Under The Boardwalk. Carla CassidyЧитать онлайн книгу.

      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