Free The Players by Gary Brandner Page B

trying to talk her into a reconciliation, but it was obvious to Paula even then that it would never work. As Eric grew steadily more irrational Paula at last forbade him to come again. Since then she had kept her little place as a sanctuary where she could isolate herself from bad news and from business and from men. Now she was bringing Mike Wilder into her private life. Paula hoped she was not making another mistake.

CHAPTER 12
    Paula Teal’s flat was on a quiet, elm-shaded street of sturdy old apartment blocks.
    “I’m on the first floor,” she said to Mike when the taxi stopped out in front. “Christy lives just above me.”
    They walked together up the short path to the entrance. Paula unlocked the door and started up a flight of stairs just inside.
    “I thought you were on the first floor,” Mike said.
    “You Americans,” she said in mock exasperation. “You really could use some instruction in the English language. We are now on the ground floor. One flight up is the first floor. After that the second, and so on.”
    “I should have remembered that,” Mike said. “It’s like saying petrol for gasoline and crumpets for doughnuts.”
    Paula smiled at him. “I can see we’ve some work to do on your translation. Come along.”
    Paula snapped on the light in her flat and Mike stepped inside and looked around. It was small, furnished in muted colors, and very clean.
    “Nice,” he said.
    “It’s a bit on the quiet side, I suppose, but then that’s my nature. It’s not much like New York here, is it?”
    “Not much. For one thing there’s no security guard downstairs. Don’t you have crime in London?”
    “Oh, I’m afraid we have our share. Not as bad as I hear New York is, but just last month I had a burglary right here.”
    “What did he take?”
    “That’s the odd thing, nothing was missing except some of my personal papers. Including my letters from you, as a matter of fact, and your picture.”
    “Now there’s a burglar with peculiar tastes,” Mike said, grinning. “So you kept my letters, did you?”
    Paula turned away in sudden embarrassment. “May I get you a drink?”
    “That sounds good.”
    “Whisky and water?”
    “Fine.”
    Why, Paula wondered, did she feel so terribly nervous? Anyone would think she’d never been alone with a man before. Well, the truth of it was there hadn’t been all that many.
    “Is anything wrong?” Mike asked, following her to the door of the tiny kitchen.
    “Wrong? No, of course not. Why?”
    ‘The way you dashed out here like something was after you.”
    Paula put down the glasses she had’ taken from the shelf and walked over to stand before Mike. He put his arms around her and drew her close. He kissed her, and his kiss was blessedly gentle. She liked the warmth of his hands on her back.
    She said, “I was just asking myself what I was so nervous about. I had hoped to be very blasé and sophisticated, but actually it’s quite an event for me to have a man in my rooms.”
    He grinned down at her. “It’s an event for me too. Now how about mixing those drinks? Do you have a record player?”
    “Yes, out in the sitting room.”
    “I’ll pick out something seductive while you’re pouring the booze.”
    Paula felt herself relax as she heard Mike sorting through the records. He really was awfully understanding. Carefully she poured the two drinks—lighter on the whisky for hers. She was not accustomed to drinking much, and she wanted to be clear-headed for whatever was to happen tonight.
    When Paula returned to the sitting room Mike had an album of Cole Porter on the record player. He stood up and smiled as he took the glass from her hand.
    “Shall we sit over here?” Paula asked, indicating a settee across from the record player. Why, she wondered, did everything she said tonight sound so schoolgirlish to her own ears? She so wanted everything to go well. Please, she thought, don’t let anything ruin it.
    “Have you lived here long?”