He’d been meaning to do it for months, ever since it had become obvious they couldn’t patch things up. He just hadn’t gotten around to it—partly laziness, partly the fact they were beautiful, artistic photographs, leaving aside any biases he had about the model. And partly, he admitted it, because he would have been lonely without that familiar face around the place he used to share with her.
Tonight, though, Nick couldn’t bear all those copies of her. Tonight, her soft, wide eyes and supple, tattooed body took second place to her air of complete vulnerability.
Each picture seemed like an accusation: Why didn’t you protect me? Why didn’t you give me what I craved, make me yours, save me from myself?
Why didn’t you give me the kind of love I needed instead of the kind you wanted to give me?
Chapter Twelve
“How’s life in Boston?” Molly sounded like her usual self, a bit frazzled on the surface but calm underneath. Selene could hear one child or the other acting up in the background. Selene’s theory was that since Molly had seen so much that was truly bad before turning ten, the little annoyances of life didn’t rattle her.
Selene mopped her brow with a tissue and then dabbed between her legs because she was still leaking a bit from simply thinking about Nick and the weekend they’d shared. “Hot.”
“Here too, although I’ve been hearing thunder rumbling up the lake, so it may break soon.”
Even though she knew Molly couldn’t see her, Selene let loose with her best devilish, sated-woman grin. “Well, yeah, it’s about ninety-eight million degrees, and my AC is barely keeping up, but when I say hot, I mean hawt.”
Molly sputtered. “You’ve met someone already? Selene, you haven’t even finished unpacking yet. How in the world do you do it? Is he in your program? Please tell me he’s not a professor because that’s just asking for trouble.”
No, I wouldn’t do anything that dumb. I went to a meeting for kinky singles and asked a guy if he’d help me fulfill my fantasies about being tied up, spanked and dominated. Isn’t that how everyone meets someone in a new town?
No. Not the way she was going to put it.
“Met him at a party and we just clicked. His name’s Nick McCutcheon and…”
“Is he employed and relatively sane?”
That was Molly, all right. She knew Selene way too well. “He writes security software, specialized stuff for the government. IRS, I think, not military,” she added quickly. As a deacon and would-be minister, Molly was a pacifist, and Selene didn’t want to get sidetracked into a discussion of the moral ramifications of Nick’s career. “So far, he only seems crazy-offbeat-and-fun, not crazy-crazy. He owns his own place, and it’s nice.” And decorated with bondage pictures and has D rings on the bed and walls for tying girls up. “And Molly, he is gorgeous.”
Molly laughed. “They always are, babe. You find hot ones. Crazy ones, irresponsible ones, jerky ones and just plain wrong-for-you ones like Will, but they’re all good-looking. If this one doesn’t work out, you might want to try someone a little more average. I’ve had good luck with mine.”
“Can I help it if I’m shallow? I keep hoping I’ll find someone who’s megastud gorgeous on the outside and Devin on the inside.”
Molly’s Devin was not exactly cover-model material. Short, overweight and prematurely balding, with a round, sweet face and glasses, he was more a teddy bear than a stud. He adored Molly and made her very happy, and if he’d been a two-headed green alien and made Molly happy, Selene still would have thought he had his own kind of beauty.
Color her shallow, though, but she’d take Nick’s kind of beauty any day.
“And I hope you do. Ben, don’t do that to the kitty! Just a second…” When she returned to the phone, apparently clutching two-year-old Ben, based on some of the noises Selene overheard, she added, “Sorry if I sounded all deacony. All through June, I helped the pastor out with pre-wedding counseling, and some of these kids—though when I say kids, some of them are older than we are, just amazingly immature—were so unrealistic, I know we’ll be counseling them through a divorce six months down the road. It’s making me cynical. I just want you to find your happy ending, Selene, find someone who makes you as happy as Devin makes me. And it’s great that you’re having fun, but haven’t you ever thought it might be time to settle…”
“Hello, you’re talking to almost-got-married-for-all-the-wrong-reasons lass here. Have you forgotten Will already? I mean, I’ve tried to forget that mess, but I’m surprised you have. Being a deacon and all, I thought you’d remember the major reason I’m probably going to hell.”
Molly sputtered again, startling her son into saying “What’s wong, Mamma?”
Selene smiled at his toddler mispronunciation. “I’m not even thinking about anything serious until I’ve figured out what the right reasons are for me and what I need in a relationship. I don’t want to put myself or anyone else in that position again. Nick’s a great guy, and he’s…well, he went through a messy breakup not too long ago himself, so we’re not rushing into anything.” Well, except bed, but Molly had no doubt figured that out already, and Selene was not sharing even the minor juicies while Molly was cuddling little Ben.
On the other hand, sharing juicy details or not, she wasn’t about to lie by omission about what Molly would consider even more important than the best damn sex ever.
Especially not when it had been bubbling up inside her for a few days now. She had to get it out of her system, get a reality check on it from someone who had a history of being smarter and more sensible than she was.
“The thing is, I think he’s one of the good guys. The really good guys. Like my dad and Devin. I haven’t known him long, but I’ve already seen that he’s willing to go out on a limb to help a woman in trouble—even when it’s his ex. He calls regularly, even though we’ve said we’re taking it slowly. And there are other things about him, things that make me feel really secure and comfortable.” And others that made her feel nervous in a sexy way, but while those were just as important as the comfortable, comforting parts, they were harder to explain.
Molly made a happily speculative noise, then said, “Sounds promising, and you sound smitten. I hope it works out.”
“That’s the thing,” she said, hoping the edge in her voice would get across her point where her words apparently wouldn’t. “I can’t fall for him. Not now, maybe not ever. He’s made it clear he wants to keep it light. I think he’s still on the rebound. If I start getting too serious, I’ll either drive him away, or I’ll end up pushing him into something he’s not ready for like Will did to me.”
Not that she thought for a minute he was as weak as she was, as susceptible to being manipulated by someone else’s needs. He was a dom, after all, confident and take-charge and sure of himself. He wouldn’t make the mistake she had with Will. But she’d heard the edge of regret in his voice when he talked about Natalie, and she didn’t want to be a cause for regret down the road. Maybe wistful wasn’t-that-fun-while-it-lasted memories, but not regret.
“So anyway,” she said, “how are the kids doing?”
Monday started much too early. It always did, and not getting to sleep before two because he was too busy considering the Natalie problem again hadn’t helped one bit. Nick needed a gigantic iced coffee. Badly. No way was he going to face the morning without a stop at the coffee shop by the office.
He got in the long line and heard a “hello”.
Craig Whittaker was coming right at him. Nick tried to dodge, but there was nowhere to go in the crowded coffee shop, at least not without losing his precious place in line, and dammit, he had his priorities. Craig was to be avoided, but coffee was coffee.
Craig sidled up to him and whispered, “So, you and Selene? Very interesting.”
Nick quickly considered a number of responses. His favorite involved opening a very small black hole and watching gleefully as Craig was sucked into another dimension, but he couldn’t figure out ho
w to pull it off.
He opted for a simple, “I think so,” but realized immediately it had been a mistake. Even in those three words, he sounded smug, and that would make Craig that much more curious.
Who told Craig anyway? Certainly not Garth or Alison. Alison wouldn’t have told Craig where the hose was if his pants were on fire. She’d probably look for marshmallows to roast.
“Bill Moody said you two looked pretty intimate at Garth and Alison’s.”
Bill had been there? Shows how observant he’d been and how distracted by Selene. As a fine example of the theory that desire makes no sense at all, Craig, the local poster child for rabid and undiscriminating heterosexuality, had provoked a huge crush in an otherwise sensible gay guy. Craig had zero interest in men—lucky for Bill—but he did use Bill as a source for any hot gossip he might have missed.
“We’ve had a few dates. And that’s all the information you’re getting.”
He tried once more to walk away.
“I’m not asking for details, Nick. I’m surprised, that’s all,” Craig said. “She’s no Natalie.”
That pulled Nick up short.
Of course she was no Natalie. That was one—more like five—of Selene’s charms. He wasn’t about to explain that to Craig, but he was morbidly curious to know what Craig thought he was talking about. “Yes?” he drawled. “Go on.”
Craig looked around before answering, making sure the immediate area was clear of their coworkers. “Natalie is an extraordinary creature. So supple, so yielding, so exquisitely trained. No will other than to serve.”
“And you’d know this how?”
“We played a few times after you released her. I couldn’t offer her the stability she needs…”
Nick nodded in a go-on way, narrowly suppressing the urge to say, That would be because you’re fucking around on your wife. It occurred to him that Craig wanted him to react in some way, to be upset or jealous or angry that he’d been with Natalie.
To his surprise, he wasn’t. A bit disgusted that Natalie had even considered Craig, let alone played with him, but that was just more proof that Natalie craved a different kind of dominance than what Nick wanted to give.
Craig rattled on. “I can’t see how Selene could possibly measure up. How could you settle for an inexperienced smart-ass masochist, even a pretty one, after having someone so perfect?”
If Nick had been surprised that he took the goading about Natalie so calmly, he was astonished by the cold fury that overtook him at that remark.
It was one thing to talk about Natalie as if she were a beautiful object. It worked with her kinks. She’d probably take that as a compliment.
Selene was a different matter.
Once again, a number of possible responses to Craig’s stupidity flew through his head. Several of his favorites started with punching Craig in the mouth, but that would lead to all sorts of complications, like getting fired and/or arrested and/or barred from his favorite coffee shop; that, Craig wasn’t worth.
In the end, he settled for, “For one, I like smart-ass masochists. For two, since when is it settling to choose the most interesting woman you’ve met in years? And for three, I really do need to get my coffee and get back to work. See you at the next project meeting. Try not to be late this time.”
This time, he managed to get away while Craig was doing his fish-out-of-water imitation, and order his iced coffee.
It wasn’t until he was back in the office and the iced coffee started working its caffeinated magic that he realized what he’d said—that he’d chosen Selene.
What?
He should have left it at “only a few dates so far”. For one thing, it was the truth. Granted, the first one had been a forty-eight-hour date and an intense one at that, but they’d both said no commitments, no romance, just a good time. And sure, he wanted to see her again, but what guy wouldn’t when the first few dates had led to enough over-the-top sex that he had sore muscles in odd places?
What made him decide to mark his territory, to rub Craig’s nose in the fact that Selene had said yes to him after saying no to Craig? That was just asking for trouble.
What had possessed him to say it?
A little voice tried to suggest that he’d said it because Selene had gotten under his skin more than he’d expected. He drowned it by taking another brain-freezing slug of iced coffee and turning his attention to a particularly knotty bit of code that had left him scratching his head on Friday.
He was so not letting himself go there.
It was the particle physics of relationships.
If he let himself consider the possibilities of a future with Selene, beyond casual dating and great sex, those possibilities would evaporate. The only way he could actually get to those possibilities was by indirection. By not thinking about them. By enjoying what they had and going from there.
Doing otherwise had been his mistake with Natalie.
Natalie, whom he still needed to find.
He’d let her down, hadn’t been able to be—didn’t want to be—the man she needed.
The more he brooded about that, the more he realized the many ways he’d screwed up there. What he’d given her had been so far from what she thought she needed, she’d bolted and ended up vulnerable and alone, open to the first asshole who claimed to offer her what she needed. Did that make it his fault? He’d been her master, however briefly, so wasn’t he responsible for her?
Not too many people were in the office yet. It was the kind of summer morning when people moved slower, lingered in the coffee shop a little longer before heading back to the hot street and to the office, or sat by the fountain in the park sipping an iced latte, soaking up any passing breezes and trying desperately to pretend they were at the beach.
He got out his cell phone. Just like he hadn’t gotten around to taking down Natalie’s pictures at his house, he hadn’t deleted a few Natalie-related numbers from his cell.
Her old office. Just as he’d feared, they said she’d quit months ago and no one knew where she’d gone. Maybe they wouldn’t say, but Nick sensed honest ignorance rather than following the dictates of a privacy policy.
Debbie’s studio. No one was there, which wasn’t that surprising. Debbie did a lot of night and weekend shoots, so she wasn’t exactly an early-morning-at-the-office girl. He left a message, asking Debbie to call, saying it was about Natalie without going into details. He had no idea if Debbie would even call back. He’d never been close to the photographer, and he had a feeling that he might have come off poorly if Natalie had told her only her side of the breakup.
Nat’s mother.
He got as far as highlighting the number, hesitated.
Probably nothing was wrong, and Nat had just decided to cut her losses in Boston and immerse herself in a new life. In that case, he’d scare Mrs. Sherman into heart failure if he didn’t phrase his questions just right.
But what if she really was in trouble? A long time ago, he’d promised Natalie he’d be her knight, protecting and cherishing her. Just because that hadn’t been what she wanted, just because she thought she wanted the sexy villain rather than a slightly tarnished white knight, didn’t mean the promise was invalidated.
Nick thought it through as he poked and prodded at the code, trying to let his subconscious find the right words to ask a mother if her daughter was safe without actually saying it in so many words.
What happened instead was that the coding solution came to him.
Well, his boss would be happy, anyway.
It wasn’t until evening that he finally worked up the nerve to call Mrs. Sherman. Some large part of him was praying that she wouldn’t answer the phone, that the number he had for her was wrong.
Maybe he’d get lucky and a great crater would swallow Jamaica Plain whole and spare him the awkwardness of a heart-to-heart with his ex-lover’s mother.
He wasn’t that lucky. Mrs. Sherman answered the phone on the second ring, with an almost breathless, eager
quality that vanished as soon as she realized it was Nick.
After far more pondering than he’d really needed to do, Nick had just decided to go for the easy, straightforward, non-alarmist method. “Hey, it’s Nick. I’ve lost Natalie’s new number. I was hoping I could get it from you. I found some of her stuff in the back of the closet and need to know what to do with it.”
Mrs. Sherman snorted, and somehow the snort sounded bitter, even though it was brief and essentially toneless. “I hope you have better luck reaching her than I have. I never seem to catch her when she actually has time to talk, and it always takes forever for her to call back. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks myself.”
“She must be busy. New job, new home, new boyfriend.” Nick hadn’t meant to ask, but he couldn’t resist. “What’s he like? I know it’s none of my business, but…” He wanted to come up with some lighthearted, teasing way to say it, but what came out was, “I may not be involved with her any more, but she’s still my friend, and none of us have heard much about him.”
Other than a few things that made him and everyone else wary, but again, not something Mrs. S needed to know.
A long silence, a silence of the kind that Nick didn’t like to hear from anyone female, especially not someone his mother’s age—a considering-whether-or-not-to-cry kind of silence, the kind where someone’s holding her breath, thinking so hard he can almost hear it.
Finally Mrs. Sherman spoke, her voice iron gray and distant. Hurt, definitely. Angry too, but mostly hurt. “I haven’t met him,” she said. “Natalie never brought him home, and she hasn’t invited me up to visit. I even asked, because some of us girls were going up to the outlets in North Conway, and I thought I could take a side trip and see her, not that it’s all that close. She’s in some tiny little place that doesn’t even have its own post office. Her PO box is in another town. I offered to take her out to lunch, if her house isn’t ready for entertaining. I know how long it can take after you move into a new place, and how fussy she is. She said no.”
Knowing the Ropes Page 9
