Milo ...Smolder

       By Pattie Lawler                 

           

            The pop of a smoldering log woke Albany. She blinked at the cooling fire and tried to place herself. Rolling her eyes to the left, however, betrayed all.

            An arm’s length away, flat on his back and softly snoring, Milo lay.

            Warmth filled her heart as she smiled at him. She guessed he was responsible for the heavy quilt that covered her and further conjectured that the second quilt, balled at his feet, must have once covered him. In her mind’s eye she saw him, carefully draping the blanket over her, and this tender image forced her into action. She rose and crawled toward him to repay the favor.

            Kneeling over him to shake his blanket straight, her view was obscured for a second. His arms flew around her waist and he twisted hard. Pinned beneath him, she let out a yelp.

            “Miss Wendel!” he gasped, his eyes wide.

            “Mr. Scarlet.”

            “What are you doing?”

            “Attempting to cover you.”

            “Ah.” He raised his head up enough to confirm this and then looked back at her, grinning. “Occupational hazard, I’m afraid. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since high school.”

            “My condolences.”

            “Duly noted and appreciated.”

            “Is there nowhere you can relax?”

            “Home.”

            “Home?” She feigned surprise. “You have a home? Where?”

            His eyes narrowed, though his grin didn’t fade. “Do I trust you?”

            She considered and then shook her head. “Better not. Now, can you get off me, please? You’ve a bad habit of laying on me, and I can’t breathe.”

            He slipped off, but didn’t let go. “You’re warm.”

            His dark gaze roamed over her face and hair. She fancied for a second that his eyes were actually caressing her, so intense was his gaze. And it wasn’t his weight that kept her from drawing breath. He smelled pleasantly of vanilla and leather, and she had a wild desire to press her face against his neck and simply breathe. Instead, she forced herself to speak.

            “I’m warm because I don’t throw the blankets off. You should try it.”

            “Perhaps I will.” His arms drew together, moving her closer. “Do you know you have the most beautiful mouth? I noticed last night and spent the evening watching your lips.”

            She decided to change the subject before her wits deserted her altogether. “Why...” Her voice, it seemed, had anticipated her wits and had already fled. She tried again. “Why are you sleeping out here at all? A penthouse this size must have a master bedroom. I insist.”

            “I’ll inform management.”

            “And while we await their response, you sleep on the living room floor?”

            “Only when my guest has made it her bed for the evening. I thought to carry you to one of the suddenly inferior bedrooms, but decided to share the carpet with you instead. And besides, you looked so angelic, I didn’t want to risk waking you.”

            “So you don’t number levitation among your many skills?”

            “Do I have many skills?”

            “One would assume.”

            He chuckled, his eyes alight. “You’ve formed an interesting image of me. Tell me more about myself.”

            “You're somewhere between Indiana Jones and Raffles. Like a Gentleman Thief; and Raul is your arch nemesis, like that guy in Raiders of the Lost Ark.”

            “Yes, but unlike ‘that guy’ in Raiders, I always win.”

            “Fanny would know his name.”

            Milo agreed as he sat up, carrying her with him. “She watches too many movies and remembers them all.”

            “It’s the age.”

            “Do you think?” He sounded hopeful, and Albany smiled before twisting to reach for her blanket.

            But Milo pulled her back, swung his blanket around his back like a cape, and leaned forward, engulfing her. “Do you mind?”

            She shook her head and tucked herself into the circle of his arms. “Where’s Fanny’s family?”

            “Do you typically sing trouser roles?”

            Surprised by this blatant evasion, she nodded, allowing her question to remain unanswered. “When there’s one on the menu, they turn to me. Other than that, I languish in secondary roles. I don’t mind. It pays the bills.”

            “Ouch. That was bitter.”

            She shrank a little as she murmured, “I’m sorry I’m so obvious.”

            He laughed, squeezing her. “I discovered, long ago, that honesty is the only path. No matter how painful, no matter how damaging.”

            Albany nodded against his chin. “I’ll remember that.”

 

<0>

 

            “Fanny and I are going out,” Albany announced over breakfast. “I need some clothes, and Fanny’s offered to help me shop.”

            Milo looked thoughtful before nodding. “Simon can drive you.”

            “No, Simon can stay home. He’s too obvious. Fanny and I can take a taxi just like any other New Yorker.”

            Milo looked hard at his niece. “Make sure you have your cell before you leave the building.”

            “I’ll give Joe my number,” Albany offered.

            Milo’s gaze dropped to his coffee. “You could just give it to me.”

            “Only if you give me yours.” She met his grin with one of her own.

 

            “Have you kissed Uncle Milo?”

            Albany’s breath caught, and she struggled for thought. Patiently waiting, Fanny held out a skirt for her to try on. Forcing herself to breathe, Albany smiled and continued to dress. “No, Fanny. I haven’t.”

            “Why not?”

            Again she blanched, but thought of an excuse while zipping the skirt closed. “Because it’s not nice to kiss someone who doesn’t want to be kissed.”

            “But Uncle Milo loves to be kissed! I kiss him all the time. He says kisses are better than chocolate.”

            “Your kisses,” Albany laughed, turning to slip a sheer, blue blouse off its hanger. She finished dressing and stood back so Fanny could get a better look at her. “Do we like this?”

            Fanny scrutinized the assembly before nodding. “I think it needs jewelry.”

            “You’re your uncle’s child, that’s for sure. I’ll tell you what, we’ll head for Soho and window shop, how’s that?”

            They paid for her purchases and hand in hand, made for the street.

 

            “You’re back early,” Milo said, looking up from the book that lay open on the sofa beside him.

            Fanny rushed across the foyer, skipped down the step into the living room and threw herself into Milo’s arms. He rocked back with the impact, hugging her hard. “Did you buy anything?”

            “Nope,” Fanny murmured from her position around his neck.

            He looked at Albany. “I notice a lack of bags.”

            “They’re in the taxi.”

            “Oh.” The single syllable said everything, and he sobered in that second. Supporting Fanny, he rose. “You’re leaving?”

            Albany nodded, pushing her hands into her coat pockets, hugging herself. “I’m on for the backstage tour today.”

            “I see.” He glanced at his niece as he released her. Without a word, Fanny made for the bedrooms. Albany smiled at her as she passed, thanking her for her company, and won a warm smile in reply.

            “I’ll walk you out,” he offered, moving to her side and summoning the elevator.

            It wasn’t until they were standing beside the open door of the taxi that either spoke.

            “Thank you.” Albany smiled up at him. “I had fun.”

            “So did I. I’d like to see you again.”

            “I’d like that too. I have a performance the next two nights—”

            “Male or female?”

            She laughed, dropping into the car. “Should I call you, or will you call me?”

            “I’ll see what my schedule looks like and call you.” With a parting grin, he closed the door and turned for the lobby.

 

<0>

           

A week passed, and Albany went through every gradation of emotion: happiness, hope, disappointment, fear, shame and finally annoyance trotted through her heart until only aggravation lingered. The phone had been in her hand countless times, but always his parting words kept her from dialing.

            Standing before the hotel, looking up at the penthouse, she wondered what she would say to him. Thousands of things had already passed her lips, most of them shouted at the bleach-white tiles of her shower, and now her carefully memorized lines had fled.

            Striding past the smiling doorman, she made for the express elevator, only to be stopped by the receptionist.

            “Miss Wendel,” he called, hurrying toward her. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow you...Mr. Scarlet has checked out.”

            Albany’s jaw went slack as she gaped at him.

            He was nodding. “They left last week.”

            A week ago! She willed her voice to work, where her brain could not and managed one word. “Message?”

            “I’m sorry.”

 

<0>

 

            Tonight she was Princess Eboli, desperately in love and rejected by the object of her affections.

            Life is just like that sometimes.

            The costumer had gone for ‘historic’ accuracy, and so Albany sported an eyepatch as she bewailed her beauty. Nearly blinded by the stage lights, she slumped to the stage while Eboli anguished over the specter of life in a convent, only to struggle to her feet in the cumbersome costume as she swore to save the man she loved.

And there was, as the lights faded with the music, a pool of scarlet in the premium seats.

By the time the house lights rose on the next scene, she was sure she had fancied what she felt denied. During the curtain calls, she plastered a smile on her lips and kept her eye on the back of the theater.

 

<0>

 

            Albany turned off her dressing room light when a gloved hand closed on her wrist, spun her around and pulled her back into the dark room. A second of shock melted with the scent of leather. He closed the door and used his body to press her against it.

            “I owe you an apology.”

            “You owe me nothing, Mr. Scarlet. I’m sure that a man as busy as you needs time to check his schedule, and a week simply isn’t enough. We mere mortals plan by the day, not by the second.”

            “Albany...it’s not what you think.”        

            “Oh? You read minds? I should have guessed.” She pushed her shoulder against him, trying to free herself. “Let me go. I’m exhausted, Milo.”

            He didn’t budge but changed tracks and bent to her ear, wrapping her in a veil of warmth and cologne. “You were splendid tonight.”

            “Cards and flowers can be left at the stage door—”

            “Albany!”

            “No! Milo! No. You hurt me! A lot. I was frantic for days; thinking you were dead, thinking Fanny had been kidnapped. You can’t imagine what I’ve been through! You said you would call, and I believed you. I trusted you.” She put both hands against his chest and registered that he was solid muscle as she tried to shove him aside. “Let me go...please.”

            “Is that what you want?”

            “What I want? What I want is to be kissed senseless. I would make love to you standing here if I didn’t hurt so much. You blew it, Milo. Totally.”

            He stepped back, releasing her. “I’m so sorry, Albany.”

            The anger drained away, and she relented. “Just tell me, is everything alright? No one’s hurt or anything?”

            “Yes, no, and thank you for worrying. Everyone is fine, and Fanny misses you.”

            Albany almost snorted but was silent as she turned and fumbled for the doorknob.

            “Can I take you home?”

            “No, thank you. It’s too much trouble for Simon to remove your lampreys.”

            “Simon’s home with everyone else.”

            She paused. “You’re alone?”

            “The last night I saw you, I had to leave for France...immediately. I sent them home. I’m still supposed to be in Paris. I snuck out. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

            She could hear the smile in his voice as she turned back. “You came here—”

            “To see you.”

            “But—”

            “You’re not the only one who’s had a terrible week, imagining the worst. I had to see you to save my sanity.” He stepped closer, a gloved hand stroking her jaw. “And I’d like nothing more than to kiss you senseless.”

            Albany gasped, looking down as the doorknob turned in her hand. She stiffened, and Milo deftly swung her around, placing them beside the slowly opening door. A flashlight was pushed into the room, switched on, and swept the area to loiter on the vanity. On her messages.

            In the dim light from the hall, Milo threw her a questioning look, and Albany shook her head.

            They waited as the unknown person crept into the room. At the last possible second, Milo pulled her into the hall, and they raced for the stage door.

            “They’re probably looking for anything from you,” Albany whispered as they ran. “My messages aren’t that interesting.”

            Milo looked back, over her head, confirming they were alone. “What do you typically get?”

            “Mostly my voice coach. She says I don’t apply myself enough. I get the random request for a private concert, but I’m under contract, so I ignore them.”

            “So...what you’re saying is, you won’t sing for me,” he chuckled as they escaped into the cold night air.

 

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