Under The Boardwalk
Under The Boardwalk
Carla Cassidy
“Grey, we’re strangers.
“Our lives have taken us in completely different directions.” Nikki sighed again, suddenly weary.
“Nikki, I never forgot you. I can still remember the taste of your skin, the texture of it. I still remember each and every time we made love, each and every time you whispered my name.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me you don’t think about those nights under the boardwalk. Look at me and tell me you don’t remember how right we felt together.”
She drew upon the anger that was just beneath the surface. She thought of her joyous letter to him, answered by an envelope of money.
She looked into his eyes and lied. “Never,” she said firmly.
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning author who has written more than seventy books. In 1995 she won Best Silhouette Romance of 1995 from Romantic Times BOOKclub for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she also won a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times BOOKclub for best Innovative Series, and her 1998 release Pregnant with His Child… was both a nominee for Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times BOOKclub and a RITA® Award nominee in the Best Traditional category. She has been a professional cheerleader, an actress and a singer/dancer in a show band before settling into her true love…writing.
Under the Boardwalk
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
One (#u9b823b20-14d7-5381-9c21-4f722cf17a89)
Two (#u683b04d5-df08-55fd-a40e-d3d87c7601ef)
Three (#u5522eb8b-a990-50c5-874c-47dcc593381d)
Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
She tossed restlessly on the narrow bed…waiting, anticipating…knowing he would come before the moon reached its zenith, before the sand lost the last of the heat of the day.
She sat up as she heard the familiar brush of fingers against her window screen. Heart thudding loudly, she left the bed, raised the screen and reached for his hand, knowing it would be there to help her over the sill.
Gazing at him, she swallowed a joyous burst of laughter, noting how the moonlight stroked his bold, handsome features. Without warning, she turned and ran across the sand dunes, toward the thundering waves of the ocean. She heard his laughter behind her and echoed it with her own.
Before she reached the tumbling waves, she paused only long enough to strip off the cotton nightgown. Then, naked and free, she dived into the waves. The cold water forced a gasp from her as it drove the air from her lungs. She surfaced, looking back to where he stood on the shore. He, too, had taken off his clothes, but she knew no matter how she coaxed he wouldn’t venture into the icy waves.
As she swam, her gaze went often to him, the brilliant moonlight glistening on his darkly tanned, well-muscled build. He stood patiently, waiting for her to tire and seek the warmth of his embrace.
When she finally returned to the shore, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the darkened shadows beneath the boardwalk. Once there, he lay her gently on the sand, her body shifting to accommodate his as the sand beneath her displaced and molded to her form.
With the pounding rhythm of the waves ringing in her ears, he took her, his mouth tasting the saltiness of the ocean’s tears, their bodies moving together as naturally as the waves meeting the shore.
Afterward, they remained in each other’s arms. “Forever,” he whispered to her.
“Forever,” she echoed, and with the passion and confidence of youth, there was no doubt in her mind that they would indeed be lovers forever.
One
Nicolette Young danced the three marionettes across the stage, smiling in satisfaction as she heard the laughter of the audience above the tape-recorded music. The giraffes always brought down the house, which was why Nikki always saved them for the finale. There was something so ridiculous about a trio of giraffes moving in sync to the latest popular rap song, that the audience couldn’t help but laugh and clap their hands in appreciation.
Nikki looked over the top of the black curtain that hid her from the audience’s view. Her gaze moved across the people sitting on the chairs, pleased to see new faces, testimony to the tourist season’s having once again arrived.
She hoped the boardwalk had a good year. The past two seasons had not been so great. The country was in the middle of a recession and fewer people were taking vacations. Those who did, didn’t choose to make Land’s End, the boardwalk in Oceanview, New Jersey, one of their stops.
She continued to peruse the audience, her hands automatically performing marionette magic.
Then she saw him. A dull roaring resounded in her ears. She faltered, the three giraffes on stage doing impromptu nosedives. The audience laughed, assuming it was all part of the act.
Nikki immediately recovered, her hands continuing the crazy dance through sheer habit, while her mind went momentarily blank as she stared at the man who was a specter from her past.
Why hasn’t he aged? she wondered wildly as she gazed at his handsome, sharply defined features. Like the picture of Dorian Gray, Greyson Blakemore looked exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him almost seven years ago.
His hair was the same midnight black, although shorter than she remembered. She knew his eyes would be smoldering chunks of charcoal, eyes that had always managed to heat her from within by a single glance.
What’s he doing here? What could he possibly want? All kinds of questions popped into her mind, whirling around with dizzying speed.
So much time had passed, so many memories burned in her brain…good memories, bittersweet ones…and ones that tormented her. She shook herself, surprised to realize that unconsciously she’d managed to end the show by rote. She punched the button that drew the curtain across the front of the stage, vaguely aware of her tape-recorded voice announcing the time of the next performance.
She carefully pulled the giraffe marionettes over the top of the backdrop and hung them on the holders where they would be ready for the following show. She was vaguely conscious of the sounds of shuffling feet, youthful chattering as the audience exited the theater.
Her mind was curiously numb, her thoughts confused as she straightened each thin wire on each puppet with meticulous care. Had she remembered to lock her front door when she’d left that morning? Maybe it hadn’t been him at all, only somebody who resembled Grey. Had she shut off the coffeemaker before leaving the house earlier? Perhaps he had only been a figment of her imagination.
“Nikki?”
The low deep voice came from the audience side of the stage. Nikki closed her eyes, a shiver dancing up her spine. Was it possible that a figment of her imagination had vocal chords?
“Nicolette Richards?”
Ah yes, it was Greyson, all right. Nobody else had ever been able to say her name in quite the way he did, a way which always stirred something deep within her.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the stage and faced the man she’d once loved, the man who had betrayed her in the worst possible way.
“Hello, Grey.” She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded cool, well modulated, not reflecting the tumultuous emotions that pressed thickly in her chest at the sight of him.
“I enjoyed the show. You’ve always been so wonderfully talented.” His voice was equally controlled, no sign that there was any emotional tug at all in seeing her again. She hated him for that.
How civil we are, she thought, staring at him wordlessly. How polite and kind, like two people meeting for the very first time.
She had been mistaken in that brief moment she’d seen him over the top of the background curtain. He had aged. The lines of the last seven years radiated from the corners of his dark eyes and deepened the creases on either side of his sensuous mouth. A few premature silver hairs glistened at his temples. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been only eighteen, and now, at twenty-five, the promising attractiveness had matured into full-blown handsome. Somehow, this provoked irritation in Nikki.
“What are you doing here, Grey?” she asked, aggravated that after all that had happened between them, despite the bitterness she felt toward him, she could still remember the taste of his kisses, the feel of his hands against her heated naked flesh. She was suddenly aware of a crackling electricity in the air surrounding them.
“I need to talk to you.” His voice was flat, his face expressionless.
Nikki stared at him curiously. What could he possibly want to talk to her about? And where the hell had he been when she had needed him seven years ago?
Suddenly, she wanted to be outside, out of the confines of the theater, someplace where Grey’s presence wasn’t so overwhelming. “We can talk outside,” she said, moving past him and out into the sultry night air.
She was conscious of him following close behind, and when she turned to face him, she realized what it was that seemed so different about him. It wasn’t the passage of time that was evident on his face, no, it was the way he was dressed. The Grey of her past had been a sunbronzed young man who went shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded cutoff jean shorts and a carefree smile.
The man before her wore a well-tailored suit and expensive leather shoes. More than that, he wore the Blakemore air of arrogance and confidence.
“What do you need to talk to me about?” she asked, wishing that he’d never come back, that they hadn’t shared a past so intense it remained in her soul in vivid detail.
“You probably heard that my father passed away,” he began.
Nikki nodded. “I was sorry to hear about it,” she said, but they were just empty words without the warmth of any real emotion behind them. Grey’s father had been a harsh, sanctimonious man who’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t like her. A “boardwalk brat” wasn’t a fit companion for a Blakemore.
She looked at Grey, waiting for him to continue, noting how the colorful lights strung along the boardwalk reflected in the darkness of his hair. She had once loved to stroke the silken strands, feel the richness between her fingers. She now clenched her hands tightly shut, feeling her nails dig into her palms.
He moved over to the edge of the wooden walkway and leaned against the railing. Beyond him the ocean pounded the shore, the waves silver-tipped with the light spilling from the full moon. “I’ve moved back here to take over the family business. Since most of that business interest lies on the boardwalk, I decided it was important I talk to you. You’ve always seemed to have a finger on the pulse of the area.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked stiffly.
“From all indications, Land’s End is slowly dying.”
“We’ve had a couple of rough years,” she agreed reluctantly. “But we’re anticipating this season will be much better.”
“We’ve received an offer on the place.”
Nikki narrowed her eyes. Yes, she’d heard the rumors that a large developer was interested in buying the area and putting up a luxury hotel. “Are you going to accept it?” Her heart seemed to pause in its beating as she waited for his answer.
He looked out somewhere in the distance, his eyes as dark and impenetrable as the ocean’s depths. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Nikki took a deep breath, trying to swallow the anger that welled up inside her, an anger she knew was not only generated from this moment, but from the past, insidious in its strength. “If you sell Land’s End, you’ll be making a lot of people homeless.”
His nostrils thinned and his jaw knotted visibly. “I’m here to assess the situation and make a decision that will be the best for everyone concerned.”
Nikki snorted a bitter burst of disbelief. “I’m sure whatever you decide, it will definitely serve the Blakemore interests.”
He turned his gaze back at her, his eyes those of a stranger. “Had that been the case, I would have already signed the papers for the sale to go through. I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”
“So why are you here?” Nikki asked impatiently. She found it difficult to breathe, difficult to think with him standing so close. She could smell his after-shave, a pleasant scent of cool spice, a spice that evoked distant memories she now found abhorrent.
“I’d like you to set up a meeting with the others to discuss the future of Land’s End.”
“When?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whenever it’s convenient for all of you. You can give me a call at the house when you’ve arranged it.”
Nikki merely nodded, unable to speak for a moment as once again memories swept over her, bringing with them bitterness, anger and the aching memory of what they’d once been to each other.
“I’ll expect to hear from you soon.” Again she nodded her reply, and Grey turned and walked away.
Nikki watched him until he disappeared from sight, then she slumped against the wooden railing, her hands covering her face.
She shivered, allowing her mind to propel her backward in time, unable to prevent the memories that spilled through her head.
“You and me against the world, kid.” How many times had she heard that from Grey when she was young? Greyson Blakemore, alienated from the other kids because of his family wealth. And Nikki, child of the boardwalk. The two of them had first met on the boardwalk’s carousel. Nikki had been eight, and Grey nine. Immediately, they had confronted each other warily, both wanting to ride the silver steed with the bright blue ribbons.
“You’re a boardwalk brat,” Grey had said, obviously mouthing a term he’d heard but didn’t quite understand.
Nikki had faced him squarely, unafraid of his bigger size. “And your mother is a girdle-squeezed, money-grabbing bitch,” she’d countered.
For a long moment, the two had stared at each other, neither denying the other’s words, but unsure what to do next. Finally, it was Grey who had broken the impasse. “We could take turns,” he suggested, eyeing the silver horse longingly.
It had been the beginning of a relationship that had lasted from the end of May to the beginning of September every year. Nikki had lived for the summers when she and Grey were free to wander the boardwalk, playing hide-and-seek beneath the wooden piers, and later learning other, more exciting games to play when the darkness of the evening descended and the heat of those summer nights surrounded them.
When Nikki was ten, Grey was her best friend. At thirteen, he’d been her hero, and at sixteen he became her lover, and they talked of a future together forever.
“Nikki? Nikki, are you all right?”
The feminine voice pulled Nikki from the warmth of yesterday and back to the stark reality of the present. She withdrew her hands from her face and turned to see Bridget, her petite face creased with worry. “I’m fine.” Nikki forced a smile.
“I saw him, Nikki. I saw him talking to you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Nikki nodded, releasing a shuddery sigh. She walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer. Bridget joined her on the bench, her feet dangling in the air like those of a small child.
Bridget had been born a little person at a time when people had no real understanding of dwarfism. She had come to the boardwalk twenty years ago and opened a pizza place. Here, in the surreal atmosphere and carnival gaiety, like so many of life’s outcasts, Bridget had found acceptance. She had also become a very special person in Nikki’s life.
“Did he say anything…about the baby?” she said, taking Nikki’s hand in hers.
Nikki shook her head and closed her eyes against the stab of pain that pierced through her…a pain of emptiness and loss. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined seeing him,” Nikki said softly, looking at Bridget once again. “So many nights I fantasized about his return, rehearsed all the things I wanted to say—” She stopped in frustration, unable to explain how when actually facing him, she couldn’t think of anything except the reality of his presence. “He called me Nicolette Richards, so he knows about my marriage,” she said suddenly.
“If he knows about your marriage, maybe he knows about your divorce, too. Maybe after all this time, he’s finally come back for you. Maybe he’s come back to make up for the past.” Bridget, ever the romantic sighed at the very thought.
Nikki snorted her disbelief, feeling a slight hysteria sweep over her. “Even if he tried, there’s no way in hell that man could ever make up for the past,” she said with fevered finality.
Greyson Blakemore stood at the window of the second-story room that had been his childhood bedroom. He stared out into the distance where the bright-colored lights of the boardwalk lit the horizon.
Land’s End. At one time, he’d thought it was the only place on earth that mattered. It had been his salvation, his sanity.
He opened the window and felt the warm, salt-tinged air caress his face. Wafting on the breeze were the muted musical tones of the carousel’s calliope. As if the Pied Piper of Hamelin were using his mythical pipe to summon Grey, the haunting notes pulled at him, beckoned him.
As he stood at the window, with the sounds of the ocean crashing to shore mingling with the distant refrain of the boardwalk, he was thrust backward in time. Like the H.G. Wells’s time traveler in his fantasy machine, Grey chose the place and time in his past to revisit.
It was a mental exercise he’d indulged in before, and always when he did, he wound up with Nikki in his arms. She was seventeen and he was eighteen.
He closed his eyes, allowing the past full rein, letting his senses relive that particular moment of yesterday.
Her hair was a long tangle of dark curls that smelled of the sun and held the illumination of the moonlight that shone overhead. He’d held her before, kissed her before, but on this particular night, their embrace held the urgency of summer’s end, the knowledge that within two days he would leave for college. On this night, their urgency fed their passion and the passion fed on itself until they reached the point of no return. Even though they had made love a hundred times before, this time was different, already holding the bittersweet pangs of loneliness and separation.
Afterward, he’d stared at her in wonder, as always unable to believe that she was his. Her hazel eyes had taken on the gray hue of the shadows beneath the pier where they lay. Her skin was as warm as the sun-kissed sand. The moonlight caressed her face, emphasizing the straightness of her nose, etching each of her features in stark radiance. At the time, he’d loved her more than anything or anyone on earth. They’d talked of the future, planned their tomorrows…and after that night, he hadn’t seen her again…until this evening.
Nikki was as much a part of Grey’s past as those youthful carefree summer days. Yet he’d banished her from his very soul. But seeing her again had managed to stir up a strange mixture of emotions that weren’t easy to sort out.
“Greyson?”
He turned to see his mother standing in the doorway.
“We’re waiting dinner for you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.” He looked at his watch, surprised to see it was after eight o’clock. He smiled apologetically, knowing his mother always had dinner served promptly at eight.
This rigid adherence to customs and habits had been one of the things that had driven him to seek the freedom of the boardwalk so many years ago. There, dinner was whenever you got hungry. The days began in the afternoon and lingered until long into the night. There were no clocks, no schedules, no routines to keep. It was a far different world than the structured environment of his home life.
“Greyson, dear?”
He felt his mother’s hand on his sleeve and flushed, realizing his gaze was once again focused out his window. She joined him there, her light, expensive fragrance surrounding him.
“I blame myself, you know,” she said, making him turn to look at her curiously. “Your father always said I should have been more firm with you. I should have forbidden you to go to that place.”
“I don’t think anything you could have said or done would have kept me from the boardwalk.” He looked back out the window, seeing the lights of the Ferris wheel, remembering his child’s perception of a fantasy kingdom against the darkness of the ocean. “There was a kind of special magic there for me,” he said, irritated to recognize a certain wistfulness in his tone.
“But that’s all behind you now,” his mother said, patting his arm reassuringly. “That was the magic of childhood, but you’re a man now with responsibilities.”
Responsibilities…yes. For the past seven years, he’d carried much of the responsibilities of the Blakemore family business on his shoulders. And now he held the livelihood of the people at Land’s End in the palm of his hands.
He left the window, following his mother. He hesitated at the doorway of the room, catching one last glimpse of the brilliant colored lights reflecting off the ocean waves.
Yes, he’d always thought the boardwalk held some kind of magic. He remembered his youth there with Nikki with a longing that was, at times, physically painful. The bright lights, the gay music, the complete freedom…and Nikki. They had all combined to make the past so poignant, so sharply etched in his mind that he was trapped by that very image.
No matter where he’d gone, what he’d done, his thoughts had always drifted back here, to the boardwalk and Nikki. It was an illusion that had made everything else in his life pale by comparison.
Perhaps I needed to come back here, he thought as he followed his mother down the stairs to the dining room. Perhaps in order to finally come to terms with that past, find happiness in the future, he was going to have to dispel the illusion. He wondered if he was going to have to destroy the boardwalk.
Two
Nikki woke slowly, trying to hold on to her dreams, but it was like somebody trying to capture an echo. The sounds of morning intruded on her sleep—the banging of a hammer from someplace outside, the recurrent sloshing of waves acquainting themselves with the shore, Bridget yelling at her Swedish husband, Lars, to take out the garbage.
Dreams of yesterday were chased away, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste in her mouth and the need for a cup of hot coffee.
She stumbled out of bed and pulled on a floor-length silken robe, enjoying the sensual coolness of the material against her naked flesh. Although it was only the beginning of June, it was so unusually hot that Nikki had taken to her youthful penchant for sleeping in the buff.
She belted the robe, then padded into the kitchen and quickly set about making coffee. She frowned as she thought of the dreams that had plagued her sleep all night long. Erotic dreams of Grey…distorted memories of his touch, his caress.
Seeing him again had stirred up embers of the flame that had once burned so brightly inside her. Seeing him again had disrupted the modicum of inner peace she thought she’d finally found.
For seven long years she had worked hard to forget him, to learn to hate him, and now it was more important than ever that she hang on to those negative emotions.
She carried her cup of coffee into the small living room and flopped down on the sofa. Thoughtfully she sipped her coffee as her gaze found the picture on the end table. Johnny. She wondered where he was, what he was doing at this moment. Their marriage had lasted only ten months, but they’d parted as they had begun, as friends. Marrying him had been her second mistake. The first had been falling in love and trusting Grey.
“Hey, Nikki.”
“Come on in,” Nikki yelled in the direction of the front door, smiling as Bridget stepped inside.
“Good morning,” Bridget exclaimed before sailing into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a cup of coffee cradled between her hands.
Nikki smiled indulgently at her friend. “I thought Lars told you to stay away from caffeine,” she commented.
Bridget waved her hands in dismissal. “Oh, him. I think he believes that too much coffee might stunt my growth. I keep telling him it’s too late.” She grinned like a mischievous child. She took a sip from the mug, then settled back on the sofa. “So, are you ready for the tour today?”
Nikki grimaced. “I’ve just been sitting here thinking about packing my bags and catching the first train out of town.”
“You should have known that as president of the Boardwalk League, you’d be chosen to deal with Grey.” She smiled sympathetically. “Honey, we need somebody who’s on our side to be with him when he looks over the area. I know it will be difficult, but surely you can be civil to the man, show him around and not jeopardize the future of the boardwalk because of your past.”
Nikki nodded wearily. Yes, she knew it was necessary to keep the past firmly buried and focus on the issue at hand—the survival of the board walk. That had to take precedence over her own pain, her own sense of enormous betrayal. The survival of this area had to transcend her own personal torment.
Yesterday at the meeting with the people of the boardwalk, she’d known with a sinking heart that she would be chosen as the one to work with Grey. She’d called him the night before to arrange to give him a tour this morning. No wonder she’d suffered strange dreams about him, she thought suddenly. The dreams had probably been induced by her dread of seeing him yet again, of having to have anything at all to do with him.
“If I’m lucky, he’ll take care of the business here, then return to his life in New York City.”
“With his father dead, don’t you think he’ll probably stay here?” Bridget asked.
“I hope not,” she replied fervently. But what if he did remain in Oceanview? How was she ever going to cope with seeing him all the time? To survive, she’d have to hang on to her anger and her bitterness. She couldn’t afford to think about the stirrings of desire, the passion he’d always evoked in her with a mere glance, a simple touch. Those emotions were dangerous, unwanted…the emotions of a fool.
“Nikki, if he wanted it, couldn’t you give him another chance?” Bridget asked gently.
“Never,” she replied flatly. “He’ll never again have a place in my life. He negated that right when he sent me that envelope full of money for an abortion.”
“He was young,” Bridget said.
“And so was I,” Nikki retorted. “Young and pregnant and alone.” Again a deep ache pierced through her, momentarily taking her breath away. “Everyone told me I was a fool, that boardwalk girls had always been easy prey for the town boys. I thought what we had was different….” She shook her head. “I’d be a fool to ever allow Grey to get past my defenses again,” she said softly. “And my mama didn’t raise no fool.” Now, if she could just remember that when she was once again face-to-face with Grey.
Grey walked down the beach toward the huge sign that read: Land’s End, The Biggest Little Boardwalk in New Jersey. The boardwalk at Land’s End, which stretched for only one mile, couldn’t begin to compete with its bigger, more famous seven-mile sister in Atlantic City. However, there was a time when Land’s End had been a very popular tourist attraction. Built in the early 1900s, the boardwalk had enjoyed relative success until the last decade.
Grey had heard the stories many times, of how his grandfather had owned the land and had allowed a passing carnival to set up along the boardwalk. The carny people had liked the permanency of the place and had worked out a deal to remain there year-round.
It was Grey’s father who had parceled out the land and had renters sign leases. All of the original carny people were gone, but some of their descendents were here, along with others who had come seeking someplace to call their very own.
Grey stared up at the huge sign, noting how weathered and faded the lettering had become with the passing of time. He walked beneath it, seeing indications that the boardwalk was beginning to show signs of life. An old man pulled up an awning on one of the concession stands, and a portly woman swept the walkway in front of her darts booth. He looked at his wristwatch. It was just after ten o’clock. In two hours, all the booths and galleries, rides and sideshows would officially open to the public.
In the harsh light of day there was little of the magical-kingdom aura. The sunshine glared off the peeling, faded paint of the buildings. The faint scent of decayed fish and kelp rode the breeze. Even the wood of the boardwalk looked old, cracked by the heat of the sun, buckled with age in many places. He wondered if Nikki, too, would lose her magical aura in the harsh light of the day.
Other than his brief visit two nights ago, it had been seven years since he had been to the board walk, but his feet remembered and moved him in the direction of old habits.
He found himself in front of his favorite pizza place, the scent of spicy sauce and warm crust carrying on the salty breeze. The sign in front read: Short Stuff’s Pizzeria.
Without conscious thought he moved around the side of the building to the back door. When he opened it, the door creaked just as it used to. Smiling in memory, he stepped into the dimness of the back room. The place wasn’t empty. There were about eight kids sitting at an old picnic table, eating from a platter of pizza that sat in the middle of the table. Some things never change, he thought.
For a moment, he felt as if he’d stepped backward in time. He sat down at a small table near where the kids sat and allowed the ambience to overtake him.
This is where he’d come every day for lunch, to see Nikki and eat his fill of Bridget’s “mistakes.” He closed his eyes, remembering the anticipation that each afternoon he’d run across the hot sand of the beach to come here, eager to see Nikki, hold her in his arms, steal a kiss from her in the small kitchen of the restaurant. He’d grab her by the waist and pull her up against him, unashamed of his aching desire for her. Those kisses…she tasted of pepperoni and tomato sauce, and her hair smelled of doughy crust.
“Hmm, you taste so good,” he’d whisper in her ear, then he’d lean down to explore her lips again.
“You taste better.” She would laugh, and with the tip of her tongue she would trace the contours of his mouth while she teasingly pressed her body intimately against his.
She’d loved to tease him, but he hadn’t minded. He’d known instinctively that the promises she made with her eyes and caresses would eventually be fulfilled. He’d never doubted that at night, when the shadows deepened beneath the boardwalk, they’d meet and follow through on the teasing promises they’d made to each other during the light of day.
He forced his attention back to the present, and realized that coming here had been a mistake. The scent of the pizza, the kid’s laughter, the warmth of the room, all combined to bring back memories Grey didn’t want to entertain.
He could still remember his rage when two months after he’d gone to college, his father had brought the news clipping announcing her wedding. Grey had fallen apart, and he now realized that even after all this time, he still hadn’t completely pulled himself together.
Yes, this was a mistake, coming to this pizza place where the memories were as pungent as the scent of garlic and oregano. He stood up to leave, and at that moment Nikki entered the room from the kitchen, carrying a platter of pizza slices.
She saw him immediately and for a moment she froze, like a frightened deer caught in the brilliant beams of a car’s headlight. He saw the color rise in her cheeks, saw her large hazel eyes darken in some indefinable emotion and he wondered if she remembered those summer days when Bridget’s kitchen had served as one of their trysting places where they had both learned about the hypnotic power of love and sex. He felt a heaviness begin in his loins, the stirrings of a desire he now found repugnant.
Memories slammed into Nikki’s head, memories she had repressed for a very long time.
“Hurry Grey, kiss me before Bridget comes back in.”
“I don’t want to kiss you in a hurry. I want to kiss you slowly, thoroughly.” She’d giggled, but raised her lips once again, seeking the heat of his.
“Tonight,” she’d promised, arching her back as his hands pressed her lower body closer against him.
“Nikki, don’t move like that against me or I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“I like it when you aren’t responsible for your actions.”
His eyes had been dark and dangerous and she had loved it, loved him.
Even now, she felt her breasts responding to the vividness of her memories, her nipples tightening and surging against her T-shirt. She jerked her gaze away from him, appalled at her body’s traitorous weakness, her mind’s lapse of sanity.
“Here we are, kids,” she said, forcing a lighthearted tone as she set the pizza on the table. She was conscious of Grey’s gaze still on her. She steeled herself against the onslaught of emotions and walked over to where he sat at the small table.
“I thought we were meeting at the theater in an hour,” she said.
“I just wanted to see if Bridget still ran her soup kitchen for the kids.”
“Every day, although you know she’d kick you in the shin if she heard you refer to it as a soup kitchen. Bridget maintains she’s merely getting rid of all the ‘mistakes’ she can’t serve to paying customers.”
Grey nodded, a ghost of a smile moving a corner of his mouth. “If Bridget really made as many mistakes as she says she does, she’d have been out of business a long time ago.”
“You know Bridget feeds a lot of hungry children…some of whom won’t get another meal until tomorrow morning when they return here.” Nikki leaned forward, focusing on the issue at hand and trying to ignore the way his familiar scent surrounded her. “Grey, these kids come from broken homes, they have alcoholic or drug-dependent parents. Bridget not only gives them a hot meal, she also gives them a sympathetic ear, friendly support, a reason to go on fighting to make something of themselves.”
“Nikki, you don’t have to convince me about the good Bridget does here. Have you forgotten that I was one of Bridget’s waifs?”
She straightened her shoulders defensively. “No, I haven’t forgotten that. I just want to make sure you haven’t. The people on the boardwalk were good to you. They didn’t care who your family was or what your problems were. They accepted you without reservation.”
“That’s true,” he agreed, his tone suddenly weary.
“Then how can you think of closing us down?” she asked with a touch of anger.
“Nikki, I can’t make a business decision based on the fact that some people were nice to me years ago. I have to make a decision based on my head, not my heart.”
At that moment, Bridget entered from the kitchen. “What’s this? A new boy on the boardwalk?” Her face beamed a smile as she approached Grey and Nikki. “Greyson Blakemore…all grown-up and looking mighty fine.”
“Hello, Bridget, you’re looking ravishing yourself,” Grey said, returning a smile to the little woman who immediately joined him at the table.
“I heard you were back. It’s about time you returned to your roots. What kept you away for so long?” Bridget asked.
Grey shrugged, his answer lost as Nikki fled into the kitchen. Once there, she leaned against the stainless steel refrigerator door, remembering his arms wrapped around her, the two of them lying in the sand. “Forever,” he’d whispered in her ear and she’d believed him. Damn him for his lies. Damn him for making her think their love could overcome the differences in their backgrounds…anything the world threw at them. Damn him for making forever so very brief.
“Nikki?” Bridget entered the kitchen. “Grey says he’s ready for his tour whenever you are. He’ll wait for you outside.”
Nikki sighed. “I might as well get it over with,” she said more to herself than to Bridget. After taking a deep breath, she walked through the back room and out into the sunshine. “Where to first?” she asked without preamble.
He pulled a handful of papers out of his pocket. “Before he died, my father had been receiving complaints about safety violations. I thought we’d check those out first.”
“I can’t imagine what kind of violations there would be concerning safety. Sure, things need painting, but safety has always been a priority here.”
He handed her one of the papers, a letter written complaining about the hazardous condition of the Ferris wheel. She scanned the contents quickly. “You can’t take this seriously,” she scoffed. “Whoever sent it didn’t even sign it. Probably one of the townspeople who didn’t win a stuffed animal and wrote this in a snit.”
“Still, I intend to take it seriously,” he returned evenly. “Nikki, if there’s any chance of keeping the boardwalk open, I’m going to have to see what kinds of obstacles we’re facing, what kind of financial backing it will take to make Land’s End more profitable. So, we take these things one at a time and check them out, okay?”
Minutes later as Pete Ely, the Ferris wheel owner, showed Grey the documentation of recent safety inspections, Nikki studied Grey, trying to attain some objectivity. It had been easier to maintain distance when she’d seen him before, when he’d been dressed in his tailored suit and expensive dress shirt. But today, wearing a pair of worn dungarees and a short-sleeved sports shirt, he was uncomfortably like the Grey of her youth, the Grey she had loved with a passion that had been all-ending. But the man of her past had made his choices. He chose to end his responsibility to her with an envelope of money. Blakemores didn’t get involved with boardwalk brats—how many times had she been warned of that? Still, she’d been certain in her heart that Grey wasn’t like the other Blakemores. She’d been wrong.
She wished he’d married. Perhaps if he was married, she wouldn’t be feeling the insidious stirrings of temptation. Every time she looked into the dark depths of his eyes, she saw an image of a serpent, whispering that it was safe to taste the juicy apple. But she’d already tasted the meat of the fruit, and she’d discovered that it bore bitter seeds.
“Well, I guess this takes care of that particular issue,” Grey said, frowning as he looked up at the Ferris wheel. “Although it certainly could use a fresh coat of paint.”
“Everything around here could use a fresh coat of paint,” Nikki replied. “We went to your father several months ago and asked if he would be willing to lower the rent for a few months so we could use the extra money to make some improvements, but he refused.”
“Point taken,” he replied as he moved in the direction of the carousel. Nikki lagged behind, dreading to go to the place where it had all begun so many years ago.
His footsteps slowed as he approached the ancient merry-go-round and she wondered if he, too, was entertaining thoughts from the past.
She watched as he stepped up on the carousel’s platform, his feet moving him toward the huge silver steed they’d fought over. He placed a hand on the saddle that had once been such a brilliant blue, but was now worn to the paleness of distant dreams. “It hardly seems worth fighting over now, does it?” He smiled wistfully and ran his hand lightly down the horse’s flank. “In my mind, it was always bigger, brighter.”
“I guess when you look back, you always remember things as being much better than they really were,” she said pointedly.
“Who’s running the equipment now?” he asked, removing his hand from the horse as dark shutters slid into place over his eyes.
“Walt Simon.”
“Walt Simon? He must be a hundred years old by now.”
Nikki couldn’t hide a small smile. Everyone was surprised by Walt’s longevity and eternally youthful spirit. At that moment, Walt himself walked out from behind the ticket booth, his keen blue eyes immediately spying Nikki and Grey.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he exclaimed, moving toward them with the peculiar gait of age and arthritis. He held out his hand to Grey, who clasped it and shook it vigorously. “Well, I’ll be double damned.” He grinned, a toothless smile that transformed his grizzled, weathered face into that of an innocent child. “I knew you wouldn’t stay away forever. You and Nikki were my very best customers for a lot of summers. First ones on when I opened and the last ones to ride before I’d close up. Remember?”
“I remember,” Grey said, smiling tightly as he dropped the old man’s hand.
“Yes, sir,” Walt said with a wistful smile that fully displayed his toothless gums. “Those were the days. The walkways were filled with people, and I’d have lines of kiddies waiting to ride the fellas.” Walt frowned suddenly. “I don’t get lines anymore.” He looked at Grey anxiously. “Have you come back to help us? Have you come to breathe life back into Land’s End?”
“He doesn’t know whether to breathe life into it or suck the last of its life out of it,” Nikki explained.
“Suck the…you mean close us down?” Walt looked at Grey incredulously. “But, you wouldn’t do that, would you, Grey?”
Grey grimaced. “Walt, I’m trying to make a sound business decision.”
“Grey has taken over the Blakemore family business interests,” Nikki interjected.
“But you never were like the rest of those people,” Walt protested. “Your family always made business decisions, but you always made heart decisions.” He gazed at Grey in sadness. “I don’t understand nothing anymore.” He ran a gnarled hand through his thin, gray hair. “I’ve fought the Blakemores for the past fifty years. I always thought you’d be different…somehow better.”
Nikki noted the slight flush of color that suffused Grey’s face as he stiffened his back. “There’s nothing to understand, Walt. I have obligations and priorities. I am a Blakemore.”
And don’t ever forget it, Nikki mentally added. There was a time when she had forgotten, but she had paid the price and now would never make that mistake again.
“You know, if you decide to close us down and move us off, we won’t make it easy for you,” Walt observed. He grinned like a mischievous boy. “Me and the fellas—” he gestured to the carousel horses “—we can be pretty damn stubborn when we set our minds to it.”
Grey’s eyes glinted with a touch of admiration at Walt’s distinct challenge.
From the carousel they moved on, Grey surveying the condition of the wooden walkways, making notes about everything he saw.
Nikki found herself seeing the area through his eyes, and what she saw made her despair. So much was required, so much needed to be done. Nobody wanted to come to a tourist area that smelled of hopelessness.
What they needed was somebody who cared, somebody who would risk making an investment in the area. Grey’s father, Thomas Blakemore, hadn’t cared. He’d only wanted to collect the rent money due him each month.
Did Grey care? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know him anymore. He’d once cared deeply, passionately for this area and its people. She watched him as he studied Jim’s guns at the shooting gallery. Could she somehow tap into those old feelings he’d once had for the boardwalk? For the sake of her friends, she hoped so. But she wasn’t sure if it was possible. After all, he’d also once cared deeply and passionately for her, but that feeling had died a swift and permanent death.
“I don’t know, Nikki,” he said moments later as he moved to where she stood looking out over the water. “It doesn’t look good.” He carefully folded the notes he’d made and placed them into his pocket, knowing he’d spend half the night viewing and reviewing, analyzing and reanalyzing his observations. “I see a lot on the minus side of the balance sheet and not many pluses.”
“There’s one thing you won’t find written down on your reports…the enchantment. Grey, have you forgotten the enchantment of Land’s End? Have you forgotten how this place embraced you, captivated you, make you feel welcome and safe?”
Unconsciously, she reached out and grabbed his forearm. “Grey, you used to say there was magic here. It’s still here, it’s just become tarnished with age, smeared by too much wear and too little care.” She released her hold on him and moved away, the breeze moving her long hair back from her features, the sun creating fires in the dark strands. “We have dreams, Grey. All of us here on the boardwalk, and you hold them in your hands.”
He watched her with narrowed eyes, trying not to see the way the gentle wind molded her T-shirt against her firm, upthrust breasts, trying not to notice the length of her tanned, shapely legs beneath her shorts.
“Dreams are for kids,” he replied brusquely, tearing his gaze away from her and back to the water.
“That’s not true,” she protested. “Dreams are for everyone who has hope, including those here at Land’s End that don’t have money, or have physical handicaps or whatever. The one commodity they have in abundance is hope.” She reached out to grab his arm. “Grey, please don’t take that hope away from us. Give us a chance to tell you our dreams before you make the decision to destroy this place.”
Grey ran his hand through his hair, needing to think, but not knowing what to think. Her words reminded him of what this place had once meant to him. He moved away from her, again looking out to the water as if the answers were all there in the waves.
He also realized something else. Despite the fact that she’d betrayed him, married another and gone on with her life, he still wanted her. He wanted her with a passion that was mindless, careless and insane.
What he didn’t know was if this, too, was merely a lingering emotion from the past, a memory too powerful to dispel. Would making love to her now be the overwhelming experience he remembered it to be, or had he colored their union with sensations intensified through the haze of time?
The memory was a strange kind of thing, easily given to exaggeration and glorification. Grey had made love with other women since Nikki, but never had he reached the same feeling of completeness he had with her. Had that merely been an illusion?
“Grey?”
“All right,” he said, suddenly knowing what he wanted. He gazed at her, wanting to fall into the shadows of her eyes, wanting to replay the past, make their ending different this time. “If you want me to save the boardwalk, you have to show me the magic again.”
She stared at him and he could see the tumultuous emotions in her eyes. Like storm clouds in an early spring sky, they rolled and thundered, but beneath their turbulence, he saw something else, a spark of desire that flamed momentarily, then was quickly doused. She raised her chin and eyed him proudly and he was reminded once again of that first time he’d seen her. Looking back, he wondered if it wasn’t then, that very first time, that he’d fallen in love with her.
She’d been so alien, so exotic-looking compared to the other girls he knew from school. She’d been barefoot, her legs sporting a deep tan that didn’t quite cover the bruised kneecaps and skinned shins.
She looked like a homeless waif, and yet there was the glory of freedom in her eyes, a self-awareness that he found fascinating. She was like an entity from another planet and he wanted to possess her, contain her spirit and learn from it.
He felt the same way now, as he waited for her answer.
She tossed her hair away from her face and looked at him, her eyes glittering with challenge. “Okay, Grey, I’ll show you the magic,” she finally answered.
Unconsciously, he took a step toward her, overcome with the need to take her in his arms, feel her body pressed tightly against his.
Her eyes flared slightly as if she read his intent and she took a step back from him. “I’ve got to get to the theater,” she said as she looked at her watch. With a stiff nod, she turned and fled.
He watched her go, wishing he could call back yesterday, wondering exactly what had gone wrong between them, knowing that it wasn’t over yet. He knew in that instant that he couldn’t go ahead with his future until he resolved this issue from his past. He needed one more night of holding her in his arms. He needed just one more night with her. Then, just maybe, he could finally let her go.
Three
“I can’t believe I actually agreed,” Nikki said the next morning as she poured Bridget a cup of coffee. “Show me the magic, he says, and I say okay. I should have my head examined.”
Bridget reached out and patted Nikki’s arm in consolation. “But if you can show it to him, maybe he’ll save the boardwalk.”
“I don’t even know if it’s possible. Either you see magic or you don’t. It has to exist in your soul before you can see it in the world around you—” She broke off in frustration.
She got up from the table and walked over to the window and peered out into the early morning sunshine. “When a magician pulls a card out of thin air, some people see a man good at sleight of hand, hear a telltale rustle of clothing, notice a furtive grab up a sleeve. Others see only the magic. Grey used to see it, but he’s had seven years to perfect the Blakemore skepticism and disbelief. How can I make him see the magic? What can I possibly do to change his mind about the boardwalk? This whole idea is completely ridiculous.” Nikki sat down at the table and looked at her friend.
Bridget calmly stirred three spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee, a smile wrinkling her perky nose. “I can’t think of anyone more suited to remind Grey of what this boardwalk once was, what it could be again. There is magic here, the magic of wounded people coming together in tolerance, living together in peace, working together and sharing their dreams.”
She reached across the table and grabbed Nikki’s hand in hers. “This boardwalk has given to you all these years. When you were sixteen and your mother died, these people rallied around to make certain you didn’t end up in social services. We’re a family here, and this family is depending on you, Nikki. You must do whatever it takes to make Grey see the magic. You have to do whatever must be done to see that he doesn’t close us down…even if it means forgiving him.”
“Never,” Nikki replied flatly, removing her hand from Bridget’s grasp. “I’ll be civil to him, I’ll do anything else it takes, but I can never, ever forgive him.”
Bridget paused a moment to take a sip of her coffee, her bright eyes studying Nikki over the top of her cup. “You’ll never really be whole again until you get rid of your bitterness,” she observed. “Your anger will keep you forever bound to Grey. You need to talk to him, vent it, forgive him. That’s the only way you can get on with the rest of your life.”
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Carla Cassidy
“Grey, we’re strangers.
“Our lives have taken us in completely different directions.” Nikki sighed again, suddenly weary.
“Nikki, I never forgot you. I can still remember the taste of your skin, the texture of it. I still remember each and every time we made love, each and every time you whispered my name.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Tell me you don’t think about those nights under the boardwalk. Look at me and tell me you don’t remember how right we felt together.”
She drew upon the anger that was just beneath the surface. She thought of her joyous letter to him, answered by an envelope of money.
She looked into his eyes and lied. “Never,” she said firmly.
CARLA CASSIDY is an award-winning author who has written more than seventy books. In 1995 she won Best Silhouette Romance of 1995 from Romantic Times BOOKclub for Anything for Danny. In 1998 she also won a Career Achievement Award from Romantic Times BOOKclub for best Innovative Series, and her 1998 release Pregnant with His Child… was both a nominee for Best Silhouette Romance from Romantic Times BOOKclub and a RITA® Award nominee in the Best Traditional category. She has been a professional cheerleader, an actress and a singer/dancer in a show band before settling into her true love…writing.
Under the Boardwalk
Carla Cassidy
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
One (#u9b823b20-14d7-5381-9c21-4f722cf17a89)
Two (#u683b04d5-df08-55fd-a40e-d3d87c7601ef)
Three (#u5522eb8b-a990-50c5-874c-47dcc593381d)
Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
She tossed restlessly on the narrow bed…waiting, anticipating…knowing he would come before the moon reached its zenith, before the sand lost the last of the heat of the day.
She sat up as she heard the familiar brush of fingers against her window screen. Heart thudding loudly, she left the bed, raised the screen and reached for his hand, knowing it would be there to help her over the sill.
Gazing at him, she swallowed a joyous burst of laughter, noting how the moonlight stroked his bold, handsome features. Without warning, she turned and ran across the sand dunes, toward the thundering waves of the ocean. She heard his laughter behind her and echoed it with her own.
Before she reached the tumbling waves, she paused only long enough to strip off the cotton nightgown. Then, naked and free, she dived into the waves. The cold water forced a gasp from her as it drove the air from her lungs. She surfaced, looking back to where he stood on the shore. He, too, had taken off his clothes, but she knew no matter how she coaxed he wouldn’t venture into the icy waves.
As she swam, her gaze went often to him, the brilliant moonlight glistening on his darkly tanned, well-muscled build. He stood patiently, waiting for her to tire and seek the warmth of his embrace.
When she finally returned to the shore, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the darkened shadows beneath the boardwalk. Once there, he lay her gently on the sand, her body shifting to accommodate his as the sand beneath her displaced and molded to her form.
With the pounding rhythm of the waves ringing in her ears, he took her, his mouth tasting the saltiness of the ocean’s tears, their bodies moving together as naturally as the waves meeting the shore.
Afterward, they remained in each other’s arms. “Forever,” he whispered to her.
“Forever,” she echoed, and with the passion and confidence of youth, there was no doubt in her mind that they would indeed be lovers forever.
One
Nicolette Young danced the three marionettes across the stage, smiling in satisfaction as she heard the laughter of the audience above the tape-recorded music. The giraffes always brought down the house, which was why Nikki always saved them for the finale. There was something so ridiculous about a trio of giraffes moving in sync to the latest popular rap song, that the audience couldn’t help but laugh and clap their hands in appreciation.
Nikki looked over the top of the black curtain that hid her from the audience’s view. Her gaze moved across the people sitting on the chairs, pleased to see new faces, testimony to the tourist season’s having once again arrived.
She hoped the boardwalk had a good year. The past two seasons had not been so great. The country was in the middle of a recession and fewer people were taking vacations. Those who did, didn’t choose to make Land’s End, the boardwalk in Oceanview, New Jersey, one of their stops.
She continued to peruse the audience, her hands automatically performing marionette magic.
Then she saw him. A dull roaring resounded in her ears. She faltered, the three giraffes on stage doing impromptu nosedives. The audience laughed, assuming it was all part of the act.
Nikki immediately recovered, her hands continuing the crazy dance through sheer habit, while her mind went momentarily blank as she stared at the man who was a specter from her past.
Why hasn’t he aged? she wondered wildly as she gazed at his handsome, sharply defined features. Like the picture of Dorian Gray, Greyson Blakemore looked exactly as he had the last time she’d seen him almost seven years ago.
His hair was the same midnight black, although shorter than she remembered. She knew his eyes would be smoldering chunks of charcoal, eyes that had always managed to heat her from within by a single glance.
What’s he doing here? What could he possibly want? All kinds of questions popped into her mind, whirling around with dizzying speed.
So much time had passed, so many memories burned in her brain…good memories, bittersweet ones…and ones that tormented her. She shook herself, surprised to realize that unconsciously she’d managed to end the show by rote. She punched the button that drew the curtain across the front of the stage, vaguely aware of her tape-recorded voice announcing the time of the next performance.
She carefully pulled the giraffe marionettes over the top of the backdrop and hung them on the holders where they would be ready for the following show. She was vaguely conscious of the sounds of shuffling feet, youthful chattering as the audience exited the theater.
Her mind was curiously numb, her thoughts confused as she straightened each thin wire on each puppet with meticulous care. Had she remembered to lock her front door when she’d left that morning? Maybe it hadn’t been him at all, only somebody who resembled Grey. Had she shut off the coffeemaker before leaving the house earlier? Perhaps he had only been a figment of her imagination.
“Nikki?”
The low deep voice came from the audience side of the stage. Nikki closed her eyes, a shiver dancing up her spine. Was it possible that a figment of her imagination had vocal chords?
“Nicolette Richards?”
Ah yes, it was Greyson, all right. Nobody else had ever been able to say her name in quite the way he did, a way which always stirred something deep within her.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out from behind the stage and faced the man she’d once loved, the man who had betrayed her in the worst possible way.
“Hello, Grey.” She was pleased to hear that her voice sounded cool, well modulated, not reflecting the tumultuous emotions that pressed thickly in her chest at the sight of him.
“I enjoyed the show. You’ve always been so wonderfully talented.” His voice was equally controlled, no sign that there was any emotional tug at all in seeing her again. She hated him for that.
How civil we are, she thought, staring at him wordlessly. How polite and kind, like two people meeting for the very first time.
She had been mistaken in that brief moment she’d seen him over the top of the background curtain. He had aged. The lines of the last seven years radiated from the corners of his dark eyes and deepened the creases on either side of his sensuous mouth. A few premature silver hairs glistened at his temples. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been only eighteen, and now, at twenty-five, the promising attractiveness had matured into full-blown handsome. Somehow, this provoked irritation in Nikki.
“What are you doing here, Grey?” she asked, aggravated that after all that had happened between them, despite the bitterness she felt toward him, she could still remember the taste of his kisses, the feel of his hands against her heated naked flesh. She was suddenly aware of a crackling electricity in the air surrounding them.
“I need to talk to you.” His voice was flat, his face expressionless.
Nikki stared at him curiously. What could he possibly want to talk to her about? And where the hell had he been when she had needed him seven years ago?
Suddenly, she wanted to be outside, out of the confines of the theater, someplace where Grey’s presence wasn’t so overwhelming. “We can talk outside,” she said, moving past him and out into the sultry night air.
She was conscious of him following close behind, and when she turned to face him, she realized what it was that seemed so different about him. It wasn’t the passage of time that was evident on his face, no, it was the way he was dressed. The Grey of her past had been a sunbronzed young man who went shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded cutoff jean shorts and a carefree smile.
The man before her wore a well-tailored suit and expensive leather shoes. More than that, he wore the Blakemore air of arrogance and confidence.
“What do you need to talk to me about?” she asked, wishing that he’d never come back, that they hadn’t shared a past so intense it remained in her soul in vivid detail.
“You probably heard that my father passed away,” he began.
Nikki nodded. “I was sorry to hear about it,” she said, but they were just empty words without the warmth of any real emotion behind them. Grey’s father had been a harsh, sanctimonious man who’d made it clear from the beginning that he didn’t like her. A “boardwalk brat” wasn’t a fit companion for a Blakemore.
She looked at Grey, waiting for him to continue, noting how the colorful lights strung along the boardwalk reflected in the darkness of his hair. She had once loved to stroke the silken strands, feel the richness between her fingers. She now clenched her hands tightly shut, feeling her nails dig into her palms.
He moved over to the edge of the wooden walkway and leaned against the railing. Beyond him the ocean pounded the shore, the waves silver-tipped with the light spilling from the full moon. “I’ve moved back here to take over the family business. Since most of that business interest lies on the boardwalk, I decided it was important I talk to you. You’ve always seemed to have a finger on the pulse of the area.”
“What do you want to know?” she asked stiffly.
“From all indications, Land’s End is slowly dying.”
“We’ve had a couple of rough years,” she agreed reluctantly. “But we’re anticipating this season will be much better.”
“We’ve received an offer on the place.”
Nikki narrowed her eyes. Yes, she’d heard the rumors that a large developer was interested in buying the area and putting up a luxury hotel. “Are you going to accept it?” Her heart seemed to pause in its beating as she waited for his answer.
He looked out somewhere in the distance, his eyes as dark and impenetrable as the ocean’s depths. “I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
Nikki took a deep breath, trying to swallow the anger that welled up inside her, an anger she knew was not only generated from this moment, but from the past, insidious in its strength. “If you sell Land’s End, you’ll be making a lot of people homeless.”
His nostrils thinned and his jaw knotted visibly. “I’m here to assess the situation and make a decision that will be the best for everyone concerned.”
Nikki snorted a bitter burst of disbelief. “I’m sure whatever you decide, it will definitely serve the Blakemore interests.”
He turned his gaze back at her, his eyes those of a stranger. “Had that been the case, I would have already signed the papers for the sale to go through. I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”
“So why are you here?” Nikki asked impatiently. She found it difficult to breathe, difficult to think with him standing so close. She could smell his after-shave, a pleasant scent of cool spice, a spice that evoked distant memories she now found abhorrent.
“I’d like you to set up a meeting with the others to discuss the future of Land’s End.”
“When?”
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whenever it’s convenient for all of you. You can give me a call at the house when you’ve arranged it.”
Nikki merely nodded, unable to speak for a moment as once again memories swept over her, bringing with them bitterness, anger and the aching memory of what they’d once been to each other.
“I’ll expect to hear from you soon.” Again she nodded her reply, and Grey turned and walked away.
Nikki watched him until he disappeared from sight, then she slumped against the wooden railing, her hands covering her face.
She shivered, allowing her mind to propel her backward in time, unable to prevent the memories that spilled through her head.
“You and me against the world, kid.” How many times had she heard that from Grey when she was young? Greyson Blakemore, alienated from the other kids because of his family wealth. And Nikki, child of the boardwalk. The two of them had first met on the boardwalk’s carousel. Nikki had been eight, and Grey nine. Immediately, they had confronted each other warily, both wanting to ride the silver steed with the bright blue ribbons.
“You’re a boardwalk brat,” Grey had said, obviously mouthing a term he’d heard but didn’t quite understand.
Nikki had faced him squarely, unafraid of his bigger size. “And your mother is a girdle-squeezed, money-grabbing bitch,” she’d countered.
For a long moment, the two had stared at each other, neither denying the other’s words, but unsure what to do next. Finally, it was Grey who had broken the impasse. “We could take turns,” he suggested, eyeing the silver horse longingly.
It had been the beginning of a relationship that had lasted from the end of May to the beginning of September every year. Nikki had lived for the summers when she and Grey were free to wander the boardwalk, playing hide-and-seek beneath the wooden piers, and later learning other, more exciting games to play when the darkness of the evening descended and the heat of those summer nights surrounded them.
When Nikki was ten, Grey was her best friend. At thirteen, he’d been her hero, and at sixteen he became her lover, and they talked of a future together forever.
“Nikki? Nikki, are you all right?”
The feminine voice pulled Nikki from the warmth of yesterday and back to the stark reality of the present. She withdrew her hands from her face and turned to see Bridget, her petite face creased with worry. “I’m fine.” Nikki forced a smile.
“I saw him, Nikki. I saw him talking to you. Are you sure you’re all right?”
Nikki nodded, releasing a shuddery sigh. She walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, afraid her legs wouldn’t hold her any longer. Bridget joined her on the bench, her feet dangling in the air like those of a small child.
Bridget had been born a little person at a time when people had no real understanding of dwarfism. She had come to the boardwalk twenty years ago and opened a pizza place. Here, in the surreal atmosphere and carnival gaiety, like so many of life’s outcasts, Bridget had found acceptance. She had also become a very special person in Nikki’s life.
“Did he say anything…about the baby?” she said, taking Nikki’s hand in hers.
Nikki shook her head and closed her eyes against the stab of pain that pierced through her…a pain of emptiness and loss. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined seeing him,” Nikki said softly, looking at Bridget once again. “So many nights I fantasized about his return, rehearsed all the things I wanted to say—” She stopped in frustration, unable to explain how when actually facing him, she couldn’t think of anything except the reality of his presence. “He called me Nicolette Richards, so he knows about my marriage,” she said suddenly.
“If he knows about your marriage, maybe he knows about your divorce, too. Maybe after all this time, he’s finally come back for you. Maybe he’s come back to make up for the past.” Bridget, ever the romantic sighed at the very thought.
Nikki snorted her disbelief, feeling a slight hysteria sweep over her. “Even if he tried, there’s no way in hell that man could ever make up for the past,” she said with fevered finality.
Greyson Blakemore stood at the window of the second-story room that had been his childhood bedroom. He stared out into the distance where the bright-colored lights of the boardwalk lit the horizon.
Land’s End. At one time, he’d thought it was the only place on earth that mattered. It had been his salvation, his sanity.
He opened the window and felt the warm, salt-tinged air caress his face. Wafting on the breeze were the muted musical tones of the carousel’s calliope. As if the Pied Piper of Hamelin were using his mythical pipe to summon Grey, the haunting notes pulled at him, beckoned him.
As he stood at the window, with the sounds of the ocean crashing to shore mingling with the distant refrain of the boardwalk, he was thrust backward in time. Like the H.G. Wells’s time traveler in his fantasy machine, Grey chose the place and time in his past to revisit.
It was a mental exercise he’d indulged in before, and always when he did, he wound up with Nikki in his arms. She was seventeen and he was eighteen.
He closed his eyes, allowing the past full rein, letting his senses relive that particular moment of yesterday.
Her hair was a long tangle of dark curls that smelled of the sun and held the illumination of the moonlight that shone overhead. He’d held her before, kissed her before, but on this particular night, their embrace held the urgency of summer’s end, the knowledge that within two days he would leave for college. On this night, their urgency fed their passion and the passion fed on itself until they reached the point of no return. Even though they had made love a hundred times before, this time was different, already holding the bittersweet pangs of loneliness and separation.
Afterward, he’d stared at her in wonder, as always unable to believe that she was his. Her hazel eyes had taken on the gray hue of the shadows beneath the pier where they lay. Her skin was as warm as the sun-kissed sand. The moonlight caressed her face, emphasizing the straightness of her nose, etching each of her features in stark radiance. At the time, he’d loved her more than anything or anyone on earth. They’d talked of the future, planned their tomorrows…and after that night, he hadn’t seen her again…until this evening.
Nikki was as much a part of Grey’s past as those youthful carefree summer days. Yet he’d banished her from his very soul. But seeing her again had managed to stir up a strange mixture of emotions that weren’t easy to sort out.
“Greyson?”
He turned to see his mother standing in the doorway.
“We’re waiting dinner for you.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.” He looked at his watch, surprised to see it was after eight o’clock. He smiled apologetically, knowing his mother always had dinner served promptly at eight.
This rigid adherence to customs and habits had been one of the things that had driven him to seek the freedom of the boardwalk so many years ago. There, dinner was whenever you got hungry. The days began in the afternoon and lingered until long into the night. There were no clocks, no schedules, no routines to keep. It was a far different world than the structured environment of his home life.
“Greyson, dear?”
He felt his mother’s hand on his sleeve and flushed, realizing his gaze was once again focused out his window. She joined him there, her light, expensive fragrance surrounding him.
“I blame myself, you know,” she said, making him turn to look at her curiously. “Your father always said I should have been more firm with you. I should have forbidden you to go to that place.”
“I don’t think anything you could have said or done would have kept me from the boardwalk.” He looked back out the window, seeing the lights of the Ferris wheel, remembering his child’s perception of a fantasy kingdom against the darkness of the ocean. “There was a kind of special magic there for me,” he said, irritated to recognize a certain wistfulness in his tone.
“But that’s all behind you now,” his mother said, patting his arm reassuringly. “That was the magic of childhood, but you’re a man now with responsibilities.”
Responsibilities…yes. For the past seven years, he’d carried much of the responsibilities of the Blakemore family business on his shoulders. And now he held the livelihood of the people at Land’s End in the palm of his hands.
He left the window, following his mother. He hesitated at the doorway of the room, catching one last glimpse of the brilliant colored lights reflecting off the ocean waves.
Yes, he’d always thought the boardwalk held some kind of magic. He remembered his youth there with Nikki with a longing that was, at times, physically painful. The bright lights, the gay music, the complete freedom…and Nikki. They had all combined to make the past so poignant, so sharply etched in his mind that he was trapped by that very image.
No matter where he’d gone, what he’d done, his thoughts had always drifted back here, to the boardwalk and Nikki. It was an illusion that had made everything else in his life pale by comparison.
Perhaps I needed to come back here, he thought as he followed his mother down the stairs to the dining room. Perhaps in order to finally come to terms with that past, find happiness in the future, he was going to have to dispel the illusion. He wondered if he was going to have to destroy the boardwalk.
Two
Nikki woke slowly, trying to hold on to her dreams, but it was like somebody trying to capture an echo. The sounds of morning intruded on her sleep—the banging of a hammer from someplace outside, the recurrent sloshing of waves acquainting themselves with the shore, Bridget yelling at her Swedish husband, Lars, to take out the garbage.
Dreams of yesterday were chased away, leaving behind a bitter aftertaste in her mouth and the need for a cup of hot coffee.
She stumbled out of bed and pulled on a floor-length silken robe, enjoying the sensual coolness of the material against her naked flesh. Although it was only the beginning of June, it was so unusually hot that Nikki had taken to her youthful penchant for sleeping in the buff.
She belted the robe, then padded into the kitchen and quickly set about making coffee. She frowned as she thought of the dreams that had plagued her sleep all night long. Erotic dreams of Grey…distorted memories of his touch, his caress.
Seeing him again had stirred up embers of the flame that had once burned so brightly inside her. Seeing him again had disrupted the modicum of inner peace she thought she’d finally found.
For seven long years she had worked hard to forget him, to learn to hate him, and now it was more important than ever that she hang on to those negative emotions.
She carried her cup of coffee into the small living room and flopped down on the sofa. Thoughtfully she sipped her coffee as her gaze found the picture on the end table. Johnny. She wondered where he was, what he was doing at this moment. Their marriage had lasted only ten months, but they’d parted as they had begun, as friends. Marrying him had been her second mistake. The first had been falling in love and trusting Grey.
“Hey, Nikki.”
“Come on in,” Nikki yelled in the direction of the front door, smiling as Bridget stepped inside.
“Good morning,” Bridget exclaimed before sailing into the kitchen. She returned a moment later with a cup of coffee cradled between her hands.
Nikki smiled indulgently at her friend. “I thought Lars told you to stay away from caffeine,” she commented.
Bridget waved her hands in dismissal. “Oh, him. I think he believes that too much coffee might stunt my growth. I keep telling him it’s too late.” She grinned like a mischievous child. She took a sip from the mug, then settled back on the sofa. “So, are you ready for the tour today?”
Nikki grimaced. “I’ve just been sitting here thinking about packing my bags and catching the first train out of town.”
“You should have known that as president of the Boardwalk League, you’d be chosen to deal with Grey.” She smiled sympathetically. “Honey, we need somebody who’s on our side to be with him when he looks over the area. I know it will be difficult, but surely you can be civil to the man, show him around and not jeopardize the future of the boardwalk because of your past.”
Nikki nodded wearily. Yes, she knew it was necessary to keep the past firmly buried and focus on the issue at hand—the survival of the board walk. That had to take precedence over her own pain, her own sense of enormous betrayal. The survival of this area had to transcend her own personal torment.
Yesterday at the meeting with the people of the boardwalk, she’d known with a sinking heart that she would be chosen as the one to work with Grey. She’d called him the night before to arrange to give him a tour this morning. No wonder she’d suffered strange dreams about him, she thought suddenly. The dreams had probably been induced by her dread of seeing him yet again, of having to have anything at all to do with him.
“If I’m lucky, he’ll take care of the business here, then return to his life in New York City.”
“With his father dead, don’t you think he’ll probably stay here?” Bridget asked.
“I hope not,” she replied fervently. But what if he did remain in Oceanview? How was she ever going to cope with seeing him all the time? To survive, she’d have to hang on to her anger and her bitterness. She couldn’t afford to think about the stirrings of desire, the passion he’d always evoked in her with a mere glance, a simple touch. Those emotions were dangerous, unwanted…the emotions of a fool.
“Nikki, if he wanted it, couldn’t you give him another chance?” Bridget asked gently.
“Never,” she replied flatly. “He’ll never again have a place in my life. He negated that right when he sent me that envelope full of money for an abortion.”
“He was young,” Bridget said.
“And so was I,” Nikki retorted. “Young and pregnant and alone.” Again a deep ache pierced through her, momentarily taking her breath away. “Everyone told me I was a fool, that boardwalk girls had always been easy prey for the town boys. I thought what we had was different….” She shook her head. “I’d be a fool to ever allow Grey to get past my defenses again,” she said softly. “And my mama didn’t raise no fool.” Now, if she could just remember that when she was once again face-to-face with Grey.
Grey walked down the beach toward the huge sign that read: Land’s End, The Biggest Little Boardwalk in New Jersey. The boardwalk at Land’s End, which stretched for only one mile, couldn’t begin to compete with its bigger, more famous seven-mile sister in Atlantic City. However, there was a time when Land’s End had been a very popular tourist attraction. Built in the early 1900s, the boardwalk had enjoyed relative success until the last decade.
Grey had heard the stories many times, of how his grandfather had owned the land and had allowed a passing carnival to set up along the boardwalk. The carny people had liked the permanency of the place and had worked out a deal to remain there year-round.
It was Grey’s father who had parceled out the land and had renters sign leases. All of the original carny people were gone, but some of their descendents were here, along with others who had come seeking someplace to call their very own.
Grey stared up at the huge sign, noting how weathered and faded the lettering had become with the passing of time. He walked beneath it, seeing indications that the boardwalk was beginning to show signs of life. An old man pulled up an awning on one of the concession stands, and a portly woman swept the walkway in front of her darts booth. He looked at his wristwatch. It was just after ten o’clock. In two hours, all the booths and galleries, rides and sideshows would officially open to the public.
In the harsh light of day there was little of the magical-kingdom aura. The sunshine glared off the peeling, faded paint of the buildings. The faint scent of decayed fish and kelp rode the breeze. Even the wood of the boardwalk looked old, cracked by the heat of the sun, buckled with age in many places. He wondered if Nikki, too, would lose her magical aura in the harsh light of the day.
Other than his brief visit two nights ago, it had been seven years since he had been to the board walk, but his feet remembered and moved him in the direction of old habits.
He found himself in front of his favorite pizza place, the scent of spicy sauce and warm crust carrying on the salty breeze. The sign in front read: Short Stuff’s Pizzeria.
Without conscious thought he moved around the side of the building to the back door. When he opened it, the door creaked just as it used to. Smiling in memory, he stepped into the dimness of the back room. The place wasn’t empty. There were about eight kids sitting at an old picnic table, eating from a platter of pizza that sat in the middle of the table. Some things never change, he thought.
For a moment, he felt as if he’d stepped backward in time. He sat down at a small table near where the kids sat and allowed the ambience to overtake him.
This is where he’d come every day for lunch, to see Nikki and eat his fill of Bridget’s “mistakes.” He closed his eyes, remembering the anticipation that each afternoon he’d run across the hot sand of the beach to come here, eager to see Nikki, hold her in his arms, steal a kiss from her in the small kitchen of the restaurant. He’d grab her by the waist and pull her up against him, unashamed of his aching desire for her. Those kisses…she tasted of pepperoni and tomato sauce, and her hair smelled of doughy crust.
“Hmm, you taste so good,” he’d whisper in her ear, then he’d lean down to explore her lips again.
“You taste better.” She would laugh, and with the tip of her tongue she would trace the contours of his mouth while she teasingly pressed her body intimately against his.
She’d loved to tease him, but he hadn’t minded. He’d known instinctively that the promises she made with her eyes and caresses would eventually be fulfilled. He’d never doubted that at night, when the shadows deepened beneath the boardwalk, they’d meet and follow through on the teasing promises they’d made to each other during the light of day.
He forced his attention back to the present, and realized that coming here had been a mistake. The scent of the pizza, the kid’s laughter, the warmth of the room, all combined to bring back memories Grey didn’t want to entertain.
He could still remember his rage when two months after he’d gone to college, his father had brought the news clipping announcing her wedding. Grey had fallen apart, and he now realized that even after all this time, he still hadn’t completely pulled himself together.
Yes, this was a mistake, coming to this pizza place where the memories were as pungent as the scent of garlic and oregano. He stood up to leave, and at that moment Nikki entered the room from the kitchen, carrying a platter of pizza slices.
She saw him immediately and for a moment she froze, like a frightened deer caught in the brilliant beams of a car’s headlight. He saw the color rise in her cheeks, saw her large hazel eyes darken in some indefinable emotion and he wondered if she remembered those summer days when Bridget’s kitchen had served as one of their trysting places where they had both learned about the hypnotic power of love and sex. He felt a heaviness begin in his loins, the stirrings of a desire he now found repugnant.
Memories slammed into Nikki’s head, memories she had repressed for a very long time.
“Hurry Grey, kiss me before Bridget comes back in.”
“I don’t want to kiss you in a hurry. I want to kiss you slowly, thoroughly.” She’d giggled, but raised her lips once again, seeking the heat of his.
“Tonight,” she’d promised, arching her back as his hands pressed her lower body closer against him.
“Nikki, don’t move like that against me or I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“I like it when you aren’t responsible for your actions.”
His eyes had been dark and dangerous and she had loved it, loved him.
Even now, she felt her breasts responding to the vividness of her memories, her nipples tightening and surging against her T-shirt. She jerked her gaze away from him, appalled at her body’s traitorous weakness, her mind’s lapse of sanity.
“Here we are, kids,” she said, forcing a lighthearted tone as she set the pizza on the table. She was conscious of Grey’s gaze still on her. She steeled herself against the onslaught of emotions and walked over to where he sat at the small table.
“I thought we were meeting at the theater in an hour,” she said.
“I just wanted to see if Bridget still ran her soup kitchen for the kids.”
“Every day, although you know she’d kick you in the shin if she heard you refer to it as a soup kitchen. Bridget maintains she’s merely getting rid of all the ‘mistakes’ she can’t serve to paying customers.”
Grey nodded, a ghost of a smile moving a corner of his mouth. “If Bridget really made as many mistakes as she says she does, she’d have been out of business a long time ago.”
“You know Bridget feeds a lot of hungry children…some of whom won’t get another meal until tomorrow morning when they return here.” Nikki leaned forward, focusing on the issue at hand and trying to ignore the way his familiar scent surrounded her. “Grey, these kids come from broken homes, they have alcoholic or drug-dependent parents. Bridget not only gives them a hot meal, she also gives them a sympathetic ear, friendly support, a reason to go on fighting to make something of themselves.”
“Nikki, you don’t have to convince me about the good Bridget does here. Have you forgotten that I was one of Bridget’s waifs?”
She straightened her shoulders defensively. “No, I haven’t forgotten that. I just want to make sure you haven’t. The people on the boardwalk were good to you. They didn’t care who your family was or what your problems were. They accepted you without reservation.”
“That’s true,” he agreed, his tone suddenly weary.
“Then how can you think of closing us down?” she asked with a touch of anger.
“Nikki, I can’t make a business decision based on the fact that some people were nice to me years ago. I have to make a decision based on my head, not my heart.”
At that moment, Bridget entered from the kitchen. “What’s this? A new boy on the boardwalk?” Her face beamed a smile as she approached Grey and Nikki. “Greyson Blakemore…all grown-up and looking mighty fine.”
“Hello, Bridget, you’re looking ravishing yourself,” Grey said, returning a smile to the little woman who immediately joined him at the table.
“I heard you were back. It’s about time you returned to your roots. What kept you away for so long?” Bridget asked.
Grey shrugged, his answer lost as Nikki fled into the kitchen. Once there, she leaned against the stainless steel refrigerator door, remembering his arms wrapped around her, the two of them lying in the sand. “Forever,” he’d whispered in her ear and she’d believed him. Damn him for his lies. Damn him for making her think their love could overcome the differences in their backgrounds…anything the world threw at them. Damn him for making forever so very brief.
“Nikki?” Bridget entered the kitchen. “Grey says he’s ready for his tour whenever you are. He’ll wait for you outside.”
Nikki sighed. “I might as well get it over with,” she said more to herself than to Bridget. After taking a deep breath, she walked through the back room and out into the sunshine. “Where to first?” she asked without preamble.
He pulled a handful of papers out of his pocket. “Before he died, my father had been receiving complaints about safety violations. I thought we’d check those out first.”
“I can’t imagine what kind of violations there would be concerning safety. Sure, things need painting, but safety has always been a priority here.”
He handed her one of the papers, a letter written complaining about the hazardous condition of the Ferris wheel. She scanned the contents quickly. “You can’t take this seriously,” she scoffed. “Whoever sent it didn’t even sign it. Probably one of the townspeople who didn’t win a stuffed animal and wrote this in a snit.”
“Still, I intend to take it seriously,” he returned evenly. “Nikki, if there’s any chance of keeping the boardwalk open, I’m going to have to see what kinds of obstacles we’re facing, what kind of financial backing it will take to make Land’s End more profitable. So, we take these things one at a time and check them out, okay?”
Minutes later as Pete Ely, the Ferris wheel owner, showed Grey the documentation of recent safety inspections, Nikki studied Grey, trying to attain some objectivity. It had been easier to maintain distance when she’d seen him before, when he’d been dressed in his tailored suit and expensive dress shirt. But today, wearing a pair of worn dungarees and a short-sleeved sports shirt, he was uncomfortably like the Grey of her youth, the Grey she had loved with a passion that had been all-ending. But the man of her past had made his choices. He chose to end his responsibility to her with an envelope of money. Blakemores didn’t get involved with boardwalk brats—how many times had she been warned of that? Still, she’d been certain in her heart that Grey wasn’t like the other Blakemores. She’d been wrong.
She wished he’d married. Perhaps if he was married, she wouldn’t be feeling the insidious stirrings of temptation. Every time she looked into the dark depths of his eyes, she saw an image of a serpent, whispering that it was safe to taste the juicy apple. But she’d already tasted the meat of the fruit, and she’d discovered that it bore bitter seeds.
“Well, I guess this takes care of that particular issue,” Grey said, frowning as he looked up at the Ferris wheel. “Although it certainly could use a fresh coat of paint.”
“Everything around here could use a fresh coat of paint,” Nikki replied. “We went to your father several months ago and asked if he would be willing to lower the rent for a few months so we could use the extra money to make some improvements, but he refused.”
“Point taken,” he replied as he moved in the direction of the carousel. Nikki lagged behind, dreading to go to the place where it had all begun so many years ago.
His footsteps slowed as he approached the ancient merry-go-round and she wondered if he, too, was entertaining thoughts from the past.
She watched as he stepped up on the carousel’s platform, his feet moving him toward the huge silver steed they’d fought over. He placed a hand on the saddle that had once been such a brilliant blue, but was now worn to the paleness of distant dreams. “It hardly seems worth fighting over now, does it?” He smiled wistfully and ran his hand lightly down the horse’s flank. “In my mind, it was always bigger, brighter.”
“I guess when you look back, you always remember things as being much better than they really were,” she said pointedly.
“Who’s running the equipment now?” he asked, removing his hand from the horse as dark shutters slid into place over his eyes.
“Walt Simon.”
“Walt Simon? He must be a hundred years old by now.”
Nikki couldn’t hide a small smile. Everyone was surprised by Walt’s longevity and eternally youthful spirit. At that moment, Walt himself walked out from behind the ticket booth, his keen blue eyes immediately spying Nikki and Grey.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” he exclaimed, moving toward them with the peculiar gait of age and arthritis. He held out his hand to Grey, who clasped it and shook it vigorously. “Well, I’ll be double damned.” He grinned, a toothless smile that transformed his grizzled, weathered face into that of an innocent child. “I knew you wouldn’t stay away forever. You and Nikki were my very best customers for a lot of summers. First ones on when I opened and the last ones to ride before I’d close up. Remember?”
“I remember,” Grey said, smiling tightly as he dropped the old man’s hand.
“Yes, sir,” Walt said with a wistful smile that fully displayed his toothless gums. “Those were the days. The walkways were filled with people, and I’d have lines of kiddies waiting to ride the fellas.” Walt frowned suddenly. “I don’t get lines anymore.” He looked at Grey anxiously. “Have you come back to help us? Have you come to breathe life back into Land’s End?”
“He doesn’t know whether to breathe life into it or suck the last of its life out of it,” Nikki explained.
“Suck the…you mean close us down?” Walt looked at Grey incredulously. “But, you wouldn’t do that, would you, Grey?”
Grey grimaced. “Walt, I’m trying to make a sound business decision.”
“Grey has taken over the Blakemore family business interests,” Nikki interjected.
“But you never were like the rest of those people,” Walt protested. “Your family always made business decisions, but you always made heart decisions.” He gazed at Grey in sadness. “I don’t understand nothing anymore.” He ran a gnarled hand through his thin, gray hair. “I’ve fought the Blakemores for the past fifty years. I always thought you’d be different…somehow better.”
Nikki noted the slight flush of color that suffused Grey’s face as he stiffened his back. “There’s nothing to understand, Walt. I have obligations and priorities. I am a Blakemore.”
And don’t ever forget it, Nikki mentally added. There was a time when she had forgotten, but she had paid the price and now would never make that mistake again.
“You know, if you decide to close us down and move us off, we won’t make it easy for you,” Walt observed. He grinned like a mischievous boy. “Me and the fellas—” he gestured to the carousel horses “—we can be pretty damn stubborn when we set our minds to it.”
Grey’s eyes glinted with a touch of admiration at Walt’s distinct challenge.
From the carousel they moved on, Grey surveying the condition of the wooden walkways, making notes about everything he saw.
Nikki found herself seeing the area through his eyes, and what she saw made her despair. So much was required, so much needed to be done. Nobody wanted to come to a tourist area that smelled of hopelessness.
What they needed was somebody who cared, somebody who would risk making an investment in the area. Grey’s father, Thomas Blakemore, hadn’t cared. He’d only wanted to collect the rent money due him each month.
Did Grey care? She didn’t know anymore. She didn’t know him anymore. He’d once cared deeply, passionately for this area and its people. She watched him as he studied Jim’s guns at the shooting gallery. Could she somehow tap into those old feelings he’d once had for the boardwalk? For the sake of her friends, she hoped so. But she wasn’t sure if it was possible. After all, he’d also once cared deeply and passionately for her, but that feeling had died a swift and permanent death.
“I don’t know, Nikki,” he said moments later as he moved to where she stood looking out over the water. “It doesn’t look good.” He carefully folded the notes he’d made and placed them into his pocket, knowing he’d spend half the night viewing and reviewing, analyzing and reanalyzing his observations. “I see a lot on the minus side of the balance sheet and not many pluses.”
“There’s one thing you won’t find written down on your reports…the enchantment. Grey, have you forgotten the enchantment of Land’s End? Have you forgotten how this place embraced you, captivated you, make you feel welcome and safe?”
Unconsciously, she reached out and grabbed his forearm. “Grey, you used to say there was magic here. It’s still here, it’s just become tarnished with age, smeared by too much wear and too little care.” She released her hold on him and moved away, the breeze moving her long hair back from her features, the sun creating fires in the dark strands. “We have dreams, Grey. All of us here on the boardwalk, and you hold them in your hands.”
He watched her with narrowed eyes, trying not to see the way the gentle wind molded her T-shirt against her firm, upthrust breasts, trying not to notice the length of her tanned, shapely legs beneath her shorts.
“Dreams are for kids,” he replied brusquely, tearing his gaze away from her and back to the water.
“That’s not true,” she protested. “Dreams are for everyone who has hope, including those here at Land’s End that don’t have money, or have physical handicaps or whatever. The one commodity they have in abundance is hope.” She reached out to grab his arm. “Grey, please don’t take that hope away from us. Give us a chance to tell you our dreams before you make the decision to destroy this place.”
Grey ran his hand through his hair, needing to think, but not knowing what to think. Her words reminded him of what this place had once meant to him. He moved away from her, again looking out to the water as if the answers were all there in the waves.
He also realized something else. Despite the fact that she’d betrayed him, married another and gone on with her life, he still wanted her. He wanted her with a passion that was mindless, careless and insane.
What he didn’t know was if this, too, was merely a lingering emotion from the past, a memory too powerful to dispel. Would making love to her now be the overwhelming experience he remembered it to be, or had he colored their union with sensations intensified through the haze of time?
The memory was a strange kind of thing, easily given to exaggeration and glorification. Grey had made love with other women since Nikki, but never had he reached the same feeling of completeness he had with her. Had that merely been an illusion?
“Grey?”
“All right,” he said, suddenly knowing what he wanted. He gazed at her, wanting to fall into the shadows of her eyes, wanting to replay the past, make their ending different this time. “If you want me to save the boardwalk, you have to show me the magic again.”
She stared at him and he could see the tumultuous emotions in her eyes. Like storm clouds in an early spring sky, they rolled and thundered, but beneath their turbulence, he saw something else, a spark of desire that flamed momentarily, then was quickly doused. She raised her chin and eyed him proudly and he was reminded once again of that first time he’d seen her. Looking back, he wondered if it wasn’t then, that very first time, that he’d fallen in love with her.
She’d been so alien, so exotic-looking compared to the other girls he knew from school. She’d been barefoot, her legs sporting a deep tan that didn’t quite cover the bruised kneecaps and skinned shins.
She looked like a homeless waif, and yet there was the glory of freedom in her eyes, a self-awareness that he found fascinating. She was like an entity from another planet and he wanted to possess her, contain her spirit and learn from it.
He felt the same way now, as he waited for her answer.
She tossed her hair away from her face and looked at him, her eyes glittering with challenge. “Okay, Grey, I’ll show you the magic,” she finally answered.
Unconsciously, he took a step toward her, overcome with the need to take her in his arms, feel her body pressed tightly against his.
Her eyes flared slightly as if she read his intent and she took a step back from him. “I’ve got to get to the theater,” she said as she looked at her watch. With a stiff nod, she turned and fled.
He watched her go, wishing he could call back yesterday, wondering exactly what had gone wrong between them, knowing that it wasn’t over yet. He knew in that instant that he couldn’t go ahead with his future until he resolved this issue from his past. He needed one more night of holding her in his arms. He needed just one more night with her. Then, just maybe, he could finally let her go.
Three
“I can’t believe I actually agreed,” Nikki said the next morning as she poured Bridget a cup of coffee. “Show me the magic, he says, and I say okay. I should have my head examined.”
Bridget reached out and patted Nikki’s arm in consolation. “But if you can show it to him, maybe he’ll save the boardwalk.”
“I don’t even know if it’s possible. Either you see magic or you don’t. It has to exist in your soul before you can see it in the world around you—” She broke off in frustration.
She got up from the table and walked over to the window and peered out into the early morning sunshine. “When a magician pulls a card out of thin air, some people see a man good at sleight of hand, hear a telltale rustle of clothing, notice a furtive grab up a sleeve. Others see only the magic. Grey used to see it, but he’s had seven years to perfect the Blakemore skepticism and disbelief. How can I make him see the magic? What can I possibly do to change his mind about the boardwalk? This whole idea is completely ridiculous.” Nikki sat down at the table and looked at her friend.
Bridget calmly stirred three spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee, a smile wrinkling her perky nose. “I can’t think of anyone more suited to remind Grey of what this boardwalk once was, what it could be again. There is magic here, the magic of wounded people coming together in tolerance, living together in peace, working together and sharing their dreams.”
She reached across the table and grabbed Nikki’s hand in hers. “This boardwalk has given to you all these years. When you were sixteen and your mother died, these people rallied around to make certain you didn’t end up in social services. We’re a family here, and this family is depending on you, Nikki. You must do whatever it takes to make Grey see the magic. You have to do whatever must be done to see that he doesn’t close us down…even if it means forgiving him.”
“Never,” Nikki replied flatly, removing her hand from Bridget’s grasp. “I’ll be civil to him, I’ll do anything else it takes, but I can never, ever forgive him.”
Bridget paused a moment to take a sip of her coffee, her bright eyes studying Nikki over the top of her cup. “You’ll never really be whole again until you get rid of your bitterness,” she observed. “Your anger will keep you forever bound to Grey. You need to talk to him, vent it, forgive him. That’s the only way you can get on with the rest of your life.”
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Carla Cassidy
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современная зарубежная литература
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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О книге: Under The Boardwalk, электронная книга автора Carla Cassidy на английском языке, в жанре современная зарубежная литература