Had he put Olivia up to misleading Llona? If not, then why had he hung up on Llona so abruptly? But why was he avoiding her? Llona wondered. Could she have completely misconstrued what took place between them on her wedding day? Was it just a casual happenstance to him that he wanted to forget?
Llona had to know. She had to be sure one way or the other. "I'd like to meet your husband's cousin," she told Olivia now, putting it to her directly.
"I'm afraid I can't help you." Olivia froze her out.
"Mortimer isn't on very good terms with Arch." She didn't elaborate.
"Oh." Llona didn't know what else to say, so she bid Olivia a strained goodbye and hung up. She brooded over the situation for a while and then decided to call Sammy Spayed again.
He readily provided her with Arch Phelps's address. Llona showered then, selected her perfume, and dressed carefully. She was going to get to the bottom of this herself. She was going to confront Arch Phelps, and if he was her Archer, she was going to determine the true extent of his feelings about her. One way or another, she was going to settle the whole matter. But Llona was feminine enough to want to give herself every advantage in the confrontation. So the dress she elected to wear was sexily snug-fitting and suggestively low-cut.
It was 10:30 p.m. when she arrived at Arch Phelps's apartment. She'd made one attempt to call first, but the phone hadn't been answered. She gambled that the reason wasn't that he was out, but rather that he was still stubbornly avoiding her call. But when she rang his doorbell three times without getting any response, she began to think that perhaps she was wrong, that perhaps he really had gone out after hanging up on her, that perhaps she'd come on a wild goose chase.
Tentatively she tried the doorknob. The door swung open easily. Llona stepped into the foyer and shut it behind her.
She advanced a few steps toward the living room and rapped loudly on the wall with her fist. There was still no response. She paused a moment, and the sound of running water reached her ears.
Hesitantly, Llona crossed the living room to a small hallway on the other side which led to. the rear of the apartment. Now the sound of running water was louder and identifiable as a bathroom shower. Determined,
Llona knocked on the door from behind which the sound emanated. A second, louder knock brought an answer.
"Yo?" The deep, masculine voice mingled with the sound of the running water.
Llona couldn't decide whether it was the voice of the lover she sought or not. It had been so long, and she was afraid her memory-and her hopes-might play tricks on her. "Mr. Phelps?" She wanted to hear the voice again, to have another opportunity of judging it.
"Hello?" A faucet must have been turned; the sound of rushing water receded. "Who goes there? Friend or foe?" The voice was jovial, fresh with energy from the shower.
"Could I see you, Mr. Phelps? I'd like to talk to you."
"Do you really want to see me?" His tone was teasing. "That's very broad-minded of you, considering my dampish and unclothed state. Now, I wonder just who it might be, with such an intriguing voice, who slips into my apartment and makes such a request."
"I didn't mean that. Couldn't you slip on a robe or something and come out here and talk to me?"
"My robe is in my bedroom closet."
"Should I get it for you?"
"Absolutely not! My bedroom is an absolute disaster area. We bachelors have our pride, you know. I could never face you if you'd set eyes on that mess. Please stay out of there."
"All right."
There was a pause before he spoke again. "I've never been one for ogling the craws of gift horses," he said, "but tell me, are you as attractive as you sound?"
"I'm young and beautiful. Modesty forbids me to say more."
"I congratulate you on your modesty." He chuckled. "But how do I know you're not exaggerating?"
"Come out and see for yourself."
"How can I refuse?" The whoosh of water ceased altogether and there was the faint sound of bare feet padding across the bathroom tiles.
"No! Wait!" Llona had second thoughts. "Are you wearing anything?"
"Not a stitch." The voice came from just the other side of the bathroom door now.
"Then don't come out! Don't you dare!"
"I wish you'd make up your mind." The sound of a toilet lid being lowered said he'd sat down while waiting for her to reach some decision. "Just who are you, anyway?" he asked after a moment.
"A girl who's very anxious to see you in the flesh," Llona answered truthfully.
"Well, the door is unlocked. There's nothing stopping you."
"I didn't mean that literally."
"Why do you want to see me?" he asked.
"I think I know you."
"Well, that seems logical. Considering that you've let yourself into my apartment unannounced in the middle of the night."
"The door was open. And it's not the middle of the night. It's not even eleven o'clock yet."
"You're right. The night is young. And if you've described yourself accurately, I'm all for making the most of it."
"I don't know yet whether I'll agree to that or not."
"When will you know?" There was just a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice.
"After I see you."
"But how can you see me if you don't want me to come out and you won't come in?"
"I didn't say I wouldn't come in."
"Oh?" He thought a moment. "Oh! Well please don't hesitate. You're more than welcome."
"Is there a curtain around your shower?" "Yes."
"Then get back inside and draw the curtain and I'll come into the bathroom."
"For a girl who came voluntarily into my apartment, you're awfully particular. Somehow I have the feeling that I'm the one who should be setting conditions."
"I wish I could decide whether your voice is familiar or not," Llona mused aloud. "But your bathroom gives it such a hollow ring that I can't tell. Maybe if I was in the same room…"
"I already told you that you're welcome to come in here."
"Are you in the shower?"
"Oh, all right." There was the sound of footsteps padding. "I'm in the shower," he announced.
"Is the curtain drawn?"
There was the sound of curtain rings sliding across a metal rod. "It is now," he told her.
Llona entered the bathroom. Hidden behind the shower curtain, Arch Phelps had left just enough room so that he could see out. As she came into his line of vision, he whis-much!
tied silently to himself. He liked what he saw-very
"Just who are you?" he asked.
Llona elected to ignore the question for the time being. "I still can't tell from your voice," she decided. "It still echoes. If I could see your face…"
"You can see all of me."
"That won't be necessary. Can't you just part the curtains a little and stick your head out?"
Arch parted the curtains and stuck his head out. However, Llona's calculatedly sultry appearance, the aroma of her titillating perfume which filled the bathroom, and the realization of his nudity so close to such an erotically stimulating young female had combined to arouse a certain physical reaction in Arch. It was the evidence of that arousal which inadvertently parted the shower curtain below his head as it appeared and pointed quaveringly in Llona's direction.
Llona looked at the face and her shoulders sagged. "Oh, no!" she exclaimed disappointedly. "You're not my Archer." Her eyes fell with the disappointment. "Oh, my!" she noticed. "You certainly are a lot like him, though."
"Just what was it you wanted?" Arch asked insinuatingly, his eyes following her eyes and a small smile crossing his lips.
"I-I'm not sure." Llona's confusion grew out of the inflamed feelings brought on at the sight of his manhood and the knowledge that she should really leave now that she had determined that he wasn't the man she sought. Thus distracted by her feelings, her next words were a compromise, but a compromise that was weighted by desire beyond her control. "Did you- Did you hurt yourself, or something?" She pointed to a circular ridge of scar tissue around the member parting the lower portion of the shower curtain,