”
“I think Mr. Kent was just trying to be helpful,” Salem said. His eyes met mine in the wall mirror. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I said.
“My, my, my. How civilized and sophisticated we are,” Eve said. She took a cigarette from a box, flicked a flame from a bulky brass lighter, blew a stream of smoke at the ceiling. “Don’t let Larry fool you, Earl. He may have stopped taking divorce cases, but there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for an old friend—and Jack is a particularly close friend.”
“Then it’s just as well I’m a happily married man,” Salem said. “Everyone knows how devoted Anne and I are to each other.”
I was getting peeved. First Stanley Peller, now these two.
“Look,” I said, “this is all very entertaining and all that, but I didn’t come all the way down here to match clever dialogue.”
“I know exactly why you came,” Eve said.
“Fine. Let’s talk about it.”
Salem cleared his throat. “Something tells me I’m the odd man out at the moment.”
“Don’t be silly,” Eve said. “There’s no reason why you shouldn’t hear what I’m going to say to Larry.”
“Perhaps not. But I have a club to run, and I’m overdue as it is. I really must be getting back. Please don’t bother to see me to the door, Eve. I’ll be in touch soon.” He nodded to me. “Nice meeting you, Mr. Kent.”
“The same here, Mr. Salem.”
“The next time you come to my place, let me know you’re there. Perhaps we can have a few drinks together.”
“I may take you up on that.”
“Good night.”
Eve and I said good night to him, watched him let himself out.
“Pour me a drink,” Eve ordered.
“Sure,” I said. “If you sweeten that a little.”
“Does that mean you want me to say please?”
“It might help.”
“Then go to hell. I’ll pour my own drink.” She walked to the cocktail cabinet, poured a healthy measure of bourbon.
“Whisky,” I said, “is supposed to make people happy.”
“Go to hell.”
“You already told me to go there.”
“Then make another trip.” She drank half of the bourbon neat without making a face. “If you want a drink, get it yourself.”
I lit a cigarette, watched her. She still had her figure, but if this was an example of how she drank she wouldn’t have it long. She was as attractive as ever, if you don’t mind a cruel mouth and calculating eyes. She wore a black dress. Black was always her favorite color. The dress had a mini-skirt and a mini-top. I knew that if I stood close to her and looked down I would see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Eve was proud of her figure, especially of her upper statistic. Well, not the statistic exactly, for she wouldn’t take a tape past thirty-four inches. But her breasts were beautifully shaped—like pears, and firm.
“It’s been a long time, Larry,” she said. She wasn’t angry now. Her mouth didn’t seem so cruel, and there was even a little warmth in her eyes. Well, that was like Eve. Mercurial. “Why don’t you have a drink?” she suggested.
“I will, thanks.”
“I’ll get it for you. Are you still a scotch man?”
“Yes.”
She took ice cubes from a bucket, held them over a glass. “On the rocks, right?”
“Yes.”
She dumped the cubes in the glass, poured Teacher’s slowly over the cubes, handed me the glass, added more bourbon to her glass.
“What’ll we drink to?” she asked. Then, before I could answer: “I know! Old times.”
“Here’s to old times,” I said.
We drank and she laughed. “We did have a few wild times, didn’t we, Larry? But that was before I met Jack. I knew you wouldn’t tell him about that weekend we spent together. That wouldn’t have been cricket.” She laughed again. “After we got married, you didn’t like coming here, did you?”
“I had no feelings about it one way or the other,” I said. “What had happened between us was finished when you married Jack.”
“Didn’t you ever think about that weekend?”
“No.”
“I did.” She paused. “Wouldn’t you like to spend another weekend like that, Larry? This is only Wednesday. We could make it a long, long weekend.” Her voice went low, bitchy. “That would give you plenty of time to get some good photographs, wouldn’t it?”
“Photographs? What are you—?”
“Come off it, Larry Kent!” Her lips were thin again; her eyes narrow, flashing slits. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind being the co-respondent in a divorce case if it’d help your dear buddy Jack!”
I slammed down my drink. “If you got me to come all the way down here just to tell me that—”
“What? I got you to come here? Who do you think you’re bull—”
“You didn’t phone my office a little after five o’clock?”
She leaned back and laughed. “Oh, this is the absolute limit! You’re slipping, Larry. Now you’re getting phantom phone calls.”
“A woman phoned my office at ten after five. She gave her name as Eve Delmar.”
“And I suppose her voice sounded exactly like mine?”
“I didn’t take the call. I was out. I left the office at five. The message was taken by my answering service. The woman said it was imperative that I get down here. The girl at my answering service thought the woman sounded frightened, on the verge of hysteria.”
“I don’t believe you.” She downed her drink. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?”
“Then you didn’t make the call?”
“You know damn well I didn’t! Jack got you to come down here. He wants a divorce so he can marry that little chippy in his office. But he doesn’t like my terms. He sent you to work on me. You’re trying to scare me.”
I crushed out my cigarette. “That’s not how I do business, Eve—and I think you know it. As for the divorce, that’s between Jack and you. To tell you the truth, he doesn’t even talk about it when I see him.”
“Huh! I’ll bet!”
I shrugged. “You can believe what you want to believe.”
“I certainly don’t believe you came down here because you thought I was in trouble.” She looked into my eyes. Suddenly she didn’t seem so sure of herself. “Why should you help me?”
“I asked myself the same question, Eve. Maybe it’s because I feel sorry for you.”
This really got her. She just looked at me, her mouth open.
I said, “You’re not a happy girl. You never were. When was the last time you relaxed without the help of drugs or whisky? Look at you now. You’re wound up tight.”
She came to life, angry again. “You can stop working your little tricks on me, Larry. There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m fine. I know exactly what I want and where I’m going. I’m in perfect control of the situation.”
She poured more bourbon into her glass.
“I know where you’re going, too,” I said. “To the nearest mortuary parlor with a liver that looks like a wet piece of leather.”
“I can stop drinking any time I feel like stopping!”
“Sure, but you’ll never feel like stopping.”
“Well, it’s none of your business if I drink myself to death.” She laughed. “But don’t count on it, darling. I’m going to be around for a long, long time. You can tell that to Jack when you get back to the city. And you can tell him something else, too—I won’t come down one penny in my demands. My price is the same as it was the last time he phoned and asked for a divorce. And if he thinks I’m going to give him grounds for divorce, he’s crazy. You be sure you tell him that, Larry. Now get out of here and—” The glass dropped from her hand, shattered on the floor. She looked down at the sharp slivers of glass for a moment, her eyes wide and bright. Then her hands began to shake. She turned to me, an appeal in her eyes. “Don’t go, Larry. Stay with me for a while. Please!”
“After you called me a liar?”
She studied my face. “Then ... there was a telephone call? Someone did use my name?”
“If I was trying to fool you, Eve, I’d come up with something better than that.”
She thought about this, nodded. “Yes. You would.” Then she came to me. “I’m scared, Larry, I’m scared!”
I put my arms around her. She wasn’t acting. I could feel the chills that ran through her body. She pushed herself against me, breathing quickly, heavily. I held her tightly until the shivering stopped and her breathing was normal, then I grabbed her shoulders and stepped back to look into her face. Her eyes were cast down. Tears streaked her cheeks and her mascara was running.
“What are you afraid of?” I asked.
She wet her lips. “I feel so stupid, Larry. I never broke down like that. I must look a sight. Let me go and fix myself up, eh? Then we can have a talk.”
I let go of her. She smiled, gratefully, rather shyly. This was an Eve I had never seen before.
“I’ll be right back,” she said. “Finish your drink and have a cigarette.”
She went into the bedroom. I lit a cigarette, drained the scotch from my glass, splashed more scotch on what was left of the ice cubes. She was back soon after I finished the cigarette. She had repaired her face and now she wore a towel robe.
“I’m sorry I fell apart,” she said.
“Forget it. But now let’s talk about why you did.”
“Why?” She looked puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You said you were afraid.”
“Did I? I don’t remember what I said. It’s the drinking I’ve been doing. I think that’s what I’m afraid of—drinking myself to death.”
“That’s not the impression I got. It seemed to me that you were afraid of something—or someone—in particular.”
“Really?” She gave a short laugh. “How I must have carried on!” She glanced in the direction of the cocktail cabinet. “I’ll tell you something, Larry—I’m going to leave that stuff alone for a while.”
“Will the real Eve Delmar please step forward?” I said.
She batted her eyelashes at me. “What do you mean by that?”
“I’ve seen four different women tonight. I don’t know which one to believe.”
“The four faces of Eve, eh? Well, I have some good news for you, Larry. The three others have gone. Now there’s only me. This is the real Eve.”
“Are you anything like the one who wants to bleed Jack dry?”
“I thought you didn’t come down here on Jack’s behalf.”
“I didn’t. But I’d like to know.”
“Well, I don’t mind telling you. Maybe it’s a good idea to talk about it. Yes, I think it is ... If you like, Larry, you can get in touch with Jack tomorrow and tell him I’m willing to be more reasonable—a lot more reasonable. Will you do that?”
“If you really want me to.”
“I do. By the way, I’m sorry about ... my accusations. I’m sure now there was a phone call. I know you wouldn’t come down here to push me around. You’re too big a man for that sort of thing. I have no idea who made that phone call and used my name, but I’m glad she did ... It brought you here. You see, Larry, I meant it when I said I never forgot that weekend …”
She opened the robe, let it slide free of her arms. It fell to a heap on the floor behind her. “The real Eve Delmar,” she whispered, “is now stepping forward.”
There were three steps between her and me. She took two of them. I stayed where I was, struck by her beauty but not willing to take advantage of her offer.
I said, “Aren’t you afraid I may have brought a photographer with me?”
“I apologized for my accusations just a moment ago.” There was a kind of amused scorn in her eyes. “I come bearing gifts, and you try to discourage me. You always did have a streak of puritanical morality.”
“You’re Jack’s wife,” I said. I felt like a damn fool, but there it was.
“That, Larry darling, is a mere technicality. Jack’s head hasn’t dented my pillow for more than a year. A girl gets lonely.”
“Not when there are guys like Earl Salem around.”
“Earl? Surely you don’t think that Earl and I—Oh, Larry, how could you?” She was playing with me. This was Eve Romaine, the teasing wanton I had spent a weekend with almost three years ago. She twirled strands of her long red hair around an index finger. “You heard what Earl said, darling—he’s a happily married man. If you saw his wife, perhaps you’d believe that my friendship with Earl is entirely platonic. She’s a beautiful woman. Long, black hair. If I recall correctly, you were partial to brunettes, though that didn’t keep us from having a perfectly wonderful time ... You said you didn’t remember that weekend, darling, but I don’t believe you.”
“So I remember,” I said. “But that doesn’t change how things are.”
“You don’t think Jack would mind, do you?”
“That’s got nothing to do with it.”
“You poor thing,” she said, her tone mockingly sympathetic. “You’re trapped by that strange moral code of yours.” Low laughter came from deep in her throat. “It seems I’m not the only schizo in this room. When is the real Larry Kent going to step forward?” The scorn left her, and her voice became warm, urgent. “I got to know him in a motel outside Baltimore. I liked him a lot. But I didn’t like the other Larry Kent—the one you are now—the one who was polite and distant and formal and afraid.”
“Afraid, Eve?”
“Yes. You wanted me, even after I married Jack, but you were afraid to make a move.”
“You’re mistaking decency for fear.”
“There’s nothing decent about the way I feel about you, Larry. Oh, it’s nice, very nice, but it’s not the sort of thing they discuss in Sunday School. And you liked it, darling. You can’t deny that. You really liked it. And what’s more, you’re thinking about it right now, though you refuse to admit it even to yourself.”
“It’s possible I am thinking about it,” I half-admitted. “You are a beautiful woman, Eve. But New York is less than an hour away—and the city is full of beautiful women.”
“And you no doubt have a full address book. But ... answer this truthfully, Larry. When you’re making love to the one you select, will you be thinking about me?”
“No.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Stop staring into my eyes and look at me ... really look at me ... all of me ...”
She placed her hands at the base of her throat, moved them downward, slowly. My eyes followed the movement of her hands, watched them rise sharply, go inward, then down again and out, tracing the outline of her narrow waist, the gentle but definite flare of her hips. Then, quite suddenly, she reached out with both hands, placed them around my right wrist, guided my hand ...
Her confidence in her beauty and in my weakness sent a wave of anger burning through me. But I realized almost immediately that my anger was directed at myself. That weekend I had spent with Eve in the motel near Baltimore had left more of a mark on me than I cared to acknowledge.
It’s all right, I thought—a woman is a woman; I can wait. She needed a lesson. I would close my mind to her beauty. I would pretend that the touch of her meant no more to me than the touch of marble, or granite, or—
“There,” she said, and she pressed both her hands against the back of mine—and I forgot what I had been telling myself. I forgot everything but the fact that she was standing near me, a step away. I took the step and pulled her to me. She gave a little cry that was a mixture of joy and triumph and need.
To hell and gone with my puritanical morality!