Danielle Steel: Heartbeat

“Just tired, I guess. Sometimes this place gets to me.”

“At least we know you're still sane.” Zelda smiled at her. She was a pretty woman, and Adrian guessed that she was about forty.

“Doesn't it ever get to you? Christ, the news is always so depressing.”

“I never listen to it.” She shrugged indifferently. “And most nights when I get out of here, I go dancing.”

“I think you've got the right idea.” Most nights, Adrian went home, and Steven was already sound asleep and snoring gently. But at least they had breakfast together in the morning, and there were always weekends.

Adrian struggled through her paperwork for the next four hours, and then she checked out the studio before the late news, chatted with the anchors, and read all the hottest stories. It was actually a pretty quiet night, and she could hardly wait to get home to Steven. She knew he was having dinner out with friends, but she was pretty sure he'd be home when she finished work. He seldom stayed out very late, unless there was something to be gained from it, like some important business with a client.

The late show went fine, predictably, and at eleven thirty-five she was on her way home on the Santa Monica Freeway. She walked in her front door at five minutes to midnight, and the bedroom lights were still on, and her heart leapt with glee as she took the stairs to their bedroom two at a time, and then she laughed when she saw him. Steven was sound asleep on his side of the bed, arms spread out like a boy, exhausted and relaxed after a hard day at the office followed by a lively game of squash and an early dinner. He was out for the count and no amount of rustling around the room would rouse him.

“Well, Prince Charming,” Adrian whispered with a grin as she sat down next to him in her nightgown, “looks like it's a wrap, as they say in my business.” She kissed him gently on the cheek and he never stirred as she turned off the light and curled up on her own side of the bed. And as she lay there, she thought about being late again, but she knew it was probably nothing.

WHEN ADRIAN WOKE UP AT NINE-FIFTEEN, SHE could smell bacon cooking downstairs, and she could hear Steven clattering around in the kitchen. She smiled to herself as she rolled over in bed. She loved Saturdays, loved having him around, loved it when he brought her breakfast in bed and they made love afterward.

She could hear him coming up the stairs as she thought of it, he was humming to himself, banging the tray against the door as he came through, and she could hear the stereo downstairs playing Bruce Springsteen.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.” He grinned down at her in their bed, and set the tray down beside her as she stretched and smiled in answer. He was a vision of handsome young manhood. His hair was still wet from the shower he'd taken before she woke up and he was wearing fresh white tennis clothes, his long, shapely legs were tanned, and from where she lay, Steven's shoulders looked enormous.

“You know, you're pretty cute, for a guy who can cook.” She smiled up at him and propped herself up on one elbow.

“So are you, lazybones.” He sat down next to her on the bed, and she laughed at him.

“You should have seen yourself passed out here last night.”

“I had a tough day, and I was beat after we played squash.” He looked faintly embarrassed and made it up to her by kissing her promisingly just as she took a bite of bacon.

“Are you playing tennis today?” she inquired. She knew him well. He loved competitive sports, especially squash and tennis.

“Yeah. But not until eleven-thirty.” He glanced at his watch and smiled at her, and she laughed again, but before she could say anything, he had peeled off his tennis clothes and slipped into bed beside her.

“Now what's this all about, Mr. Townsend? Won't this weaken your tennis game?” She loved to tease him about his intense seriousness about his tennis.

“It might.” He looked pensive and she laughed again. And then he turned to her with a sexy smile. “But it could just be that you're worth it.”

“Could be? Could be? …You've got some nerve!” But he silenced her with a kiss, and a few minutes later they had both forgotten his tennis game, and half an hour later she was dozing contentedly in his arms, and he was gently stroking her shining black hair as it fell over her cheek and she purred at him. “Personally …I'd rather do that than play tennis anyday. …” She opened one eye and reached up to kiss him.

“So would I.” He stretched lazily, and an hour later he hated to get out of bed to go and shower again before he went to play with a man who lived in the complex and Steven knew only as “Harvey.”

“Are you coming back for lunch?” she inquired, and he shouted back that he'd make himself a salad when he got back, and he reminded her again about going to the Jameses' party that night at seven. But it was going to be a tight squeeze for her. She had learned the night before that she was going to have to be at work for the evening news, and then go back to be there again for the late show. It would mean dressing for the party before she went to work, and then rushing back to meet Steven at home to go to the party, or maybe even meeting him there, and then leaving at a decent hour to get to work again. But she knew the party was important to him, and she was going to join him for it no matter how hectic it made her evening. She always tried never to let Steven down, and particularly not to let her work interfere with their home life. Unlike Steven, who traveled a great deal of the time, but that just made it easier for her to work late whenever she had to.

Steven was back, dripping wet, at two o'clock, and beaming at his victory. He had easily beaten Harvey. “He's fat and out of shape, and he admitted to me after the second set that he hasn't given up smoking. The poor bastard is lucky he didn't have a heart attack on the court.”

“I hope you went easy on him,” Adrian said from the kitchen, where she had just made lemonade for him, but they both knew that he probably hadn't.

“He didn't deserve it. He's really kind of a jerk.” She had his salad ready, too, and she put both in front of him and told him she'd have to go to work before they went out, but he didn't seem to mind. He didn't even seem to mind it when she told him she had to go in for the late show. “That's okay. I can catch a ride home with someone else. You can take my car.”

“I can even come back and pick you up.” She looked apologetically at him. “I'm really sorry. If there weren't people out and the producer weren't sick. …”

“No problem. As long as you can make it for a while, that's fine.”

She looked at him questioningly then as he ate the salad she had made for him. “Why is this party so important to you, sweetheart? Something big going on I don't know about?” Maybe another important promotion.

He looked mysterious for a moment and then he grinned at her. “If everything goes all right tonight, I might get the IMFAC account, or at least I'll get a shot at it. I got some inside information last week that they're unhappy with their current agency and they're looking around quietly. I gave them a call, and Mike was really excited about it. He might even let me fly out to Chicago on Monday to see them.”

“My God, that's an enormous account.” That was impressive, even for him. IMFAC was one of the biggest advertising accounts in the country.

“Yes, it is. I'll probably be gone all week, but I'm sure you'll agree it's worth it.”

“It sure is.” She sat back in her chair and looked at him. He was a remarkable man. At thirty-four, he just wasn't going to stop until he had gotten everything he wanted. But one had to admire him, particularly when one looked back at where he came from. She had tried to point that out to her parents over the years, but they seemed determined to ignore all his good qualities, and all they did was harp on the negative side of his ambitions. As though it were a crime to want to succeed, to get ahead. At least she didn't think so. He had a right to accomplish what he wanted to, didn't he? And he had a need to win. Sometimes she even felt sorry for him because that need was so acute in him. It really hurt him, almost physically, when he lost, even at tennis.