Toxic Bachelors

by Danielle Steel

  “That would have been a terrible waste of a beautiful face and a great body. Thank God you didn't.” He sounded as though he meant it.

  “Thank you, Adam. That was a nice thing to say. I really think you should go to bed now, or you're going to have a worse headache tomorrow.” He hadn't thought about it for the past half hour, while talking to her, but he realized suddenly, as he glanced at the clock, that his headache had gone away. It was four A.M.

  “What about breakfast tomorrow? What time do you get up?”

  “Usually around nine o'clock. Tomorrow I was going to sleep in. I have the day off from work.”

  “Me too. On both counts. I'll pick you up at noon. I'll take you somewhere nice for brunch.”

  “How nice?” She sounded worried. Most of what she wore belonged to her roommates. None of what she had had on the night they met had belonged to her, which was why the blouse was so tight. She had the biggest boobs in the house, but she said none of that to Adam. And he had guessed what she was worried about. A lot of the girls he went out with were in the same boat.

  “How about blue jeans nice, or denim skirt nice? Or shorts nice?” He was trying to give her options.

  “Denim skirt nice sounds good.” She sounded relieved.

  “Perfect. I'll wear one too.” They both laughed, and he jotted down her address again, on the pad he kept next to his bed. Usually, when he wrote something down in the middle of the night, it was because one of his clients had been arrested. This had been a lot more fun. “Thanks, Maggie. I had a nice time tonight.” Nicer possibly than if he'd seen her. This way he had actually talked to her, it hadn't been about trying to seduce her, and he wasn't at all sure that brunch the next day would be about seducing her either. Maybe they would just wind up friends. They were off to a good start.

  “I had a nice time, too. I'm glad you called me, even if it was a booty call,” she teased him.

  “It was not a booty call,” he insisted, but she wasn't convinced, and neither was he. It had been a booty call, but came to a much better end. And his headache was gone too.

  “Yeah, right.” Maggie hooted at him. “It was too. Anything after ten o'clock is a booty call, and you know it.”

  “Who made up those rules?”

  “I did,” she said, laughing into the phone.

  “Get some sleep. If you don't, you'll look like hell tomorrow. No, I guess you won't. You're too young to look like hell, but I will.”

  “No, you won't,” she said practically. “I think you're very handsome.”

  “Goodnight, Maggie,” he said quietly. “You'll recognize me by the fat head I'll still have tomorrow.” Between her comments about Harvard and his good looks, he had begun to really like her. She made him feel like a million dollars, with or without a headache. It had been a nice end to a terrible evening. She had made it up to him for all the abuse he always endured on Long Island. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Night night,” she said softly, and hung up. And as she got into bed and crawled under the blanket, she wondered if he'd actually show up. Guys did things like that. They made promises and then broke them. She decided to get dressed and wait for him anyway, just in case. But even if he didn't show up the next day, it had been nice talking to him. He really was a nice guy, and she liked him.

  13

  MAGGIE WAS SITTING ON THE COUCH IN THE LIVING room waiting for him the next day. It was nearly noon, and it was a gorgeous day. The first Saturday in October. She was wearing a denim miniskirt, a tight pink T-shirt she had borrowed from one of her roommates, and gold sandals. She had pulled her long hair straight back this time, and had tied a pink scarf around it in a long ponytail that made her look even younger than she was. This time, she had worn very little makeup. She had gotten the feeling that he thought she was wearing too much the night they met.

  The next time she looked at her watch, it was five after twelve and he hadn't shown up yet. Everyone else in the apartment had gone out, and she was beginning to wonder if he really was going to come. Maybe not. She decided to give it till one, and if he didn't, she was going to go for a walk in the park. There was no point being depressed if it didn't happen. She hadn't told anyone, so no one was going to laugh at her if he stood her up. She was thinking about it when the phone rang. It was Adam, and she smiled the minute she heard his voice. Then just as quickly, she wondered if he was calling to cancel. It seemed weird that he was calling her, and not downstairs ringing the bell.

  “Hi, how are you?” She tried to sound casual, so he wouldn't think she was too disappointed. “How's your headache?”

  “What headache? I forgot, what number is your apartment?”

  “Where are you?” She was stunned. He was coming after all. Better late than never, and it was only twelve-ten.

  “I'm downstairs.” He was calling from his cell phone. “Come on down. I made a reservation for lunch.”

  “I'll be right down.” She hung up and bounded down the stairs, before he could disappear or change his mind. It was rare in her life, and always had been, for people to actually do what they said. And he had.

  She walked out her front door, and he was sitting there looking like a movie star in his brand-new red Ferrari. It was the one he had driven to Long Island the night before, which his entire family had politely ignored. His parents drove matching Mercedes, as did his sister-in-law and brother, his brother-in-law drove a BMW, and his sister didn't drive at all. She expected other people to turn their lives upside down, stop whatever they were doing, and drive her. As far as they were concerned, a Ferrari was so beyond the pale and so vulgar as to not even be worth discussing. But Adam loved it.

  “Oh my God! Look at that car!” Maggie was standing there, looking at him, and jumping up and down on the sidewalk. Adam grinned while he watched her, and then opened the door and told her to get in. She had never seen anything like it, except in movies, and she was riding in it with him. She couldn't believe it. She wished that someone she knew could see them driving by. “Is this yours?” she asked him excitedly.

  “No. I stole it.” He laughed at her. “Of course it's mine. Hell, let's face it, I went to Harvard.” They both laughed, and then she handed him a small package. “What's that?”

  “A present for you. I went to the grocery store and got it for you this morning.” She had bought him a bottle of Tylenol in case he got another headache.

  “That was nice of you,” he said, smiling at her. “I'll save it for the next time I see my mother.”

  Adam drove through Central Park. It was a beautiful afternoon. He stopped on Third Avenue at a restaurant that had a sidewalk café and a garden. He ordered eggs Benedict for both of them, after she assured him that she liked them. She had never had them before, but they sounded good to her when he described them. Afterward, they sat at their table in the garden and drank wine, and when they finally left the restaurant, they went for a walk. She loved looking in the shop windows with him, and talking about the people he represented. He talked about his children, the demise of his marriage, and what an agony it had been for him, and then he talked about his two best friends, Charlie and Gray. By the end of the afternoon, she felt as though she knew everything about him, and she had cautiously told him some things about herself.

  Maggie was more reserved than he was, and she seemed to prefer talking about him. She told him little anecdotes about her childhood, her foster parents, the people where she worked. But it was obvious to both of them, and always had been, that her life was a lot less exciting than his. Most of the time, all she did was eat, sleep, go to movies, and work. She didn't seem to have a lot of friends. She said she didn't have time to spend with them. She worked long hours at Pier 92, and she was vague when he asked what else she did with her time. She smiled and said, “Just work.” He was surprised at how easy it was being with her. She was nice to talk to, and although she'd led a simple life, she seemed wise in the ways of the world. She'd seen a lot, some of it none too pleasant, for a woman of t
wenty-six. She looked younger than she was, but she was a lot older in her head. Older even than Adam in some ways.

  They got back in his car at six o'clock, and she was thinking to herself that she hated to see the day end. It was almost as though he read her mind. He turned to her with a hopeful expression. “How about if I barbecue some steaks for us on my terrace? How does that sound to you, Maggie?”

  “Extremely good,” she said, beaming at him. He said he had some in the fridge.

  She had only seen buildings like the one he lived in in movies. The doorman greeted them on the way in, and smiled at her. She was a pretty woman, and people looked at her everywhere they went. Adam pressed the elevator button marked Penthouse, and as soon as he let her into the apartment, she stood there in silence, staring at the view.

  “Oh my God,” she said, just as she had about the Ferrari. “Just look at that.” He was on the thirty-second floor, and he had a wraparound terrace complete with hot tub, deck chairs, and barbecue. “This is a movie,” she said, staring at him, dumbfounded. “How did this happen to me?”

  “Just lucky, I guess.” He teased her. The thing that made him sad for her, now that he knew her better, was that it hadn't happened to her. It had happened to him. After dinner, she would have to go back to the miserable tenement where she lived. He hated the realities of her life, for her sake. She deserved so much more than fate had dished out to her. Some things really weren't fair. All he could do was give her a pleasant evening, feed her well, spend some time together, and send Maggie back to her own world. Nothing he did would change the stark realities for her, but the funny thing was, she didn't seem to mind. She didn't have a jealous bone in her body, and whatever facet of his life she saw or heard about, she was happy for him.

  Maggie was a totally different kind of woman from anyone he had ever met before. She looked like all the others, but absolutely nothing about her was the same. She was kind and gentle and funny, and everything about her was real. She was smart, and enjoyed sparring with him. And much to his delight, she thought he walked on water. The other women he went out with all wanted to use him. They wanted wardrobes, jewelry, charge cards, apartments, new cars, plastic surgery, and introductions for jobs or parts in movies. All the women he knew appeared to have multiple agendas. Maggie seemed as though all she wanted was to be with him and share a good time. There was an irresistible quality of innocence about her in contrast to all the women who had crossed his path in the past several years.

  She made a big salad while he got the steaks out of the fridge and lit the barbecue. The steaks were huge and made an enormous meal, and afterward, they ate ice cream in cones on the terrace and dripped it all over themselves while they laughed at each other. Maggie had strawberry ice cream all over her feet, but didn't seem to care.

  “Here,” Adam said helpfully, “stick them in the hot tub. No one will ever know.” He pulled the lid off for her, and the water was bubbling and warm. It was big enough for at least a dozen people, and she sat on the edge, stuck her feet in, and giggled.

  “You must give a lot of wild parties,” Maggie said, looking at him, as she sat on the edge of the hot tub in her denim skirt and pink T-shirt. She looked more than ever like a little kid.

  “What makes you say that?” he answered noncommittally. He never liked talking about the other women in his life, and he thought Maggie was about to ask him about that.

  “Look at this setup,” she said, glancing around and then back at him. “Hot tub, penthouse, terrace, barbecue, great apartment, killer view. Hell, if I lived in a place like this, I'd have friends over all the time.” She hadn't gone at all in the direction he expected.

  “Sometimes I do,” he said honestly. “Sometimes I like being here by myself. I work hard, sometimes it's nice to just chill out.” She nodded. When she got home from work at night, she felt that way too. And then he added with a gentle look, “I'm having a good time being here with you.”

  “Me too,” she said simply, watching him from where she sat. “How come you don't want to get remarried?”

  “How do you know that?” He looked puzzled.

  “You said it on the phone last night,” she explained, and he nodded. He had been so sleepy much of the time that he had forgotten a lot of what he'd said. All he remembered was how nice it had been to talk to Maggie. “Don't you want more kids? You're young enough to have them.” It was the kind of exploration most women made with him, and never liked the answers they got. But he was always honest with them. He believed in truth in advertising, whether or not the women chose to believe him. Most of them didn't. He just became a bigger challenge once he told them the truth.

  “I like the two I've got. I don't need to get married. I don't want more kids. And marriage wasn't such a great experience for me. I have a lot more fun being single than I ever did being married.”

  “I'll bet you do,” Maggie said, laughing at him. “So would any guy with all the toys you've got.” She was the first woman who had ever acknowledged that to him. Most of them tried to convince him that marriage would be better. Maggie didn't. She seemed to think he was right.

  “That's kind of how I see it,” he agreed with her. “Why give up all this for one woman who could disappoint you and make you unhappy?” Maggie nodded. He couldn't even imagine one who would not disappoint him and might make him happy. That seemed sad to her.

  “Do you have a lot of girlfriends?” She suspected he did. He looked like the kind of man who would. If nothing else, the Ferrari said he was a pretty racy guy.

  “Sometimes,” he said honestly again. “I don't like to be tied down. My freedom means a lot to me.” She nodded. She liked the fact that he didn't try to hide who he was. It was all open and easy to see. “Sometimes I don't go out with anyone for a while.”

  “And now?” she asked with a look of mischief. “Lots, or none at all, or just a few?”

  He smiled at her from where he sat. “Are we filling out a questionnaire again?” She had asked him a lot of questions the night before too. It seemed to be her style. “I'm not seeing anyone particular right now.”

  “Are you auditioning?” she teased, looking more womanly than she had before. She was a beautiful girl. In broad daylight, he could see it more clearly than he had the night they met.

  “Are you applying for the job?”

  “Maybe,” she said honestly. “I'm not sure.”

  “What about you?” he asked her quietly. “Are you seeing someone?”

  “Nope. I haven't dated anyone in a year. The last guy I went out with turned out to be a drug dealer and wound up in jail. He seemed like a real nice guy for a while. I met him at Pier 92.”

  “I'm not dealing drugs, if you're worried about that,” he reassured her. “Everything you see, I made from the sweat of my brow.”

  “I wasn't worried about that with you.” He got up then, and went to put some music on. The evening seemed to be taking a romantic turn. When he came back, she asked him another question, one that was important to her. “What if we go out with each other one day? Would you be going out with other women at the same time?”

  “I might. I won't put you at risk, if that's what you're worried about. I'm careful and I had an AIDS test recently.”

  “So did I,” Maggie said matter-of-factly. She'd had it after the drug dealer went to jail.

  “If you're asking if I would promise to be totally exclusive to you, Maggie, probably not. At least not at first. Where it goes after that, who knows? I like keeping my options open, and at your age, so should you.” She nodded. She didn't love what she was hearing, but it made sense to her too, and at least he was honest. He wasn't going to make promises and then cheat on her. But he was going to see other people. And so could she. “Even if we were dating, I like having separate lives. I've been single for a long time, nearly eleven years, and as far as I know, it's going to stay that way. I don't want to get all tangled up in someone else's life.”

  “I still think you're wr
ong on that one,” she said easily, “about getting remarried, but that's up to you. I don't want to get married for a long time either. I'm too young. There's a lot I still want to do, at least for the next few years. But one day I'd like to get married and have kids.”

  “You should.”

  “I want to give my kids everything I never had. Like a mother for instance,” she said quietly.

  “I never had one either,” he said, as he walked over to where she was sitting at the edge of the hot tub, dangling her feet in like a kid. “Not all mothers really are. Mine sure wasn't. I came along as a surprise nearly ten years after my sister, and fourteen after my brother, and everyone was pissed off all my life. They never should have had me.”

  “I'm glad they did,” she said softly as he stood next to her. “I would have been really sad if they didn't.” She smiled up at him.

  “Thank you,” he said softly, and then leaned down and kissed her. And then he suggested they take a hot tub together. He had a brand-new bathing suit for her to wear, in exactly the right size. He had a stack of them in the closet, and told her to pick one she liked. It really was the perfect, fully equipped bachelor pad. If he hadn't been as honest with her, it would have bothered her, but since he had, there were no hidden agendas and no secrets between them.

  She put on the bathing suit and got into the hot tub, and a minute later he came out in his bathing suit and got in with her. They sat there talking and kissing for a long time, and then they took their bathing suits off, as night fell over New York, on a warm October night. They lay together side by side for a long time, and then he wrapped her in a towel and carried her inside. He laid her on his bed, and then unwrapped her like a gift. She looked exquisite as she lay there on his bed. He had never seen a body as beautiful as that in his life. He had even been startled to realize she was a natural blonde. There was nothing fake about Maggie O'Malley. Every inch of her was real.

  He made love to her, and they were both surprised at how perfectly they fit, how much they enjoyed each other, and even laughed or said something silly from time to time. She was totally comfortable with him. Afterward, they lay side by side on his bed, and then went back to the hot tub again. She said it was the best night of her life, which was easy to believe. She'd had such a hard life until then, and still did. It was more than a little surreal for her, knowing that she would be going back to her tenement and her job, that nothing in her existence would change, but in her moments with him, she shared a life she had never even imagined before. He knew it was going to be interesting and challenging for her, if they continued seeing each other, while she went back and forth between two worlds.