Talking About Sex...

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

“Good for you! That’s excellent. He had some nerve coming over there, breaking in and then expecting you to fall into bed with him. I mean, after his past history, he can’t expect you to welcome him with open arms. I don’t care if he floats your boat or not, you have to be careful with a guy like that. So now what?”

  “I sent him home hot and bothered and told him he could come back tonight if he felt like it.”

  Cheryl whooped with laughter. “You are such a bad girl. That’s awesome. Are you gonna do it tonight or make him wait?”

  Good question. “I don’t know if I should ever do it at all.”

  “Sure you should, once you’ve turned him into a quivering puppy eager for whatever you’re willing to give. You’ll be able to judge that when the time comes. But you need your reward after all he’s put you through.”

  “I said I’d provide snacks tonight.” Katie was already regretting that. “I’m no cook. Assuming he shows up—”

  “Oh, he’ll show up.”

  “What should I serve him?”

  Cheryl jogged along in silence for a few seconds. “Fondue.”

  “Like what our parents used to make when we were kids?”

  “Exactly. It’s back in fashion. I’m sure you can find a couple of fondue pots at the mall. And melted stuff can be used for all kinds of interesting purposes.”

  “Omigod. Food sex.” Katie got hot just thinking about it.

  “See? I knew you could do the bad-girl thing.”

  “Yeah, but he might not even show up.”

  “If he doesn’t, invite me over.” Cheryl pulled her water bottle from her fanny pack and took a sip without breaking stride. “I love fondue.”

  JESS AND GABE SANCHEZ spent most of Sunday hiking the Finger Rock Trail in the Santa Catalinas. Over the years the relationship had gone way beyond employer and employee. They shared a love of strenuous hikes where the climbs were challenging and the conversation was kept to a minimum.

  Jess hoped that pattern would continue, because he didn’t want to talk about his ill-fated date with Suzanne, considering Gabe had arranged it.

  No such luck. At the first water break Gabe brought up the subject. “You haven’t said anything, so I guess Friday night was a dud, huh?”

  “Pretty much.” Except for what happened later.

  “I don’t get it. She’s smart and she has a great body.” Gabe took a swig of water. “If I hadn’t found Tanya, I’d be asking Suzanne out. Did she do something to turn you off?”

  “No.” Jess wasn’t going to mention that her laugh irritated the hell out of him. That was such a subjective thing. Someone else might think nothing of that laugh. “We just didn’t connect. Maybe it’s a lack of pheromones.”

  “Too bad. With all the trouble you’ve had with this job we’re on, you need an outlet, man. I mean, first the protesters and now you’ve got Crazy Katie on your back.”

  “Yeah.” Jess glanced away, afraid Gabe would pick up on his reaction to hearing Katie’s name. “She’s crazy, all right.”

  “Did you…uh…hear about her Friday night show?”

  “Yep.” Jess took a drink of water and worked to keep his cool. Talking about Katie made him think about tonight, which sent his pulse into overdrive and messed with his breathing.

  “Me and Tanya heard it, too. Tanya likes the show because of all the sex info, but I told her we couldn’t listen anymore after the way Katie insulted you Friday night. That was just wrong.”

  “Maybe she was only insulting the architect.”

  “Maybe so.” Gabe repositioned his Diamondbacks cap. “I took it that she thought any guy involved in a high-rise project had issues. Including me, I guess.” He grinned. “Fortunately Tanya said I have nothing to be compensating for.”

  Jess laughed. “I’m sure you’re quite the stud, buddy.”

  “So she lets me believe. Anyway, I thought that program was cold, man.”

  “There’s no point in taking that kind of crap seriously.”

  “I guess you’re right.” Gabe stuck his water bottle into his backpack. “But it would be awesome if you had a chance to show Crazy Katie that her theory is all wet.” He hoisted the backpack onto one shoulder. “If you know what I mean.”

  “Um, yeah.” Jess had in mind to show Katie that tonight, in fact.

  “Not that you’d want to crawl in bed with a smart-mouth like her. But it would be sweet to make her eat her words, wouldn’t it?”

  Jess couldn’t agree more. “It sure would.”

  KATIE HAD NEVER SPENT SO much time shopping for groceries in her life. First of all, the groceries she bought took some thought, considering she was planning a bad-girl episode. Second of all, people kept stopping her to talk about her Friday night show. That was gratifying, but she really wanted to concentrate on her purchases.

  She came home with two fondue pots, various kinds of cheese, a loaf of French bread, fudge sauce, chocolate bars, whipped cream and strawberries. She’d also picked up another bottle of the wine Jess had brought the night before. In the process she’d discovered that it was indeed pricey.

  By five-thirty she’d showered, dressed and begun cutting the French bread into cubes for the fondue pot. She’d lit the Sterno underneath both pots sitting on the coffee table in her living room. With cheese melting in one pot and chocolate simmering in the other, her apartment smelled great.

  If Jess decided to show up, she was prepared. She’d never been so prepared in her life. Tonight’s activities would also take place in her living room. The bedroom seemed like such a cliché, anyway, and she didn’t have a good place to set up for fondue…or the activities she’d planned would go along with the fondue.

  She’d dressed for maximum titillation—a short flowered skirt with a thong underneath and a white halter top with nothing underneath. No shoes either. Sensuous music with a faint tribal beat played on her sound system. The blinds were closed and the candles—Jess’s flesh-colored penis candles—were lit. She’d created quite a little den of iniquity, if she did say so.

  How strange to be planning a night of seductive pleasures for the man whose current project she hoped to torpedo. But judging from the wine and the silver stopper he’d left, Jess was obviously doing very well. He could replace this project with another one. Katie’s grandmother’s house was irreplaceable.

  At some point she’d probably tell Jess why this little house was so important to her, but she didn’t think it would make any difference. Jess was bound by contract to finish the high-rise. The only way he would not finish it was if Livingston Development halted construction because the project was getting too much bad PR.

  Realistically Katie knew she could be shooting in the dark on that one. But she had to try. Once the high-rise was built, the station’s signal would be gone and the owners would definitely sell. Sure, she could continue to do her show from another location. Being a DJ suited her perfectly and she wasn’t about to give that up, but she also wouldn’t let the little house be demolished without a fight.

  In the meantime she planned to take Cheryl’s advice and find a way to ease her pain. She didn’t know if she and Jess had a future or not. After living on her own for so many years, she’d grown fond of being single. No man had tempted her to think in couple terms.

  No man had been Jess either.

  And he was due to arrive in a matter of minutes, if he arrived at all. She’d told herself that it didn’t matter, that she’d be fine with spending the evening with Cheryl watching a rented video. But that wasn’t exactly true.

  As she carried the basket of French-bread cubes and the fondue forks into the living room, she was well aware of the time. She went back for the wine and the goblets he’d brought over. Five minutes would tell the tale. He wouldn’t be late, unless he’d changed drastically from the punctual guy she’d known.

  Her tummy felt jumpy and her pulse rate was definitely faster than normal. She surveyed her living room, checking all the details as the minutes ticked slowly by.
Besides the groceries today, she’d stopped at Target for two tan-colored beanbag chairs, which sat next to the coffee table. The vinyl surface should be perfect for, well, anything.

  Now that the moment had almost arrived, she couldn’t decide if she wanted the doorbell to ring or not. Tonight would be another test for her to see if she could maintain her bad-girl persona. If Jess stayed away, she could convince herself that she would have passed that test. But if he walked through that door…

  The bell chimed at exactly six o’clock. Katie forced herself to take a long, slow breath before going to answer it. She was shaking, but maybe he’d be so busy taking in the scene she’d created he wouldn’t notice.

  She opened the door to find him in jeans and a white dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck. And he was holding a single yellow rose. Just like that, she was a puddle of emotion. Thirteen years later and he still remembered.

  On their first date he’d brought her a yellow rose. Then he’d spent five minutes apologizing because all the red ones had been gone when he’d stopped by the grocery store, which was the only florist he could afford back then. He’d had to settle for the yellow one or downgrade to a carnation, which had seemed tackier.

  She’d raved so much about that yellow rose that it had turned into their private joke. After that he only brought her yellow roses, including the last time he gave her flowers—when he’d presented her with her prom corsage. Even today, she couldn’t look at a yellow rose without thinking of Jess.

  “Thank you.” She took the rose, noticing that this flower had probably never seen the inside of a grocery store. The bud was barely starting to open, and not a single petal was torn or bruised. The thorns had been expertly clipped.

  Yet today was Sunday. Florists weren’t normally open. Maybe he had a friend in the business and he’d called in a favor. To think he’d gone to that much trouble boosted her ego quite a little.

  She stood back so he could enter and then closed the door again. “This is really beautiful, Jess.”

  “It seemed appropriate.”

  So he’d intended to boost her ego. Maybe he planned to use that to his advantage, too. She’d have to stay on her toes with this guy, who knew all the right buttons to push. His self-confidence seemed to be back in spades, and he obviously expected her to have sex with him tonight. She could see it in his eyes.

  But she still wanted to know how he’d scored this rose today. “If you don’t mind my asking, where did you get such a perfect rose on a Sunday?”

  He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Out of somebody’s backyard. Where else?”

  She wouldn’t have believed him, except that he had broken into her apartment the night before. “Are you saying you actually stole it?”

  “Believe me, the owner doesn’t care.” He gazed at her in total unconcern, as if stealing roses was something he did all the time.

  “Well, I care. That’s something we once would have agreed on, Jess—respecting other people’s property. This is a very sentimental thing to do, but I hate to think that you vandalized someone’s rosebush in order to make this gesture.”

  “Want me to return it?”

  “That wouldn’t accomplish anything, now would it? You can’t exactly tape it back in place now that the damage is done.”

  He laughed. “Okay, okay. My backyard. My rosebush.”

  “Oh.” How interesting. She shouldn’t ask, but she couldn’t help it. “Did you plant it?”

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact.”

  As she gazed at him, she told herself not to read too much into that. But it was hard not to see the significance. “Any particular reason?”

  He shrugged. “I’m partial to yellow roses.”

  She still didn’t know if that had anything to do with her or not. She might have started him down that path, but that didn’t mean he’d thought of her when he’d picked out a rosebush for his backyard. Or that he thought of her every spring and fall when it bloomed. It could be a giant coincidence that he had a yellow rosebush blooming in his backyard. But he was no dummy, and he could be working that yellow rosebush angle for all it was worth. Therefore she shouldn’t allow herself to be too bowled over by his gift.

  “Something smells good,” he said.

  “Fondue.” She swept a hand toward the coffee table. “Have a seat in one of the beanbags while I get a vase for the rose. You can pour us each some wine if you want.”

  He glanced at the beanbag chairs. “I don’t remember those from last night.”

  “Good memory. I didn’t have them last night. I bought them this afternoon.”

  “For tonight?” He looked a little less sure of himself.

  She lifted the rose and took a deep sniff to hide her smile. “Yes. For tonight. They’re perfect for eating at the coffee table and they have the kind of surface that will take…anything.”

  He swallowed. “You mean if we spill food and stuff.” He looked decidedly wary.

  “Right. And stuff.” She walked back to the kitchen, afraid if she stayed any longer she’d start to laugh. She was much better at this bad-girl routine than she’d given herself credit for. She’d knocked Jess off balance again, and it had been so easy.

  6

  JESS THOUGHT HE’D PREPARED himself for the sexual impact of being back in Katie’s apartment. But no guy could really prepare for this barrage of—how could he describe it?—bordello lite.

  Sure, he’d set the scene last night with music and wine and candles, but he was an amateur compared to Katie. She’s bought beanbag chairs, for crying out loud. Who would think of them in connection with sex?

  Yet put them together with the coffee table full of goodies and that short skirt and skimpy halter she was wearing, and the beanbags seemed to be all about sex. They were moldable. He’d never considered that before.

  Beanbags were the ultimate surface for sex, come to think of it. You could bunch them any which way you wanted to get the best angle for…almost anything his heated imagination could think up. And speaking of up, he was getting there fast, and he’d only just arrived on the scene.

  That could be a problem. They had the whole evening ahead, and from the looks of this setup, Katie planned to drag out the action. He wanted to prove to her that he was cool with the leisurely approach to sex. She might not believe him if he sat there with a constant woody.

  Women had it easier. They could practically have a climax and nobody would be the wiser if they wanted to disguise their reaction. A guy couldn’t hide bubkes, especially while sitting on a beanbag next to a coffee table.

  So instead of sitting, he poured the wine and decided on a stroll around her living room to see if that helped mellow him out. He already knew the territory but had been too nervous to examine it closely.

  She had a shelf system against one wall that held woven baskets, clay pots and kachinas. A framed picture of her folks was there, too. The light was dim in the room, but he still recognized them. Don and Joanne Peterson, nice people. This must have been taken recently, because Joanne had looked a lot like this when he’d seen her yesterday and asked for Katie’s address.

  After staring at the snapshot of Don and Joanne for a while, he was in better control of himself. Nothing like the smiling faces of a woman’s parents to kill the sexual urge. Beside that picture stood one of Katie’s older brother, Dennis, with a pretty brunette and a little baby.

  So she was Aunt Katie now. He wondered if she’d ever thought of settling down herself. Come to think of it, she could have been married and divorced. Most of their classmates from high school were married, and some were on second marriages by now. Whenever he ran into high school friends, they always asked him what he was waiting for.

  It might be more a question of who he was waiting for. Until seeing Katie at the station Friday night he hadn’t realized how much she’d influenced his choices in women. After her he’d dated primarily blondes, but none of them had seemed quite right. Then he’d come face-to-face with Katie
and it felt as if a gear had finally meshed that had been out of alignment for years.

  He honestly hadn’t thought about his motives for planting a yellow rosebush until today, when he’d looked at it and realized that he should take her one of the buds. Unconsciously he must have planted that bush because of his memories of her.

  “Dennis married a girl from New York, so they live back there now,” Katie said as she walked into the room and set the vase on an end table. Then she came over to stand beside him. “That’s Dennis and Julie with my niece, Emma.”

  “Cute kid.”

  “Adorable.” Katie reached out and turned both pictures facedown on the shelf.

  There went Jess’s sexuality damper. “Why did you do that?”

  She glanced up at him and smiled. “Makes the room less crowded, don’t you think? Let’s go have some fondue.”

  Although Jess had a feeling they would enjoy more than fondue sitting in those beanbag chairs, he pretended that they were pulling up ordinary chairs for an ordinary snack. “Why not?” But as he lowered himself onto the pliable surface and began to imagine the possibilities, he must have groaned or whimpered or something.

  “Are you okay?” Katie sat in the chair next to him.

  “I’m just dandy.” The graceful way she eased into the scrunchy seat reminded him she was once a cheerleader who could do the splits like nobody else on the squad. The guys at school used to make bawdy jokes about that, which had caused Jess to get in a couple of fights to defend her name. Everyone on campus might have thought he and Katie were having sex, but he’d known differently.

  Now he was debating the wisdom of his course of action back in high school. If he’d accepted Katie’s offer on prom night, he wouldn’t be here feeling at a decided disadvantage with a woman who’d become extremely worldly. If he’d had sex with Katie thirteen years ago, they might have stayed together.

  And yet…staying together might not have been the best thing for them. He could have done something stupid and asked her to marry him before either of them were ready for that. They’d both needed time to spread their wings.