Strange Bedpersons

by Jennifer Crusie

  “I bet you can’t wait,” Welch said. “The question is, have you read any of my other books? Or are you waiting for the movies?”

  “Oh, I’ve read them all,” Tess said. “I was assigned The Last Promise in college, and then read the other two on my own. Of course that was many years ago. How long has it been since Disenchanted Evenings? Fifteen years?”

  “Why don’t you sit down now, Tess?” Nick said to her grimly, pulling out her chair for her. “And remember where you are.”

  “Back off, Jamieson,” Welch snapped at him. “When I can’t take it, I’ll let you know.”

  “Actually I really am looking forward to hearing you read,” Tess said, sinking into her chair.

  “Because you’re so taken with my philosophy?” Welch asked, baiting her.

  “No, I’m not crazy about your philosophy,” Tess said. “I just like your writing.”

  She smiled at him cheerfully, and Welch blinked in disgruntled surprise. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” Tess said. “Your house is nice, too. Did you pick out the sampler in my bedroom?”

  Welch snorted with laughter. “You liked that, did you?”

  “Loved it,” Tess said.

  Welch laughed again and then turned to the woman on his left. “You should see this sampler, Tricia,” he said to her, and she cooed at him, practically consuming him with obvious celebrity-collector’s greed.

  “Who’s she?” Tess asked Nick when Welch turned away and Henderson began to serve.

  “This is a good sign,” Nick murmured at the same time. “He’s taking me pretty seriously to sit us here. But, God, Tess, watch your mouth. Don’t blow this for me.”

  “I think he likes it when I talk back,” Tess said, but then she was distracted by Henderson. “I want one of those,” she whispered to Nick.

  “What would you do with him if you had him?” Nick whispered back. “Staple signs to him for demonstrations?”

  Tess sighed. “I just like the way he controls the universe. You know, before dinner somebody was saying that he even watches what Welch eats because he has a heart condition. Welch doesn’t even have to do his own dieting. Henderson sees to it.” She shook her head in admiration. “It would be really nice to have a man around to take care of me like that.”

  “Hey.” Nick pointed to his chest. “Let’s not forget the obvious here. What about me?”

  She looked at him, warm and broad and smiling next to her, and thought, anytime, but all she said was, “You’re cute, but you’re no Henderson.”

  “Hey,” Nick said again, but then Henderson began to serve, and Tess minded her manners beautifully through most of the entree.

  Then Welch pushed his plate back and said, “So, Miss Newhart,” and Tess looked at him inquiringly.

  “You say you’re not crazy about my philosophy,” Welch went on. “Now your philosophy would be what, exactly?” He looked at her from under his brows, and Tess saw a definite challenge there.

  Be good, she reminded herself. This is important for Nick. “My philosophy is to behave myself so I get invited back for dinner again,” she told him.

  “This is excellent beef. Does Henderson do your cooking?”

  “No,” Welch said, “and you’re ducking the question.”

  “Well, I’m trying to behave,” Tess said. “It’s always a struggle for me. Now where exactly did you get Hen—”

  “The hell with behaving,” Welch said. “Show a little spirit. I know you’re under Jamieson’s thumb here, but you must have some ideas of your own.”

  Tess held back the first dozen retorts that occurred to her. “Can’t think of one. You know us women. Short on philosophy, long on shopping.”

  “Didn’t pick this one for her brains, did you, Jamieson?” Welch said, but he kept his eyes on Tess.

  “Tess is brilliant—” Nick began quietly, but Tess waved him silent.

  “What are you up to?” she asked Welch, and was rewarded with a grin. “I thought so. You’re just trying to get me in trouble. Well, forget it. Pass the butter.”

  “A woman without a philosophy,” Welch said, passing her the butter dish. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “All right, all right, I have a philosophy,” Tess said, trying to play the game for Nick’s sake. “Well, it’s not really mine. It’s one I borrowed. I had a friend a very long time ago who used to say that the only way to live life was to look for the best in every day and make sure I had a part in creating some of it. That still works for me.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Park groaned.

  “How charming,” the blond woman across from Tess said, making it obvious that she didn’t think so.

  “I think it is,” Gina said, a truly brave act since she’d been silent, staring at her plate, ever since they’d all sat down.

  Tess turned to her, smiling, but Welch was already on the attack. “Sounds like sixties’ garbage.”

  Tess swung back to him, and then she felt Nick’s hand grip her thigh. Don’t say anything, she thought, and then she nodded a little, and Nick moved his hand away.

  The blond woman tittered. “Oh, Norbert.”

  Encouraged, Welch went on. “You’re probably one of those fools who thinks literature should be life-affirming.”

  Tess frowned at him and opened her mouth, but Nick’s hand was back before she could speak. “Tess teaches literature,” he said. “I’m sure she has many interesting theories about it, but right now—”

  Welch interrupted him. “So now you’re the spokesman for her? What happened to her mouth?”

  “Spokesperson,” Tess said. “And my mouth is right here. Biding its time.”

  “Spokesperson?” Park said, confused.

  “Nongender-specific term.” Tess watched Welch grow red with annoyance and smiled cheerfully at him in response.

  He caught her grin and stopped scowling, nodding at her slightly to acknowledge the hit. “Politically correct garbage,” he said, baiting her again. “Stupid words.”

  “Definitely,” the blonde agreed, totally oblivious to the byplay going on in front of her.

  “Patriarchy is dead, folks.” Tess beamed at them both. “Get used to it.”

  The pressure from Nick’s hand on her thigh increased to the point of pain.

  “The hell it is,” Welch grumped. “Not in my house.”

  Tess laughed at Welch, at the same time attempting to move her leg out of Nick’s grip. “What are you trying to do? Recapture the fifties?”

  Welch snorted at her again. “Makes more sense than reliving the sixties. ‘Course, you’re a real radical, probably protesting all over the place.” He shook his head at her, obviously fighting back a grin as he looked at her from under his brows, his head lowered like a bull ready to charge. “You really think that crap does any good?”

  Tess felt her temper flare and stomped on it. Getting mad was what Welch wanted her to do, the old goat. If she wanted to help Nick, the best thing she could do was shut up.

  She shut up.

  Nick moved his hand away again, patting her knee in gratitude as he did so.

  Welch needled her some more. “Your problem is that you’re in the wrong decade. The hippies are gone, Tess. Give it up.”

  “Give it up?” Tess said, holding on to her temper. “Then who will do it if I don’t?”

  “That’s what I thought— you’re a martyr. And for what? All that protesting never accomplished squat, anyway.” Welch grinned at her. “Sixties’ stuff. That’s all out of date now.”

  “Well, values are timeless,” Tess said goaded beyond endurance. “Do you have any?”

  “How about this roast beef?” Nick said. “And the gravy? My compliments to the cook.”

  “Butt out, Jamieson,” Welch said, and then went back on attack. “Yeah, I have values. Hard work, drive and success. Those are my values. And they’ll get me a lot farther than your touchy-feely ideals will get you.” He peered at her, watching avidly for her reaction, but Tess w
as suddenly too angry to notice.

  “Values aren’t buses,” she said shortly. “They’re not supposed to get you anywhere. They’re supposed to define who you are. And I’d rather be touchy-feely than morally bankrupt.”

  “Well, really,” the blonde said.

  “Awfully nice party,” Park said.

  “Well, I’d rather be morally bankrupt than literally bankrupt,” Welch shot back. “Right, Jamieson?”

  They both turned to Nick.

  “I’d rather not be either,” Nick said. “I’m certainly looking forward to hearing you read tomorrow, sir.”

  Welch closed his eyes in disgust. “Typical lawyer.”

  “On that we agree,” Tess said, and was surprised to see him grin at her.

  “Good for you,” Welch said, and turned back to the blonde, laughing, and began to talk to her.

  “What was that all about?” Tess asked Nick.

  “That was the sound of one account escaping,” Park hissed at her across the table, glaring.

  “Oh, no,” Gina said, and absentmindedly began to eat faster in distress.

  “Will you please shut up for the rest of the night?” Park continued. “I know you won’t do it for me, but think of Nick for a change.”

  Tess met Nick’s eyes.

  “Just eat,” Nick said, and Tess picked up her fork and looked across the table in time to see Gina sopping up the last of her gravy with a roll. She tried to catch her eye to shake her head, but Gina was oblivious in her tension. That’s my fault, too, Tess thought, and tried to kick her friend under the table, but she caught Park on the shin instead.

  He turned outraged eyes on her just as the blonde said, “My dear, what are you doing?” to Gina.

  Gina froze, roll in hand.

  “She’s making the most of this delicious gravy,” Tess said with a pointed glare at the blonde who glared back. Tess picked up her roll to do the same, prepared to filet the blonde if she said one more word to Gina.

  “Well, really,” the blonde said again, and Tess opened her mouth but Nick was already speaking.

  “It’s the only way,” Nick said and picked up his own roll. “Don’t you think, Park?”

  Park was still looking at Gina’s plate in puzzlement, but he caught on gamely. “Absolutely,” he said, looking around the table for a roll.

  “Oh, no,” Gina said faintly, dropping hers.

  “She’s right,” Welch said from the end of the table. “Good for you, kid. I like a woman who knows how to eat.”

  Gina’s smile was so weak it barely existed.

  The blonde looked up from the bread on her plate to glare at Tess, clearly not sure where she stood on the roll question but definitely sure where she stood on Tess.

  Tess ignored her and turned back to Welch. “I like you,” she said. “I apologize for the morally bankrupt part.”

  Welch grinned at her, and she felt Nick relax with a sigh beside her and begin to speak to the blonde across the table, smoothing her ruffled feelings as only Nick the snake-oil salesman could.

  Tess leaned toward Welch. “You know, I didn’t get that woman’s name,” she whispered to him. “Who is she?”

  Welch lowered his voice so the blonde wouldn’t hear him. “Tricia Sigler.”

  “Sigler?” Tess said, taken aback.

  “Yeah,” Welch said, watching with interest.

  Tess felt her stomach sinking. “Any relation to Alan Sigler? The Decker Academy?”

  “Husband. He couldn’t make it tonight. She came alone.” Welch looked at her with calculation. “What’s the Decker Academy to you?”

  “I was thinking about getting a job there,” Tess said. She felt like kicking herself. Nick had warned her. Gina had warned her. Hell, even Park had warned her. It was her own fault that she’d antagonized the wife of the only ally she had at Decker. Dumb. She sighed and then realized Welch was watching her and smiled brightly at him to distract him. “So tell me,” she said, “exactly where did you get Henderson? My first thought was Sears, but after watching him in action, I’ve switched my guess to Nieman Marcus.”

  Welch’s roar of laughter beautifully covered Nick’s groan, but it didn’t do anything to dim Tricia Sigler’s basilisk glare.

  Chapter Five

  Two hours later, Nick stood in the doorway to Tess’s bedroom in his pajama bottoms and tried to forget the dozen different times during the evening that Tess had teased Welch with animated banter, and the way Welch’s eyes had followed her around the room even when she wasn’t saying something outrageous to him. It would be ridiculous and petty of him to be jealous of Welch. He should be grateful to Tess for so obviously captivating the man, but every time he thought of Welch growling at her in evident appreciation, it was hard to remember why he wanted the contract, or why he wanted anyone as undignified as Tess, especially since she had now draped herself in about thirty yards of pink-flowered flannel nightgown and was sitting on the bed watching him warily.

  “This is not how I’d pictured this night,” he said.

  “Oh? And how had you pictured it?”

  “Well, to begin with, you weren’t wearing flannel,” Nick said. “But forget that for now. Did you have to argue with Welch the entire night?”

  “He started it,” Tess said. “And besides, I think he liked it. You know, I don’t think he’s healthy.” She frowned as her train of thought switched tracks. “I don’t think this dieting is enough. Maybe I should say something to Henderson about cutting off his booze, too.”

  “No,” Nick said, moving toward her. “Absolutely not. You will not say anything to Henderson.”

  “Well, not tonight, anyway.” Tess crawled into bed and flapped her hand at him. “You may go now. I’ve got a big day of fighting with Welch tomorrow, and then there’s the reading in the afternoon. I need my sleep.” She slumped down under the covers and switched off the bedside light, and then she turned her back to him.

  “Right.” Nick sat on the bed and switched the light back on. “Come on, Tess. We need to talk.”

  WHEN HE SAT NEXT TO HER on the bed, Tess debated ignoring him, but knowing Nick, he wouldn’t quit. He leaned on the pillow next to her, and she rolled over to talk to him and then regretted it.

  His arms were even better close up than she remembered, the swell of his bicep neatly cleaving into the long lovely line of his shoulder, the hint of his tricep promising—

  She rolled away from him, trying to get her breath back, vaguely wondering why, for her, it had always been arms, and why he had to have such great ones.

  “Tess?”

  “Go to sleep.”

  “I think we should talk.”

  “Go to sleep.”

  “I mean it,” Nick insisted over her shoulder. “We have a lot of history that needs sorting out. You’re still mad about that parking-lot thing. I’m still confused about why you won’t go out with me. I think—”

  Tess rolled over and ended up against his chest. “You necked with me in a parking lot until I was insane with lust and then you said you didn’t want to sleep with me, but you don’t know why I won’t go out with you? And just for the record, I’m spending the weekend with you, so don’t try that just-give-me-a-chance garbage on me. I’m helping you, you ingrate.”

  “See, I think we should talk,” Nick said, and she was momentarily distracted by the backlighting on his deltoid and how warm his chest was against her cheek, and her breath went again.

  “Put on a shirt, and we’ll talk,” Tess said and rolled away from him again.

  “Fine.”

  She felt Nick get off the bed, then come back a few moments later. She checked over her shoulder. The shirt was on. It wasn’t buttoned, and he did have a nice chest. Well, actually he had a great chest, but chests were resistible. It was arms that made her weak. “Okay,” she said, sitting up in bed and propping a pillow against the headboard behind her. “Talk.”

  He propped the other pillow next to hers and relaxed against it. “Let’s ge
t the worst over with first. The parking lot.”

  “Good choice.” Tess seized on past anger to defuse present desire. “I am definitely still hostile about that damn parking lot.”

  “Well, first, I never said I didn’t want to sleep with you—” Nick began.

  “You said no.”

  “I said I didn’t want to make love with you in the front seat of my car in the middle of the Music Hall parking lot because, among other things, it’s against the damn law.” He glared at her.

  Tess glared back. “This is an apology?”

  “No,” Nick said. “This is an explanation. I was more than willing, perfectly willing, extremely willing, to take you back to my apartment and make love with you all night if necessary, but you got all huffy—”

  “What’s romantic about going back to your apartment?” Tess asked him, annoyed.

  “What’s romantic about doing it in the front seat of a sports car?” Nick retaliated. “Hell, I’m not even sure it’s possible. There’s not that much room.”

  “We could have found out,” Tess said. “But no, you had to be respectable and responsible—”

  “Besides, I have a career on the line here—”

  “—and dull and boring—”

  “—which I realize means nothing to you—”

  “—and completely unexciting—”

  “—but it means a lot to me—”

  “—not to mention a grave comment on how little you actually wanted me—”

  “—or at least enough that I’m not going to risk it for sex in a car—”

  “—which is why I see no reason in pursuing this relationship—”

  “—and anyway I prefer beds—”

  “—so you can just go back to your own bed!” Tess flared.