Who cared about her self-worth when they married her to an old man? Who gave her the freedom to explore her body and experience sex as something to be shared and not taken? Yes, I've given her these intriguing suitors, but I haven't given her the license to enjoy them or the understanding of anything other than needing to be saved.
Why am I stifling her ability to be someone? In the deepest recesses of my mind, I realize it's because I felt the need to make her young and pure and trusting—the fantasy of what men supposedly want, and I have never been. What if I made her someone more like me? If she's going to allow these men to save her, maybe it's because she's allowing them to prove their strength. Not because she's not able to do it herself, more because she's just damn tired of doing it all herself.
So what does Lady Sydney bring to the party? If she were an older widow rather than a young ingénue, she'd have experience and humor. She would understand how to manipulate the situation to get what she wanted out of the relationship. Her suitors would become her mirror, where she finally can't deny her right to be someone powerful and desirable.
So what would make me feel powerful and desirable? Hmmm… Sweet or savory? The image of Mark and Heath staring at each other over my dessert, asking me to choose, creates a tingle in my fingertips. What is Lady Sydney hungry for today? Maybe it's time to find out.
* * *
Snapping the lid of my laptop shut, I drop it back on the desk to charge before I lose my work to a low battery. A quick glance at the clock in the kitchen stops me in my tracks as I realize how much time has passed. I can't remember the last time I spent hours writing. It felt good, although the gurgling of my stomach makes me realize that I haven't eaten anything today.
As if magically attuned to my emptiness, Emma's ringtone blares from the other room.
"Hey, what are you up to? I'm starved!"
"Well hello to you, too." Emma laughs. "I was calling to see if it was story time yet? I'm dying to hear all the details."
"Does story time come with food?"
"Only if it comes with drinks, too." My stomach rebels at her words.
"How about if I eat and you drink? I'm not certain my liver is speaking to me yet."
"Ooooooo…now I really need to hear this. The Continental?"
Perfect, it's far away from Lulu's and temptation.
"Give me thirty, I need to change my clothes."
"I'll grab a table. See ya soon!"
* * *
What a madhouse. Clearly, most people—other than retail slaves like me—don't have to work tomorrow. Squeezing through the bodies, I finally spot Emma waving from a hightop in the corner. Her short, choppy hair is tinged in blue, which does amazing things for her eyes. Judging by the guy chatting with her, I'm not the only one to notice.
"Hey!" She grabs the empty chair to swing my way as I drape my purse strap across the back and hop on the stool.
"It's been great, but it's girls’ night and you're not one, so scoot." She smiles charmingly at the guy regaling her with some odd story about fish DNA, cutting him off in mid-sentence.
"Fish DNA?"
"I think it was his lame attempt at being sexually provocative, bless his nerdy little heart. Something about salmon swimming upstream to find their mates and spawn. Honestly, I tuned him out at least ten minutes ago after the drinks came, when he started talking about my egg sac." Her mouth purses in distaste. "Like he'd ever get near it. You look a little…worn out." Her critical eyes take in my tired, pale face, and the leggings I've switched out for the sweatpants I was lounging in all day. At least I took the time to brush my hair and put on some light makeup.
"I'm a little hungover," I admit. "It was kind of a late night."
"Do tell!" The sparkle in her eyes is infectious, and I realize that I'm looking forward to telling her the story.
"So, Nate told you what happened at the walkthrough. I went home to lick my wounds and plot a hundred different ways to kill Kenzie. Do you think it's possible to feed her to a pack of wild dogs?"
"No, they recognize a bitch as their equal," Emma deadpans as I laugh.
"Anyway, while I was plotting her death, Heath called to ask how everything went. When I told him it sucked, he convinced me to go out to dinner so he could cheer me up, and we went back to Lulu's." I pause for a sip of my water as the waiter stops to take our order.
"Wow, I can't believe you got to eat there twice now! I swear this Heath is a keeper. He knows how to impress a girl. It must have been crowded."
"It was, but it didn't matter," I say casually. "Because we ended back at the chef's counter again."
"Josie! How is this man on a dating site? He's too good to be true. Can I borrow him? Does he have a brother?"
"You know, I never got around to asking him that. All I know his Mom is British, an ex-pat, and that's how he ended up with the name Heathcliff. Remember? I told you she was a Wuthering Heights fan."
The thunk of Emma's head hitting the table muffles her words. "Why do parents hate their children so much? Isn't it enough to humiliate us in public with their antics? Why do they deliberately try to ensure that their child will be the target of jokes their entire life?"
It's a valid question. My parents, while naming me after my great aunt Josephine, had the grace to pre-shorten it to Josie and save me countless years of teasing and therapy.
Emma's ex-hippie parents, however, named her Gertrude after our great grandmother and as some bizarre tribute to Gertrude Stein. I'm forever grateful that she was the one to take that bullet.
It wasn't until about third grade that she realized it wasn't cool to be called Gertie and flatly refused to answer to anything but her middle name anymore. Her parents tried to compromise with Trudy for a while, but Em has always had a mind of her own.
Shaking her head, she finally raises it to stare at me. "He's still cute, right?"
"I told you before, total DILF. If anything, he looks better each time I see him. I'm totally digging his tall, Jean Luc Picard vibe, and he's really sweet." I can't help the grin that breaks through. "And a mighty fine kisser as well."
"Eek, spill!"
"Hey, you know I don't kiss and tell, but from what I've seen so far, the ex-wife was a fool." I shrug. "My gain."
"So how was dinner? Is that how you spoke to Marc Isaacss? Was he cooking last night?"
"Oh, he was cooking all right. We’d barely sat down, when Heath was called away for an emergency. Some poor dog got run down. He wouldn't let me leave with him and asked Mark to take care of me. It turns out that Mark is a terrible flirt."
"Did you flirt back?" Emma's curiosity is almost at fever pitch.
"Emma! I was there on a date with Heath. It's not nice to flirt with someone else when your date's back is turned."
"Unless it's someone sexy like Marc Isaacss. I swear that man should be on TV. I heard he's up for a James Beard."
"Really?" I'm intrigued. "That's amazing. I can't believe he never mentioned it. At any rate, he made me dinner—you really do have to try his food, Em. It's unbelievably delicious. Anyway, he flirted with me, and then I decided to ask him about doing the culinary class."
"He just said yes? No hesitation?" The crab lo mein suddenly dropped between us halts all conversation as we both inhale deeply and grab our chopsticks to dig in.
"This smells heavenly, and somehow, I know I'm going to be disappointed after last night. Em, the gnocchi." I sigh. "Like pillows."
"Damn you, don't make me hate you any more than I already do right now. So, what about—”
The sound of my cell phone interrupts us as I glance at the screen and pause.
"It's Heath," I mouth before thumbing the on button. "Hey, stranger, how was your day?"
"Oddly exhausting. For some reason, I don't feel like I got much sleep last night. How was the writing?"
"Exhausting." I laugh. "But Emma coaxed me out for dinner and drinks, so apparently, not exhausting enough.”
"Really? Where are you corrupti
ng hearts tonight?"
"Very funny. I leave that kind of thing to Emma. The Continental. Where are you?"
His warm laugh causes flutters in my stomach, then he says, "Believe it or not, right down the street. I was supposed to pick up Tracey but she decided to stay at Lori's. How crazy is that?"
I hesitate slightly, wide eyes silently asking permission of Emma, before taking the plunge.
"Do you want to join us? We just got our food."
"I already ate." The brief pause that follows seems endless. "But I wouldn't mind stopping by for a drink, if you're sure I'm not crashing girls’ night. I don't want to intrude."
Emma's bobbing head confirms what I already know. "We're in the far corner at a hightop by the windows. Come find us." I hesitate. "Oh, and remember what I've said about Emma—bring your battle gear."
"Inquisition time?"
I laugh silently. Why yes, Heath, yes it is. Isn't that what our wingmen are for? To ask the hard questions that we can't ask directly? It's the ultimate game of 'good cop, bad cop.'
"See you soon." I thumb off the connection and give Emma my most severe stare. "Do not give him a hard time. Just focus on getting information. He's the nicest guy I've met in ages. I might want to keep him around for a while."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
Raising her glass in a toast, I know I'm going to regret this.
* * *
As crowded as the restaurant is, it's still pretty easy to glimpse the bald head which weaves in and out of the crowd toward us. I stop in mid-sentence, Emma's head swiveling to follow my own as she watches him stride toward our table.
A crisp white shirt is tucked into sharp khaki pants, not tight enough to show off his religion, but tailored to be slim. The three top buttons of his shirt are open, giving him a relaxed air, the tooled leather belt a bit of polish.
"Well, damn. He's a cutie all right." She grins, making her voice just loud enough for him—and everyone in a ten state radius—to hear. Thank you, Emma.
"Hi, gorgeous." He leans down to drop a quick kiss on my lips, turning quickly to grab Emma's hand. "You must be the inquisitor. I'm Cliff."
"Inquiring minds want to know all right." She smiles as he pulls up a chair and drapes his arm casually around my shoulder.
"You look much better than you did this morning. Did you finally go back to bed?" he murmurs, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind my ear before resting his hand lightly to cup my neck. The warmth radiating from his palm sends heat directly down my spine to settle somewhere deep between my thighs. Emma's look of surprise is quickly replaced by delight as she draws her own conclusions.
"Actually, I spent all day writing." I'm surprised by the pride in my statement. It feels good to say that and mean it sincerely.
"Really? That sounds productive, like you got some inspiration flowing. Do we need to practice for a sex scene yet?"
The sound of choking breaks the intimacy as Emma snorts her wine, before falling backward in her chair with laughter.
"Please, Heath, please teach her characters something, anything, about sex. I beg you."
"This may come as a shock, Emma, but I'm beginning to believe you may not be entirely wrong."
"Halle-fucking-lluah! Can I get an amen in here." Emma raises both hands for a high five, pouting when I refuse to slap them.
"Yeah, yeah. She's still not getting a harem, so don't get too excited."
"Girl, she's getting sex, she won't want to stop, you'll see. Right, Heath?" she asks as he looks slightly confused.
"Who has a harem?"
"No one in this world," I say dryly.
"Wrong!" Emma turns to Heath. "Our cousin Katie, for one. She lives in Atlanta with four gorgeous men."
"I still don't believe it. There's got to be a catch. Something else has to be going on. There's no way four men are comfortable sharing one woman," I insist as Heath tries to follow the thread of our conversation, confused but intrigued.
"There isn't. I talked to James just last month, and she said everything is working out great. Katie has no intention of moving back. She’s even opening her own business. Her mom is having a nervous breakdown."
"Her mom is upset she moved to Atlanta? Or because she has a harem? What constitutes a harem?" Heath is still trying to make sense of the senseless.
"Both. Her mom is having a nervous breakdown because Katie quit her job to move to Atlanta to live with four men. Apparently, she thinks it's not proper. I think it's genius. Believe me, I'm taking notes to build my own."
"It sounds pretty exhausting if you ask me," I chime in.
"Huh. That's pretty bold. I know guys who like sharing, but it's rare that you find a woman who is into it. Those are pretty big numbers, four to one. Especially if you're telling me she uprooted her life for it. That's a commitment. I wonder what that conversation was like." Emma's face lights at Heath's words, clearly delighted to finally have someone to debate the merits of harems. "Of course, from the evolutionary standpoint of nature, only three to five percent of mammals are naturally monogamous." Yep, Heath is more than a match for Emma. This could go all night if he continues to take the bait and start a debate.
"Heath…" I can practically see the virtual wheels turning in Emma's head. "Josie said you're a veterinarian?"
"I have a clinic out on the main line."
"I need to know about knotting. How often does it happen in the natural world? Does the penis really blow up like a balloon? What's the longest someone could stay locked together? Could humans really knot the way that animals can?"
Grabbing his drink, Heath throws back some of his gin and tonic before groaning.
"Is this the omegaverse thing again?"
"What do you know about omegaverse stories?" I ask, fascinated. It's not every day you find a guy knowledgeable about the genre.
"It seems like every time I turn around lately, someone comes in with a dog or some animal, and wants to ask me about knotting. The first couple times, I thought there was just a weird uptick in people who wanted to be breeders. It wasn't until one of the girls in the front office finally took pity on me and said that they might be reading omegaverse books." Laughing uncomfortably he continues, "Apparently, there was some chatter in the waiting room. I've developed a bit of a fan club. She filled me in on the general details."
Helpless laughter escapes me as I picture Heath's serious face attempting to explain knotting to some randy, Main Line trophy wife trying to get his attention.
"So then I read one to see what all the fuss was about, and while it was good fiction I guess, it wasn't, shall we say, anatomically possible. At least in the real world. The closest I've ever seen to a woman in heat is one having hot flashes. From my experience, that makes women more dangerous, not helpless. I'm not certain why women find the idea so sexy, but hey, if it revs your engine, I say go for it."
"You read an omegaverse story?" Emma's voice is laced by disbelief. "Really read one?" At Heath's nod, she beams at him. "Which one?"
"Uh, Bird Song? Bird's Nest? Something like that. It was pretty dark. Some guy obsessed with making his junk the size of a cannon. It definitely didn't have a happy ending. Don't women usually want that in a book?"
I shift uncomfortably in my seat at the look he directs my way.
"I like happy endings."
Grabbing my hand, he squeezes gently in agreement.
"Me too. Who needs another drink?"
Chapter 14
Harems are for Harlots
Finally sated with food and laughter, my weariness catches up with me.
"Let's wrap it up, friends. It's been lovely, but some of us have to earn a living tomorrow. At least until Emma's harem takes her away from the daily grind and she can support us all."
"How many men are in this harem? And do they know about one another?" Heath teases Emma.
If I wasn't already impressed by Heath, that comment alone would have done it. There's something about seeing a guy you like get along wit
h your best friend that makes everything easier. Sometimes it's a reinforcement of your good judgment. Sometimes it just signals that they're willing to make an effort to be nice to the people important to you. In this case, it's more an indication of how much they really enjoy talking to one another, which bodes well for being able to spend time together in the future.
"Why, Heath? Are you jealous?" Emma winks at him.
"No, I'm quite happy on this side of the table, thank you. I'm just curious about how you change partners during the dance. You're gonna need some fast feet." He laughs.
"There's fast and there's slow, it's all about the burn. Maybe I need to send you some instruction manuals to try to change your mind." She grins. "Since you were willing to read an omegaverse, I think it's time you read a reverse harem book."
"Oh boy. I should have never admitted to that one. You're not going to be happy until I do, right?"
"Nope." Emma looks like a cat that ate the canary. "I'm going to send you a list of my favorites, and you can choose. What do you like? Sci-fi? I can send you to Krysalis for a mixed alien harem. Or do you prefer fantasy? Maybe a dragon harem. Wolves? Vamps? Octopus shifters?"
"Hold up." Heath laughs. "Octopus shifters? Seriously?"
"You'd be amazed at what they can do with their tentacles!" Emma is practically gleeful now.
"Emma! Jesus. Say goodnight, Heath, and please stop stringing her along."
I love the mellow, rich sound of his laugh. It's thick and smoky and sweet, like butterscotch and bourbon that generates some burn before warming you from the inside out.
"Let me drive you home," he offers. "Emma, can we drop you somewhere?"
She seems impressed by his good manners, although I can't blame her. It's rare these days. Who says chivalry is dead?
"No, I'm just up the street. That's why we eat here so often."
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