by Jane Graves
And finding neither.
His father signed the credit card slip. The clerk handed him the tuxedo that was hanging on the rack by the cash register. His father simply nodded thanks to the clerk, then strode out of the store.
Tony let the curtain slip out of his hand. He turned and leaned against the wall of the dressing room, a sick feeling rising in his stomach. He thought about all the times in the past three years when he’d almost picked up the phone and called, only to stop himself every time with the same thought.
Why hadn’t his father contacted him?
As more time passed, Tony had actually started to think that maybe something had happened to his father, and that was why he hadn’t called. Irrationally, he almost hoped something had. At least then he could reach some conclusion other than the fact that his father never wanted to see him again.
But clearly nothing had happened to him. He was here today, preparing to go to some formal event that required a tuxedo, moving through his days with no thought at all for the son whose life he’d made miserable.
I don’t care. I don’t need him. I don’t need him ever again.
Tony stood there a moment or two longer, waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. Then he took a deep breath and pushed the curtain back. Heather stood up and smiled at him, and some of the sick feeling in his stomach went away.
“You took long enough in there,” she said as they walked to the door.
“Sorry. I couldn’t stop admiring myself in the mirror.”
Heather grabbed the door and held it open for him. “Go ahead. See if you can squeeze your big head through the doorway.”
He stopped and stared at her. “When did you become such a smart-ass? I missed the transition moment.”
“Right after I met you. You know what they say. You are who you associate with.”
As they left the shop, Tony was a little worried that his father might still be in the vicinity, but he didn’t see him anywhere. He felt a little silly trying to avoid him, but what was he supposed to do after all this time? Walk right up and say hello?
As they strode along, Heather yawned. Then yawned again. “I have some errands to run. Then I’m heading home for a nap.”
“Sleeping in this morning didn’t help?”
“If you had let me sleep, it might have. Tomorrow’s Sunday. I’m not getting up until at least ten o’clock, so it’s hands off. Do you understand?”
“Sorry. Did you say something? I didn’t hear you.”
“Tony? What am I going to have to do to get some sleep? Get out the fuzzy purple handcuffs?”
She gave him one last look of admonishment as they got in the car. He couldn’t help smiling as he thought about the night she’d tried to bolt from his bed, dragging that sheet along with her. And now she was talking handcuffs. She wasn’t at all what he thought she was in the beginning.
She was a whole lot more.
Sweet and naïve on one hand, smart and sassy on the other. She was the only woman he’d ever been with who took absolutely no crap from him, and he was starting to understand the value of having that kind of person in his life. And if he was true to himself, after seeing his father now, he was realizing the value of having any person in his life who was there from one day to the next.
The sex might not be forever, he thought, but when this is all over, we’re staying friends. I’m not losing that. Not ever.
Heather had told Tony how tired she felt today, but lack of sleep didn’t catch up to him until after the lunch rush. He could barely keep his eyes open. Since Kayla was staying until the dinner shift, he told her he was going home for a few hours to get some sleep. Saturday afternoons were slow, but Saturday nights weren’t, and he wanted to make sure he was up for it.
As he drove home, he imagined that Heather was already in bed napping. He’d just crawl right in beside her. Hmm. Maybe one thing would lead to another, and then . . .
No. You have to sleep. And that’s that.
A few minutes later, he parked his car next to Heather’s and went into the apartment. He tossed his keys on the kitchen counter, thumbed through his mail, then headed for his bedroom, only to hear a knock at the front door.
He walked back and opened it, and the moment he saw the woman who was standing there, he felt a rush of panic. She was tall and blond with spectacular breasts, wearing a navy blue uniform with little wings on her chest and pulling a suitcase on wheels.
Babette the Air France flight attendant. She was here for their monthly rendezvous. He’d forgotten to call her off.
“Bonjour, Tonee,” she said, giving him a lightning-white smile. “Aren’t you going to let me in?”
Chapter 20
Babette glided into Tony’s apartment, obviously assuming they were full speed ahead for a little afternoon delight. Tony looked over his shoulder, praying Heather was asleep and would stay that way until he could get rid of Babette.
Babette set her suitcase upright, then turned back and slithered up next to Tony, slipping her arms around his neck. “I have wonderful plans for you tonight, Tonee. I went to a darling sex shop in Amsterdam. You will love what I bought for us.”
“That sounds real nice, but—”
“I have missed you so much,” Babette said, her gaze roaming over his face as if she wanted to swallow him whole. “I told the cab driver to go fast all the way here.” She inched closer, her lips grazing his. “Tonee? Have you missed me?”
“Uh . . . sure. Of course I have.”
“Then you want to kiss me, don’t you?” Her voice fell to a seductive whisper. “Kiss me.”
Without even waiting for him to meet her in the middle, she backed him against the wall and clamped her lips on his, kissing him with the kind of carnal wantonness that only Babette could. Her hands seemed to be everywhere at once—his face, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, and pretty soon they’d traveled south to his zipper.
He’d just reached down to grab her hands when he heard the bedroom door open. Before he could extricate himself from Babette, Heather rounded the corner and came into the living room.
“Tony? What are you doing home at—”
She stopped short and looked at him. Then at Babette. Tony opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Babette turned to him with a perplexed look. “You make me confused. You have another woman?”
Tony looked at Heather. What was he supposed to say to that? She’s my wife, but not really, and we sleep together, but it’s nothing serious, and she’s living with me, but not for long . . .
“I’m his roommate,” Heather said.
“Roommate?” Babette said.
Roommate? Tony thought.
“Yeah,” Heather said with a smile. “And I’m so sorry for interrupting. Tell you what. I’ll just go to my room, and you two can pick up where you left off.”
With that, she walked into her bedroom, not his, and closed the door behind her, leaving Tony standing there in stunned silence. He’d imagined her having a lot of different reactions, but that sure hadn’t been one of them.
Babette grabbed him by the shirt collar and dragged him up next to her. “She is so right. We should pick up where we left off.”
And then she was all over him again, giving him a kiss so indecent a porn star would cry with envy. Her hands moved from his collar to his shirt buttons, flicking them open so fast he was bare-chested before he knew it. In a matter of moments, they were going to be naked in his living room, achieving diplomacy between the United States and France in ways politicians could only dream about. Tony had always been willing to do his part for international relations, and he’d do so again in the future, too, but not until after he and Heather split up. And certainly not with her in the next room.
The question was, why had she told him to go ahead? And nonchalantly, at that?
After all their talk about being husband and wife right up to the time they weren’t anymore, it wasn’t like Heather to let something
like this go on right under her nose. Something was up, and he needed to get to the bottom of it.
He pried Babette’s hands from his zipper. “Hold on. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“But where are you going?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right back.”
Tony went to Heather’s room and knocked softly on her door.
“Yes?”
He opened the door to find Heather lying on the sofa bed, hugging a pillow, as if she were trying to go to sleep.
He nodded toward the living room. “Aren’t you going to ask who that is?”
“She looks like a flight attendant to me.”
“Yeah. Her name is Babette. We have . . . uh . . . a standing date once a month. I meant to call her off, Heather. I forgot.”
“Whatever.”
Whatever? “So what’s with the ‘roommate’ thing? I thought we were supposed to be married.”
Heather shrugged. “You were clearly having a wonderful time with Babette. Why should I mess that up?”
“Well, I guess because we’re supposed to be making people think we’re husband and wife.”
“Does it matter what Babette thinks?”
“Well, no . . .”
“It’s just one night, right? She’ll be gone tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
“And unless somebody comes crashing through the front door, no one will ever know she was here. Is that right, too?”
“Uh . . . yeah. I guess.”
“She’s a hot one, Tony. I’d suggest you go for it.” She eyed his unbuttoned shirt. “Looks like you already have a pretty good start.”
“Uh . . . yeah. But you know, lately you and I . . .”
“Have been having a good time together. But to tell you the truth, Babette’s doing me a favor. I need a day off.”
He was stunned. “A day off?”
“Yeah. I need some sleep.”
Tony was surprised at how much that hurt. She was talking about having sex with him as if it were a job, and a tedious one at that. Their relationship might not be forever, but he’d thought they meant more to each other than that.
Then he got angry. When he walked in here, he was perfectly willing to send Babette on her way, but if Heather needed a day off, that was exactly what she was going to get.
“I just don’t want you to be mad at me later and tell me I didn’t live up to our agreement,” he said.
“I won’t be mad.”
“It wouldn’t be fair if you were, you know.”
“I know.”
“Okay, then. As long as we’re clear.”
“We’re clear.”
With a curt nod, he turned around and left the room. As he walked back to the living room, though, he felt even more bewildered than before. He couldn’t believe this didn’t bother Heather at least a little bit.
Never mind. She said she doesn’t care. Take her at her word and let Babette take you to heaven. If all he wanted was recreational sex, did it really matter where it came from?
Tony found Babette draped across the sofa. She’d slipped off her shoes and her jacket and had unbuttoned enough of her blouse that he could look down her cleavage and see past France all the way to China. She gave him a provocative smile and a crook of her finger.
“Come here, Tonee.”
He sat down beside her on the sofa. The moment he hit the cushion, she stood, hiked up her skirt, and straddled his thighs. She unfastened the rest of her buttons and spread the shirt open to reveal a lacy pink bra that barely harnessed her generous breasts. She leaned into him, slipping his shirt off his shoulders and kissing her way along his neck.
In a minute, they’d move into his bedroom, get naked, and Babette would share whatever treat she’d brought from Amsterdam, which was bound to be something fun. And then tomorrow night, Heather would still be there. What more could a man want?
Ahh. Life was good.
He slid his hands beneath her skirt and stroked her thighs, letting his mind go blank, telling himself to stop thinking and start feeling. And he was one hundred percent successful at that for approximately ten seconds.
Then Heather popped back into his mind.
She was in her room right now, acting as if she didn’t have a care in the world. And the more he thought about that, the more it pissed him off. After having sex approximately a gazillion times in the past few weeks, she could have at least had the decency to be a little jealous. But no. How could she just lie there nonchalantly, as if—
And then it hit him. He knew why she was acting that way. Why hadn’t he seen it before?
She was jealous. She just didn’t want him to know it.
Yes. That was it. She was jealous. So jealous, in fact, that to keep it from him, she had to go overboard the other way, acting as if he could have an orgy in the living room and she wouldn’t bat an eyelash.
Babette jerked his shirt all the way off, tossed it aside, and went for his belt buckle. But amazingly, all Tony could think about was how terrible he felt for Heather.
He had to talk to her. Get this straightened out. Make sure she wasn’t in there crying or something.
He grabbed Babette’s hands and eased her off his lap. “Tell you what, sweetheart. Why don’t you go to my bedroom, and I’ll be there in just a minute?”
“What now?” she asked.
“Just go on in there,” he said, giving her a quick kiss. “I won’t be long.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “You are not being you, Tonee.”
“I’ll be back to my old self in just a minute. I promise. I just have to take care of something first.”
She started toward his bedroom, tossing him a skeptical look over her shoulder. That was okay. Babette was easily distracted. With a single wink, he could bring her right back up to speed.
He went to Heather’s door, knocked a little, then opened it. Strangely, she hadn’t been crying.
She’d been sleeping.
She blinked wearily and rose on one elbow, that wild cascade of hair draped over her shoulder and grazing the bed. And when she turned those clear blue eyes up to meet his, for just a few seconds he had a hard time finding his voice.
“Look, Heather,” he said gently. “I know why you’re doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Acting as if this doesn’t bother you that Babette is here and we’re . . . well, you know.”
“It doesn’t bother me.”
“Hey, it’s all right. Really. If it bothers you this much, I can ask Babette to leave.”
“Tony? Do I look bothered to you?”
“Yeah, that’s what you say, but I know what you’re thinking.”
“Oh, yeah? What am I thinking?”
“You wish Babette would go away, but you’re too afraid to say so. So you’re just sitting in here, acting as if you’re sleeping, trying to make me think you don’t care.”
Heather shook her head with amazement. “I swear you have the biggest ego of any man I’ve ever known.”
“Come on, Heather. Just admit it. You’re jealous.”
“Okay,” she deadpanned. “I’m jealous. Now, can I get back to sleep?”
“Hey, college girl,” he snapped. “Don’t you think I know reverse psychology when I hear it?”
Heather sighed. “Actually, Tony, the psychology is pretty straightforward. You want to have sex with Babette. I don’t care if you do. So if I were you, I’d go out there and get after it.” Heather’s gaze floated south of his waist, and the edge of her mouth turned up in a tiny smile. “Part of you clearly wants to.”
“I’m a man, Heather,” he said sharply. “That’s what happens when I have two women taunting me.”
Heather laughed. “Taunting you?”
“Yes! Babette’s out there making a run for the international bedhopping championship, and you’re in here . . . in here . . .” He waved his hands. “Sleeping!”
Heather’s brows drew together. “Okay. Let me see if I
have this straight. You think I’m trying to seduce you because I’m in the next room sleeping?”
For the first time, Tony realized exactly how stupid that sounded. “Well, no. Of course not. I just . . .” He let out a breath of disgust. “Oh, never mind!”
“Better hurry back out there. Your date’s getting cold.”
“Sweetheart, Babette doesn’t get cold. She stays at a toasty three thousand degrees all day long. And now I think I’ll go back out there and get hot right along with her.”
He jerked open the door and left the room, irritated beyond words. He’d very nicely offered to pull the plug on his liaison with Babette if it made Heather uncomfortable, and how had she responded? By pointing out that he had a hard-on and sending him straight back into another woman’s arms.
Now he was going back to Babette and burning up those sheets. Let Heather lie in there and think about that.
Heather lay on that crappy sofa bed, gritting her teeth so tightly she was surprised her molars didn’t crack. She hated to admit the truth, but it was impossible not to. This was driving her straight up the wall.
She just wasn’t used to having regular sex. That was the problem. It turned her mind to mush. The more she had it, the more she wanted it. And to think of Tony doing it with somebody else was just about more than she could tolerate. She’d been so proud of sounding flippant, as if she didn’t care if he dragged Babette into his bedroom and took her flying without a plane. What a crock that had been.
He’d said he would tell her to leave. So why hadn’t she taken him up on that?
Because she knew how Tony’s mind worked. He wanted her to say she was jealous only because he had an undying need to know that every woman within the sound of his voice wanted him. Well, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. He’d be doing it with plenty of other women in a few weeks, so she might as well get used to it now.
Then she heard something in the other room. Voices. Commotion of some kind. She turned her ear toward the door, trying to hear, but she couldn’t make out what was going on.
Slowly she eased off the bed and tiptoed to her bedroom door, putting her ear against it, listening for sighs of delight. Screams of passion. Something.
