“That’s all right,” she said. “You didn’t bother me. I was just sitting here enjoying my first solitary moment in the past several weeks.”
“All the more reason I should apologize, ma’am,” I replied. “I know just how you feel. I’ve been on the go, running from meetings here in Washington, to Dallas, to New York for almost three weeks now and I’m tuckered out talking to people. I feel like a cayuse that’s been in the corral for a spell without a good run on his own.” Silently, I hoped I wasn’t overdoing my accent.
“Are you a Texan, Mr., ah…?”
“Carter, ma’am. Nick Carter. Yes, ma’am, I sure am. I was born not far from Poteet, down in Atacosa County. How did you know?”
“Cowboy, you can take the boy out of Texas, but you can’t take Texas out of the boy. And I should know; I’m a Texan, too.”
“Well I’ll be—” I exploded. “How about that? But you sure don’t look like a Texas girl.” I let my eyes move with less caution up and down her lush, skimpily clad body again, then tried to lift them to her face with a sheepishly guilty expression. Her satisfied smile told me I’d succeeded in flattering her the way she obviously enjoyed flattery.
“I’ve been away from Texas for a long time,” she said, adding almost sadly, “Too long.”
“Well, ma’am, that’s not very good,” I sympathized. “At least I get back home pretty often. Not as much as I’d like to lately, though. It seems I spend most of my time running back and forth between here and New York, trying to explain to the people here why we aren’t bringing up more oil, and to the people in New York why people down here can’t understand that you don’t just turn the faucet more and let more flow out.” My drawl was coming easier now that it had convinced a native Texan.
“You’re in the oil business, Mr. Carter?”
“Yes, ma’am. But don’t blame me if you can’t get enough gas. Blame it on those Arabs over there.” Then, as if suddenly remembering where we were talking, I said, “Ma’am, I’m real sorry, keeping you standing here.
I know you were enjoying being by yourself when I interrupted and I’ll just mosey on back to my—”
“That’s all right, Mr. Carter. I’ve been enjoying just listening to you talk. I haven’t heard a twang like yours for a long tune, ever since… for a long time now. It sounds good and it reminds me of home. By the way,” she went on, extending a hand, “my name is Candy, Candy. Knight.”
“It’s a real pleasure, ma’am,” I said, taking her hand. The skin was soft, but the grip was firm and she shook hands like a man, not with that dead-fish grip some women offer. As if struck by a sudden inspiration, I rushed on. “Ma’am, would you like to have dinner with me? Uh, that is if there’s no Mr. Knight to object.”
“There’s no Mr. Knight,” she said, again with a touch of sadness in her voice. “But what about Mrs. Carter?”
“There’s no Mrs. Carter, either. I just never had the time to tie myself down that way.”
“Well, Mr. Carter—”
“Nick, please, ma’am.”
“Only if you call me Candy and forget about that ma’am for a while.”
“Yes, ma’am… uh… Candy.”
“Well, Nick, I really don’t feel up to going out for dinner.” Then, seeing my look of obvious disappointment, she hurried on. “But why couldn’t we just have dinner in the hotel? Maybe even right here? I don’t want to be alone so much that I’d pass up a chance to talk to a real live Texan again.”
“Fine, Miss Candy… uh… Candy. That sounds just great. Say, why don’t you just let me rustle up something from room service and get it all set up in my digs and surprise you. That way, you wouldn’t even have to dress.” She glanced down at her negligee that had gapped widely during her animated conversation, then lifted coyly accusing eyes at mine, which had followed her gaze. “I mean, uh, you could just slip into something comfortable and not worry about getting all dressed up.”
“Don’t you think this is comfortable, Nick?” she asked archly, as she pulled the peignoir a bit tighter in the front, as if that would do anything at all to conceal her bosom beneath the gauzy material.
“It looks like it to me,” I began, then, playing embarrassed again, I added, “I mean if you’re coming down to my room, you might not want to wear that through the hall.”
She stuck her head out the door, looked pointedly along the twenty-odd feet or so to my door, and said, “You’re right, Nick. It is a long walk and I wouldn’t want to shock anybody at the Watergate.” Then added with a wink, “There’s been enough scandal around here already. All right, give me an hour or so and I’ll be over.” A laugh came into her voice as she added coyly, “And I’ll try to be careful not to let anybody see me coming to your room.”
“Oh, ma’am, I didn’t mean that,” I blurted, purposely backing away and stumbling over my feet. “I meant—
“I know what you meant, you big Texan,” she said, laughing heartily at my apparent embarrassment as I continued to back toward my door. “I’ll see you in an hour. And I warn you, I’m starved.”
It turned out food wasn’t the only thing she had a craving for.
It was hard to believe that someone with such a slender figure was packing away so much at one meal. And as she ate, the words spilled out. We talked about my job and Texas, which logically led into her explaining how she happened to be in Adabi and ended up as companion to Sherima. She faltered only once, when it came to discussing her father’s death. “Then my father got mur—” she started to say at one point, only to change it to “And then my father died and I was left alone…”
By the time I served the chocolate mousse, which the waiter had put in the kitchenette’s almost bare refrigerator to keep it cold, Candy had gone over her background pretty thoroughly. It checked out closely with what I already knew from the AXE report, except for the way she avoided any reference to men in her life. But I wasn’t about to bring that up. It was difficult to keep from thinking about, however, as I watched that firm body straining at every seam, or as she bent over to pick up a napkin that had slipped from her lap and one.perfectly formed breast almost escaped from the deep V of her shirtfront.
My hands were itching to get inside that shirt and I had a feeling she knew it. At the end of the dinner, as I got behind Candy to help her from her chair, I suddenly leaned over to kiss her full on the mouth, then pulled quickly away. “I’m sorry. I just couldn’t resist… ma’am.”
The big hazel eyes were soft as she spoke. “The only thing I object to, Nick, is that ma’am. The rest I liked…”
“Let’s try again, then.” I took her in my arms and pressed my lips over her full mouth. She tensed briefly, then I felt the warmth flooding into her lips as they parted. Slowly, but instinctively, she responded to my caresses, relaxing into my arms. I held her tighter, moving one hand slightly forward until my fingers rested just below the curve of a breast. She moved in my arms so that my hand slid upward and I cupped her tenderly, then more harshly as I felt a nipple swelling and hardened under my fingers.
Candy sank back on the couch and I followed her, my lips still glued to hers in a kiss that seemed without end. She moved aside to give me room to stretch out beside her, never saying a word. She didn’t need to, for I felt her body mold itself against me. Her eyes had been closed, but they opened wide, seeming afraid or confused for a moment before closing again.