Under The Boardwalk

“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

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

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.