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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.
