COUNTERPOINT
An original romantic serialFrom Alina Adams the author of "When a Man Loves a Woman" (DELL 4/00), "Annie's Wild Ride" (AVON 8/98), "Inside Figure Skating" (METROBOOKS 11/00 & 9/99), "Thieves at Heart" (AVON 12/95) and "The Fictitious Marquis" (AVON 6/95)
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Across the street, in a taxi smelling of damp leather, Nicole Simonge watched the unfolding drama and wondered who the hell that man on horseback was, because he certainly wasn't her husband. The Robin Cooper Nicole knew grew very offended when somebody tried to come between him and his self-destructive escapade of the day. She knew that much from painful, personal experience.
Nicole and Robin had been together less than a month when he expressed an interest in diving off a too-high coral-reef into too-shallow water, and Nicole countered with the comment that he was a lunatic. He did not take kindly to the observation. Robin sprang off their towel, sprinted down the beach and, without looking back, proceeded to do precisely as he'd threatened. He climbed the reef, and dove, hitting the water with a willfully thunderous splash. He didn't resurface. Nicole thought her heart would stop. She still remembered the way her breath fluttered in her throat as she weaved along the surf, searching for him, while a single thought, like the hot Riviera sun, pummeled her skull, "If Robin's dead, what's going to happen to me?" In the end, he was, of course, fine. He'd swum behind a rock, hiding from her, watching her squirm. Robin didn't appreciate Nicole's interference, and, when he finally resurfaced, he spent the next hour belittling and telling her how imbecilic she was. By lunchtime, she had endured more than enough, and, because she hadn't known Robin long enough yet, Nicole actually thought she could take revenge on him -- and not suffer the consequences.
It started out as a joke. Well, sort of. The restaurant they went to for lunch was a favorite among Robin's crowd, and so, every few minutes, another unblemished and tanned body with rings studded in rocks as pert as their breasts, wandered by their table -- just to say a quick hello, darling -- and ended up monopolizing Robin's attention by draping a gleaming, manicured hand over his shoulder. He loved the attention, even if he pretended to be indifferent, but Nicole quickly got tired of being treated like the maid -- present, yet unseen. And so, the afternoon following Robin's diving stunt, in a combination of reclaiming his attention and paying him back, when the umpteenth jet-setter prowled by them, Nicole waited until Robin was deep in conversation before slipping her hand underneath the table and reaching for the top button of his slacks. Robin's expression flickered, but, in the interest of continuing his chat, he pretended not to notice. She undid three buttons, giving Nicole access to his briefs, and beyond. Robin's eyes darted to the side, but there was no way for him to stop Nicole without it looking most awkward. She proceeded to caress him, leisurely at first, enjoying the way Robin's voice caught in his throat as he tried to carry on his exchange without letting on what was happening below the tablecloth. When it looked like Robin had regained control of himself, Nicole steeped up her assault, raking her nails along the length of him, cupping and stroking him in ever-tightening circles until she felt Robin begin to tremble. Finally, he had to gasp, covering up the cry of his climax with a fake coughing fit that sent half the waitresses scurrying for water. Taking advantage of the commotion, Nicole flashed Robin a conquering smile, and excused herself to go to the Ladies' Room, leaving him crouched alone at the table.
She'd barely completed touching-up her lipstick, when Robin stormed into the lavatory, grabbed Nicole by the arm and flung her inside one of the stalls. He pinned her against the wall, yanking up her skirt with one hand. She'd never seen him so angry. His eyes foamed, breath raw, fingers pinching her skin hard enough to leave a bruise. He wasn't, however, pressing down so hard that she couldn't, if she wanted, pull away. And yet, Nicole didn't budge. She let him grab her wrist and propel her hand down to the buttons of his fly, forcing her to consummate what she'd started. With no preliminaries, he blindly thrust inside Nicole as if she were just some object existing solely for his pleasure. At the time, she'd felt humiliated at being treated in such a degrading manner. Nine months later, when Eve was born, Nicole rated it the luckiest abuse she ever took. And, while she hardly expected Robin to be as harsh with Miss Morgan as he had been with her -- after all, Robin barely knew the bitch -- she did expect some sort of reply to her keeping him from jumping that fence. And she wasn't talking about a kiss.
Earlier than morning, Nicole had decided to follow Robin on a whim. She wanted to see for herself what -- more precisely, who -- had triggered his latest divorce threat. And so she waited outside the Fairmont Hotel, wondering how her Ukrainian taxi-driver managed to reek so strongly of sweat, so early in the day. When Robin came out, they shadowed his car, following him to Cooper Shipping. He strolled in, and exited a few minutes later, leading a woman by the elbow. Nicole did a double-take.
Victoria Morgan was not at all what she'd expected.
She'd assumed Robin's flavor of the month would be like all of his others. Plastic money, plastic grin, plastic tits. If Robin's mistresses had one trait in common, besides their short shelf-life, it was their in-your-face, knockout beauty.
So, what the hell, was that?
She was wearing jeans, for goodness' sake. Jeans and a shirt the color of turnips, tied at the waist and so loose at the top it was difficult to tell if she even had anything up there. And were those cowboy boots? What was Robin thinking? Was he going through some perverse, rustic phase when he'd latched on to her?
For nearly an hour, a bored Nicole watched them canter their horses like dusty cowpokes. When Robin tried jumping the fence and Victoria stopped him, Nicole hoped the afternoon might finally get interesting, justifying her expenditure on the taxi. With any luck, Robin would terminate his fling right on the spot -- he'd had a week to get her into bed and a dog who looked like that, how good could she be, after all?
Nicole promised herself and Robin that, if he dumped Victoria now, she would consider doing him a great favor and dropping by his room later that night. After a week with Miss Victoria Morgan, he was probably starved for a real woman.
But, rather than going off on Victoria like Nicole expected, like he undoubtedly would have if she'd been the one to act in an identical manner, Robin kissed her. Not like he'd kissed Nicole years earlier, her back pinned against the wall, his eyes blazing a desire to penalize. But, with a gentleness so out of character, Nicole wondered if she'd been stalking the wrong man.
Who was this stranger?
Was he drunk?
No.
Nicole had seen Robin drunk too many times to attribute this irregularity to alcohol. Was he faking it? If so, whatever for? Surely, Victoria Morgan could not be worth so exorbitant an effort. Was he -- no, it wasn't possible, but, could he be -- sincere? Was this the real Robin Cooper? Had Nicole been married to the fraud all these years?