Jennifer Crusie Bundle

by Jennifer Crusie

  Tess stopped. “What?”

  “Forget it.” Nick stripped off his shirt and reached for her, shaking slightly as her skin touched his. Then he pulled her down on top of him to feel the soft weight of her on his chest. “God, you feel wonderful.”

  She kissed him again, biting his lip, and he lost himself in her heat, trailing his hand solidly down the curve of her back, pulling her hips tight against his and then rolling her under him, all without losing her mouth.

  All he lost was his mind.

  NICK WAS EVERYTHING Tess craved, all that solidity and security and excitement in one broad body pulsing against her. His weight anchored her as her mind moved into instinct and heat. Her fingers traced the corded lines of his back, her lips touched all the warm places she’d promised herself but never tasted. She shuddered under his hands, feeling soft and liquid against his hard heat, loving the way her body pressed against his, feeling every difference between them, hard and soft, rough and smooth, salt and sweet, until they rolled together, laughing and trembling at the desire that was driving them together. And because it was Nick, everything was easy and safe; the condom was in his pajama pocket, and then on Nick, and then pressed against her, and she moved against him, grateful for his care and crazy for his touch.

  And then Nick smiled at her, a smile that was lazy and thick with lust, and whispered, “Now,” and pulled her hips to his, and she arched to meet him, and the shock of him moving inside her made her clutch at him while he moaned into her throat, and she relished the way he filled her until her eyes lost their focus. Then they weren’t playing anymore; there was too much need. Tess wrapped herself around him, trying to rock away the sudden mind-bending craving, scraping her fingernails down his back, biting into his shoulder as he surged hard against her, until finally the twisting hunger came welling up in her and she cried out. He muffled her mouth with his, pounding against her, inside her, leaving her mindless. And then they both lay shuddering together, twisted in the sheets, silenced by the shock of their coupling.

  And when Nick finally moved away from her, Tess’s sigh was more of a laugh, and he gathered her back close and kissed her, and she fell asleep, cradled against his chest.

  Six

  Early the next morning, Tess sat on Welch’s whitewashed pasture fence a hundred yards from the mansion’s front door and brooded. She pulled her navy jacket closer around her and looked out at the rolling landscape: long-muscled horses, lush emerald green grass, a sky too blue to be real, all caressed by a gentle breeze perfumed with honeysuckle.

  Bah humbug, she thought. And those damn birds can shut up, too.

  “You look like hell this morning,” Gina said from behind her, and Tess jerked in surprise, grabbing the fence post to keep from falling off. She frowned down at her friend, and Gina, swathed in a bulky black turtleneck, leaned against the fence, her face a mask of gloom. “If you’re thinking about ending it all, wait—’cause I’m gonna go with you.”

  “Don’t joke,” Tess said. “It’s a thought.”

  “I know why I’m depressed,” Gina said. “I embarrassed myself and Park to pieces last night, and now I’m never gonna see him again, which I knew, anyway, but I still kinda had hopes. You know? Oh, hell.” Gina climbed onto the fence beside Tess and twined her black-clad legs around the fence rails. “Why are you so upset? You and Nick have a fight?”

  “No,” Tess said gloomily. “We made love. It was wonderful. Then I woke up and he was gone. But he left a note.” She fished a piece of paper out of her jacket pocket and handed it to Gina.

  “‘Gone to see Welch about the contract,”’ Gina read. “‘Things look good. See you at lunch. Nick.”’ She frowned at Tess. “Are you sure you made love? ’Cause if you did, I don’t think he remembers it.”

  “Well, I thought so.” Tess sighed. “But I must have been wrong. And I was feeling so warm about him, too.” She kicked her heel against the fence as she remembered. “I was all soft and squishy about it. And then he drops me a line as he leaves. He didn’t even wake me up to kiss me. The contract comes first.” She exhaled a long depressed breath. “I can’t believe I fell for him again. It’s not as if I didn’t know he was like this. So I came out here to forget.” She looked at Gina for the first time. “But I’ll live. How about you? Did Park stop by your room to say goodnight?”

  “Yeah,” Gina said. “And then he left.”

  “Really?” Tess blinked in surprise. “That seems unlike him. Maybe he respects you too much to make a move.”

  “Are you making fun?” Gina demanded. “You know why he didn’t try anything. It was that thing I did with the gravy. I embarrassed him.” She let her head drop lower. “I didn’t know you weren’t supposed to do that.”

  “No.” Tess shook her head. “It wasn’t that. He was surprised, but he didn’t care.” Gina groaned, and Tess shook her head again. “Stop it. It was no big deal. He didn’t care. Nobody cared except that obnoxious Sigler woman.” She winced as she thought about Tricia Sigler and her now even-more-distant chances for a job at Decker. Then with an effort she dragged her mind back to comforting Gina. “And I’m serious about the respect part. You were right about the way he treats you. I watched him all last night—ready to kill him if he snubbed you—but you were right. He does treat you like a queen. I’ve never seen him act like that with any other woman. So I think you’re all right.” Tess stopped to consider what she’d said. “If being involved with Park could ever be termed all right.”

  “Aw, Tess,” Gina began.

  Tess held up her hand. “Okay, okay. Enough of this obsessing about men. We knew they were rats to begin with. We’re liberated women. We don’t need them, anyway. Let’s forget them and go get some breakfast.” Tess climbed off the fence and started to stride away, and Gina dropped off and followed her, walking double time to keep up.

  “You really think Park didn’t care?” Gina asked, the pleading clear in her voice. “You really think he’s different with me?”

  “Yes,” Tess said reluctantly. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s always been impeccably polite to every woman he’s ever been with, but they’ve always been more—”

  “Upper class,” Gina said.

  “—like accessories,” Tess finished. “I swear, he picked some of them to go with his ties. But he talks to you. He listens to you. If you seem uncertain, he takes your hand. So maybe the reason he’s not making a pass really is that he has too much respect for you.”

  Gina kicked the ground. “I don’t want that much respect.”

  Tess sighed with exasperation. “Well, then, do something about it.”

  “What’d you do to get Nick to come across?”

  “I breathed,” Tess said glumly. “Nick’s a self-starter. And when he’s done, evidently he’s done. I should have known.”

  Gina shrugged. “So don’t see him again after this weekend.”

  “Oh, I’m not going to, but…” Tess stopped walking, concentrating on trying to put her unhappiness into words. “I’ll miss him. The good Nick. I’ll miss him a lot.”

  “The good Nick?”

  Tess bit her lip. “Nick…changes,” she said finally. “Back and forth. Deep inside, I think there’s a real Nick, but there’s mostly this plastic Nick who’s climbing to the top of his profession and doesn’t care about anything else. And I hate the way he acts when he’s like that.”

  “Like forgetting you exist?”

  “Like that, yes, but also—” Tess started to walk again and Gina tagged along beside her “—the way he is with Welch. Respectful all the time so he’ll get the contract. Or the way he goes to the opera because it gets his picture on the society page. And the thing is, for a while I thought it was just a stage he was passing through. That once he’d made it, he’d go back to being himself.” She looked at Gina. “Now, I’m not sure he knows which one is real—the nice guy or the climber. And I love the one and I hate the other and I’m afraid, I’m really afraid that I’ll end up with the other
one. Jekyll.”

  “Instead of Heckle?” Gina shook her head. “I could never tell them apart.”

  “No, instead of Hyde.”

  “I thought Hyde was the monster.”

  “Take a close look at Jekyll sometime,” Tess said. “Especially if there’s money and a promotion involved.”

  “Maybe you should give him another chance,” Gina said. “I mean, he’s really interested in you—” she stopped as Tess gave her a look of contempt “—well, at least part of the time, and last night must have been pretty spectacular or you wouldn’t care what he was, and you like his car, too.” Gina shrugged. “I’d go for it.”

  Tess looked at her in disbelief. “Life is more than great sex and a nice car.”

  “Well, yeah. But not a lot more.”

  Tess glared at Gina in startled indignation, only to find her grinning at her. It was the first smile she’d seen on Gina since they’d come to Kentucky, so she smiled back, relieved that Gina was showing signs of recovering.

  “You’re a nice woman, DaCosta” Tess said, putting her arm around Gina. “But we have to work on your depth. You have none.”

  “I’m practicing to be a yuppie.” Gina’s grin faded. “Not that I’ll ever be one.”

  Tess frowned. “Listen, I meant it when I told you that the thing at dinner did not matter, but I’ve also got to tell you that lusting after Park Patterson is a bad idea.”

  “I know,” Gina said. “Don’t worry about me. You got enough trouble of your own to handle.”

  “This is true,” Tess said, and they both turned back to the house, sunk in gloom.

  LUNCH WAS NOT GOOD.

  The food, of course, was impeccable, since Henderson had been in charge of that part. But not even Henderson could have saved the conversation between Nick and Tess.

  “Just tell me what I did wrong,” Nick said under his breath, trying to look unconcerned so no one would catch on they were fighting.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Tess said.

  “If you don’t talk about it, I’ll probably do it again. Although I’m damned if I see what’s so bad about making love to you all night.”

  “It wasn’t the night. It was the morning,” Tess said.

  “We didn’t make love this morning.”

  “Right,” Tess said. “Pass the salt.”

  “If you want to make love, just say so. I’m not a mind reader.”

  “I didn’t want to make love. Well, actually I did, but that’s not it.”

  “Well, then what?”

  “Troubles, Jamieson?” Welch called from the other end of the table.

  “Not at all,” Nick called back, smiling. “Just enjoying another great meal, sir.”

  “You are disgusting,” Tess said to Nick.

  “What did I do?” Nick asked, but she turned away from him to talk to the man next to her.

  TESS MANAGED to keep the chill on through lunch and up to the reading, but then her curiosity got the better of her. In the living room, Henderson had set up rows of carved walnut chairs, their seats covered in navy-and-brown tapestry, so that the place looked like a lecture hall done by Architectural Digest. The chairs were filling up with people who had clout and prestige and really good tailors, leaving Tess to puzzle over why Welch had chosen these guests. They were so upscale, so obviously unlike him, yet he was gruffly pleased to see them there. The only thing she could come up with was that he was courting them so that they’d push his book, an unlikely motive for a literary icon.

  “Does Welch need these people?” Tess asked Nick, forgetting that she was mad at him.

  “Honey, everybody needs these people,” Nick said. “There are two senators and a governor here.”

  Tess frowned. “I know that. What does that have to do with literature?”

  “Nothing.” Nick frowned in thought, and Tess knew he was moving into analytical gear. “I think it’s about public relations. I think Welch wants to move beyond writing. I’ve been watching him all weekend, and I think he’s going after a political career. He was talking to Tricia Sigler about Decker at lunch today, and that’s a high-profile place, a lot of powerful parents send their kids there, and he’s been very tight with Bob O’Donnell all weekend—”

  “Bob O’Donnell?”

  “Republican party honcho here in Kentucky,” Nick said. “I think Welch sees himself as a right-wing standard-bearer. And you know, it’s not a dumb idea. It’s not a bad time for a neoconservative to make a move. There’s some backlash building up against the Democratic administration. And he’s still fairly young. Plenty of time to start a political career. A Senate seat would be a good move for him.” Nick relaxed back into his chair. “Which also takes care of the other mystery, now that I come to think of it. Park told me that Welch doesn’t like his father, Kent Patterson, and never has, so why is he wining and dining us?”

  “Why?” Tess asked, totally confused.

  “Because Kent has clout in the social circles that Welch needs if he wants to get elected,” Nick said promptly. “Kent knows people with money who would like Welch’s politics. Kent may be a lousy lawyer, but he knows how to network. So Welch invited Park and me down here to see if we have the brains to do some minimal law work for him. Then he can give us a contract to make the connection with Kent.” Nick shook his head in admiration. “You know, I’m starting to like Welch a lot better.”

  “I’m starting to like him a lot less,” Tess said. “All this sucking up. What happened to the good old days when rich white men just bought their way into office?”

  “Inflation,” Nick said. “Nobody’s that rich anymore.” He smiled at Tess. “You know, I owe you for this weekend. Welch really likes you, and that’s made points for me.” He patted Tess on the shoulder, and she made a disgusted face at him. “No, I really mean it. I watched the two of you at lunch. He likes the hard time you give him as much as you like giving it to him. I’d be jealous except I know you’re crazy about me.”

  “That was last night, this is today,” Tess said, but he grinned at her confidently. She looked away just in time to see Welch come into the room for the reading.

  He was imposing as he took his stand behind the massive walnut podium that Henderson had placed at one end of the room, and when he began to speak in general on the ravages that liberalism and feminism had wrought on the country, it was obvious that he was speaking to a mostly receptive audience. It was also obvious that Nick, as usual, was right on the money. Welch was prepping for a move into politics.

  “I don’t like this,” Gina whispered to her.

  “I know,” Tess whispered back. “I know.”

  “If you listen to those people,” Welch was saying, “you’d think life was just a fairy tale where everybody is good and honest and things turn out happily ever after. But you know, I always had my doubts about those happily-ever-afters. Anne Sexton isn’t the only one who wondered about what happened when the chickens came home to roost.” He chuckled and then caught Tess’s eye. She stuck out her tongue at him, and he chuckled again, but this time there seemed to be a nervous edge to his laugh.

  “So my book is about what happens after the happily-ever-after,” Welch said. “Which is why it’s called After the Ever After. The prologue is a fairy tale about a young woman who comes of age in the sixties. Her name is Cinderellen—” the audience tittered politely “—and she buys into happily-ever-after in a big way. This is the end of the tale.”

  Then Welch began to read a scene in which his heroine stood up at the ball and made a speech defending the importance of the environment over big business, a speech that instantly won the heart of the prince, and Tess’s heart stopped. It wasn’t just the snide tone Welch used—a tone that made people in the audience first smile in sardonic amusement and then laugh in outright derision—it was the words, words that were so familiar to her that she recited them silently in unison with Welch as he read, finishing with: “And from then on Cinderellen and the prince looked f
or the good in every day and tried to make sure they had a part in creating some of it.”

  That got a big laugh, and Tess felt the room swoop around her as her whole body went hot with anger. He was telling the CinderTess story, Lanny’s story, and he was making people laugh at it. It was her story, and he was degrading it, degrading her and everything she believed in. She was so rigid with suppressed rage that Nick turned to see what was wrong.

  “Tess?” he whispered.

  She shook her head, trying to marshal her thoughts.

  Welch then segued into Cinderellen’s story thirty years later. She was swamped with debts, dragged down by the poor people she was trying to help, unable to keep her small family business going because of environmental restrictions and saddled with a prince who had turned out to be a vapid do-gooding fool. As the audience nodded, enjoying the expected disasters that had befallen the naive heroine, Tess reminded herself to take deep breaths, to concentrate, to do anything to control the rising anger that swamped her because of what Welch was doing to her story.

  To Lanny’s story.

  “I’m going to kill him,” she whispered under her breath, which prompted Nick to shush her.

  Welch finished the scene with Cinderellen’s emancipation speech: she was mad as hell and not going to take it anymore. Then Welch stopped reading to sketch in Cinderellen’s transformation. She streamlined her company by laying off workers and saved a bundle by not helping the poor, but that wasn’t enough. She went to the best plastic surgeon in the land and had him transform her back into the beauty she’d been at the ball. Then she set out to tell her story again. Only this time, she was going to do it right, using all her feminine wiles. The last scene he read was a comic seduction scene in which Cinderellen used her newly recovered beauty to seduce the head of the Environmental Protection Agency into exempting her company from environmental controls, manipulating him with a speech on the importance of business over the environment as she slithered first over his desk and then his body. As a piece of satire it was dead-on, a perfect parody of Cinderellen’s original speech. People were falling off their chairs laughing.