Charlie laughed—a smarmy hoot that chilled Betsy’s blood. “That’s definitely the best kind. Who’s the willing lady? Anyone I know?”
“Betsy.”
Pulling her head back, she rested it against the wall as her blood lost the chill and began to boil.
“Betsy Kincaid?” Charlie sounded surprised, as if the lady in question were the Wicked Witch of the West.
“The same.” Tyler sounded smug and completely despicable.
Gritting her teeth, she peeked out again at the two of them—frat boys shooting off their mouths about an easy chick, who just happened to be her.
“Ah, that’s right.” Charlie flashed a happily lascivious grin. “I saw her when she came in.” He gave a low whistle and lifted his glass in a salute. “Not bad. A pretty hot piece of ass is our Betsy. Who knew? And you’re the lucky guy who’s going to enjoy that ass. Congratulations.”
“Hey, I’m just doing what any gentleman would do. I mean, my former girlfriend is all but begging me to fuck her, and when your former girlfriend does that, what gentleman would refuse?”
“You planning on going back to her?”
Betsy held her breath, waiting for the answer. Maybe what he said would at least keep her from killing him.
“And leave Lisa? Are you serious? Have you seen Lisa’s legs? They go on forever. Hell, she’s got the kind of legs that wrap right around you. No man wants to give that up. But with any luck, maybe I can find a way to have them both.”
“Or maybe not,” she murmured to herself, shaking off her disgust, galvanizing her anger, and moving around the corner of the alcove and into view.
Three months she’d dated Tyler Matheson and never realized what a two-timing creep he could be. So what did that say about her? It said she was a desperate woman with zero taste in men. Except for one special man.
Charlie saw her first when she rounded the corner, and his grin dimmed, alerting Tyler that something was wrong.
Then Tyler turned around and saw her. For an instant, his eyes widened as his own grin faltered and dissolved, before trying unsuccessfully to reestablish itself. “Hi, Betsy.” His voice held all the elation of someone swallowing his tongue. “I was just saying goodbye to Charlie.”
That’s not all you’re about to say goodbye to. Betsy walked toward him, smiled sweetly, and raised her punch glass.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Sorry, sir. We here at Across-the-Nation Movers and Storage just feel fortunate that the driver could jump out before the truck hit bottom.”
Matt closed his eyes as he listened to the moving-company representative’s voice explaining the latest disaster in Matt’s life. “Okay, I understand.” Heaving a weary sigh of resignation, he opened his eyes again so he could look around at his apartment. His new apartment. His new empty apartment. Not a single piece of furniture anywhere in it. And how could there be any furniture?
According to the guy at the other end of the phone line, all Matt’s furniture had been sucked into a vast sinkhole somewhere east of Flaming Weathervane, Wisconsin. “Thanks for alerting me. I’ll file an insurance claim in the morning,” he told moving-company man, who was still oozing apology long after it was necessary.
Cutting the connection in the middle of the man’s abject “We here at Across-the-Nation can’t adequately express our regrets at the loss of your—” Matt stowed the phone in his pocket and shook his head helplessly.
First, Betsy was pissed off at him and determined to hook up again with that idiot Tyler, and now his furniture had been forever consigned to muddy oblivion.
He stared at the two suitcases and the large shopping bag he’d brought with him. Some clothes and Evie Donnelly’s drawings. That was all they contained, the only things he still owned. With a shrug, he dipped into the shopping bag, pulled out Evie’s drawings, and propped them side-by-side on the windowsill, smiling at the memory of how proud the child had looked presenting them to him.
Then he stopped smiling because thoughts of Evie inevitably led to thoughts of Betsy. But thinking about Betsy didn’t lead to smiling, only to regret, frustration…and a sudden urge to follow Rob’s advice and invade her company party.
Invade her company party!
He smiled again at the idea of having it out with the lady. Yeah, that was the ticket. Confront her in her sizzling dress, the one he’d chosen for her, tell her just what a fool she was, then…
He frowned. Then what?
Okay, he knew then what. Then do what any red-blooded man, who was madly in love with a woman, would do. Kiss her senseless, throw her over his shoulder if he had to, and carry her back to his cave, or in this case, to his empty apartment, which was just about as cave-like as a place could get.
Squaring his shoulders, he headed for the door while he refined his approach to eliminate the caveman stuff. Of course, he wouldn’t actually strong-arm the lady, but he would act like a rational, twenty-first-century man and do his damnedest to convince her that Tyler wasn’t the one. He was.
Then the truth hit him again, slamming into his gut with the force of a sledgehammer. She didn’t want him. As dumb as it was, she wanted Tyler.
He would have laughed at the stupidity of it if he didn’t feel like ramming his fist through the nearest wall.
He’d stupidly fallen for a woman with the emotional maturity of a five-year-old. The fact that he had the emotional maturity of a three-year-old to have done it was irrelevant. At least his heart had been in the right place.
“The hell with it,” he shouted into the empty room. “If she wants that colorless idiot, let her have him. Basic beige condoms. Ha! What a loser.”
Then he went to sit on a windowsill, since it was the closest thing he had to a chair.
****
Betsy strode across the ballroom, muttering appropriately toxic curses under her breath. Then she thought about how Tyler had looked with his face completely drenched and his nice white shirt stained a vivid red, and her anger dissolved.
Serves you right, buddy. A delicious feeling of righteous retribution replaced her fury. She smacked her empty glass onto a table and retrieved her coat, slipping it on as she left the building.
“Can you get me a taxi?” she asked the uniformed doorman who came over to see if he could help her.
The man nodded politely and went off to signal a cab as Betsy waited beneath the hotel’s elaborate awning and lifted her face to the cool evening breezes that gently caressed her.
Matt had caressed her, too. But it was too late for that now. Her anger and accusations had driven a barrier between them, possibly an unbreachable one that would always put them too far away from each other emotionally for a caress. But not too far away physically for an apology.
Betsy squared her shoulders and pulled the phone from her bag, unwilling to give up without even trying.
She owed him at least that, even if he threw her contrite words right back in her face. Quickly tapping Rob’s speed-dial key, she waited.
A few seconds later, her friend’s greeting echoed in her ear, and Betsy took a nervous breath and launched into her plea. “Rob, it’s Betsy. I need to get in touch with Matt. Where is he?”
Rob’s split-second of hesitation was palpable.
She frowned and repeated the request more forcefully. “Rob, I need to find him. Where is he?”
“You planning to kill him?” Rob finally asked. “Because if you are, as far as I’m concerned there’s no way you’re getting his present location from me.”
Betsy groaned. “Robert J. McConnell, in case it hasn’t occurred to you, I am not in the habit of murdering people. I just want to apologize to him.”
“You’re sure? Because I tried to tell you where he was a couple of days ago, and you basically told me to take the information and shove it where the sun—”
“Don’t exaggerate. I never told you to shove it anyplace. I just declined to take it.” She paused for a moment to force back the urge to scream out her frustrati
on. Instead she softened her tone, letting the desperation show in her voice. “Please, I changed my mind. I do want his address. It’s important.”
“So you’re not planning on taking any kind of revenge on him for being straight?”
She silently counted to ten and struggled to remain patient, because this verbal runaround was getting old fast. “Rob, for God’s sake, no, I am not going to hurt him. All right? Now tell me where he is.”
He sighed into the phone, then finally said, “Okay. Here’s his address.”
Betsy quickly tapped the information into her Contacts. “Got it, Rob. Thanks, I’ll—”
“Remember, no chewing him out, and definitely no physical violence. I mean, the poor guy. He’s got it pretty bad. Turns out he’s totally bat-you-know-what crazy for you.”
Betsy froze as she tried to absorb what Rob had said. “He’s what?” Surely she must have misheard.
“My usually level-headed lawyer cousin has gone completely unhinged over you. He was going to tell you about his new apartment the day things sort of… umm…blew up.”
Blew up.
She winced. It was a disturbingly accurate way to describe what had happened. And all because of her foolishness and insecurity. “Oh, my God,” she moaned. “I’m so sorry. It was all my fault for blaming him for my own stupid mistake. But I’ll make it up to him. I was going to phone first, but I just changed my mind. So even if he slams the door in my face, I’m going over there to beg him for forgiveness, if I have to. Don’t tell him I’m on my way, okay?”
“You got it.”
Her taxi pulled up to the curb, and the doorman opened the passenger door for her. “I’m hanging up, Rob. I’ve got to go.”
Rob’s urgent voice stopped her before she could disconnect. “Hey, wait. Aren’t you supposed to be at that party tonight?”
“I just left it.”
“Have a good time?”
“At first it was only fair. But about five minutes ago, when I emptied my punch glass over Tyler’s head, I was having a glorious time.”
Rob’s unbridled laughter rang in her ear, and Betsy moved the phone away to keep from being deafened.
“Ooh, nice! Wish you’d taken a picture. I’d love to have a copy to use as a dartboard.”
“Actually, I did. To remind myself that sometimes I can be an absolute idiot. I’ll send you a copy. Remember, don’t tell Matt I’m coming.”
“Never. My lips are sealed. Have a good time, babe. And I mean a really GOOD time!”
“Gonna do my best,” she promised as she rushed to the waiting cab.
“Love you, Bets.”
“Love you too, Robby. Talk to you soon. Bye.”
She ended the call, sent Rob the magnificent image of Tyler looking stunned and half drowned, and slid into the passenger seat of the cab.
“1812 Bartley Road,” she told the driver as she sat back and prepared herself to swallow her pride and beg for forgiveness.
****
Matt propped his butt at the edge of one of the windowsills where he’d put Evie’s artwork. Now that he’d discarded his big-time, alpha-male dreams of sweeping Betsy off her feet and out of her party, the only alternative left was to face reality.
He looked around at the empty space and winced. This was his immediate reality—a bare apartment with no place to sleep, eat, sit, or do any of the other mundane things most normal people did. Which meant he needed a place where he could do those things. In short, he needed Rob.
Yanking the phone from his pocket, he called his cousin. “Hey, Rob. Matt here,” he said when Rob’s bubbly, high-octane voice answered. “Can I bunk with you for a few more days?”
“Huh?”
Matt moved the phone away from his ear and stared at it. That was the strangest comment he’d ever heard Rob make to a request for shelter. Huh? And Rob’s voice suddenly sounded totally befuddled too.
“I need a place to crash for another few days.” He brought the phone back to his ear. “The moving truck my furniture was on slid into a sinkhole. Everything’s gone.”
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”
Matt exhaled a sigh of relief. At least Rob finally sounded normal again. “Yeah, me too. So can I come back ’til I buy some things?”
“Are you all alone there?”
“Of course. I just told you, all my furniture is toast, so I’m not exactly set up for visitors yet. So can I move back in ’til I get a few basic things—like a bed, table, and some chairs?”
“Right now, you mean? This minute?”
Matt frowned. Okay, this conversation just kept getting weirder and weirder. “Is there a problem?”
Rob let out a nervous, high-pitched laugh. “A problem? No, of course not. No problem. But could you give me a couple of hours before coming over? I mean, why don’t you stay there for a while…you know, like an hour or so…and then come by?”
Matt rolled his eyes. All right, suddenly the situation was coming clear. Rob was probably with Arlen, and they were enjoying a rip-roaring time together.
He shook his head in wonder. But, good God, they needed the whole place to do whatever they were doing? Must be quite a party. Well, more power to them…and no problem for him, either. He could wait. “Got it,” he told Rob. “I’ll give you a couple more hours. Whatever you’re doing there, enjoy.”
He cut the call and checked the time. It was well past dinner, which he hadn’t bothered eating, and by now both breakfast and lunch were distant memories.
There was a small restaurant a few blocks away, so he’d get something there, then come back to take his bags to Rob’s place. At least that should give Rob and Arlen enough time to deplete all of their excess romantic energy before he arrived.
Shoving the cell into his pocket, he headed for the door, then stopped in his tracks when the bell rang. He stared at the door as a second ring blared through the room, quickly followed by a third and fourth.
With a sigh of resignation, he went to answer it. What now? With his recent run of bad luck, it was probably the managing agent coming by to tell him the building had just been condemned.
He opened the door, and his heart picked up speed.
“Hi.” Betsy stood in the corridor wrapped in the fancy black cashmere coat she’d bought for her damn office party. “I just got your address from Rob.”
Matt could only stare at her in open-mouthed shock as his head bobbed up and down in an automatic nod. But at least some of his brain cells still worked well enough to tell him this was the reason Rob wanted him to stay here for a while. He knew Betsy was on the way. Which meant that someday he’d kill Rob. But not until his rampaging blood pressure returned to normal.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I thought I’d stop by to see your new digs.” She didn’t wait for an invitation to come in.
Not that he wouldn’t have extended one. He just didn’t get the chance.
She was too far ahead of him as she confidently crossed his threshold and pushed the door shut behind her.
As she continued to move toward him, Matt stepped slowly away, unable to take his eyes from her. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. Only one thing was starting to come clear in his addled mind. His sweet, sexy Betsy was coming into her own.
She pulled her coat open, and his gaze automatically made a downward tour of the body he knew so well. Correction. Sweet, sexy Betsy wasn’t coming into her own. She’d already gotten there. Big time. Operation Sizzle had been a rousing success, and when he wasn’t looking, his student had aced the final exam and graduated with honors.
She was wearing the outfit he’d chosen for her party—the slinky, silky, red number that didn’t leave a whole lot to a horny male’s overactive imagination—and obviously wearing it without benefit of a bra. Not that she needed one. Her breasts were high, round, firm, and absolutely perfect without any extraneous support. The sight of them straining against the dress’s flimsy material hit him right in the crotch. If she came any closer, h
e might hyperventilate.
She came closer, dropped her purse on the floor, then shrugged off her coat, letting it slide down the length of her body. It puddled on the floor at her feet, and she stepped carelessly over it, her stiletto heels silent as they sank into the sumptuous material. “I haven’t seen you for a while. How’s everything going? Still happy with your job?”
He nodded. “I’m working on a personal injury-product liability case. My client was lying on a stability ball to exercise, and he was lifting two…uh…two—” He broke off and cleared his throat because his voice was a mess.
God, he was so turned on by the mere sight of her that he sounded like a squeaky fourteen-year-old kid who was about to swallow his tongue.
Her mouth slowly curved into a seductive smile. “Sounds interesting.”
Matt cleared his throat again, desperately trying to deepen his voice back into adult-male territory. “Uh…he…my client was lifting two ninety-pound dumbbells over his head, and it exploded. I mean the stability ball exploded, not my client’s head. Heads usually don’t ex—”
He was starting to babble, so he quickly cut off the rest of the stupid comment he was about to make and stared, mesmerized, at her upturned face as she ran her tongue over her lips with a sensual movement that turned his blood molten.
“Mmm.” Her voice was a throaty purr. “Fascinating.”
Matt took a nervous breath while the pulse at his temple turned into a raging bongo drum. The woman he loved stood less than a foot away, either offering herself to him or else determined to give him the biggest unsatisfied hard-on in the history of the male crotch. And for the life of him, he still couldn’t figure out which one it was.
“Party over?” He tried to read the strange expression on her face as she moved closer and he backed cautiously away.
She gave her head a slow shake that made her hair swing back and forth, caressing her bare shoulders the way he longed to do. “Not quite. I just decided to leave early.”
He nodded. All right, this was encouraging news. Maybe. “Good party?”
“Wonderful.” Her smile was luminous and more than a little mischievous, the smile of a totally satisfied woman. It made his gut clench with foreboding.
Operation Sizzle Page 23
