HOT AND BOTHERED

by Jo Leigh

  "Okay. We're on for lunch tomorrow?"

  "Yeah."

  * * *

  Trevor clicked the mute button on his TV remote when the phone rang. It might be Lee. On the other hand, it might be Ben. On the fifth ring, he picked up. "Hello?"

  "Hey, Trevor. How's it going?"

  He breathed a small sigh of relief, and settled back in his big chair. "Ben, let me ask you something."

  "Okay."

  "Are women completely nuts?"

  "Yes, Trevor. They are. Just breathe deeply, and let it go. There's nothing you can do about it."

  "Okay. I just wanted to make sure."

  "Anything specific?"

  Trevor debated telling Ben the truth. But Lee was going to tell Katy, so what the hell was he worried about? By tomorrow morning Katy, Ben, Susan and Peter would know everything, right down to what he ate for dinner. Maybe Ben already knew.

  "Lee," Trevor said, finally.

  "So she really did it, eh? Hey, hold on a minute. The pizza's here."

  Trevor groaned. It never changed. Ever since college, the six of them had been like this. Susan itched, Peter scratched. Their lives were so enmeshed that it was a wonder any of them could tie their shoelaces by themselves. Although he and Lee had always been tight, Trevor also felt a close bond to Ben. The only other native Californian, he'd been just as bewildered by New York as Trevor had been when they first got to college. Ben and he had been roommates in the beginning, until Ben had married Katy.

  Trevor always smiled when he thought of their wedding. City hall, everyone dressed in jeans, including the bride. He'd almost lost the ring, but found it in his wallet. Katy had cried the whole time, especially when Susan had shown up with a big bouquet of roses for Katy to hold.

  And now the friends had become a family of sorts. Trevor was closer to the five of them than he was to his own parents and siblings. It was Ben and Lee, in fact, who had encouraged him to push so hard for his job at the magazine. Being a wine critic at twenty-five was practically unheard of at the time, but his friends had supported him until he snagged the job. Of course, he still had a way to go until he was the main critic, but he didn't mind being second banana. At least, not yet.

  "I'm back," Ben said, although his voice was a little muffled from all the chewing. "So you were saying that she did it?"

  "She did it indeed." Trevor pulled himself back to the conversation. "When did you find out? You could have warned me, you know."

  "I didn't hear until tonight. I think Katy knew I would blow the whistle."

  "Katy is perceptive."

  "For what it's worth, she doesn't think it's such a good idea."

  "No?" Trevor's gaze went from the TV to his computer, and he cringed at the work he still had to do tonight. The article on the Merlots was due tomorrow, and his editor didn't have a good sense of humor about tardiness.

  "Nope," Ben said. "Not according to the self-help book du jour. Tomorrow, it could change though."

  "Hasn't the woman ever heard of fiction?"

  Ben laughed. "So, what did you decide to do?"

  "Nothing, I panicked."

  "I hear that."

  "I don't know." Trevor turned his head so he wouldn't have to look at his computer anymore. "It doesn't seem like a good idea to me, either. Except…"

  "What?"

  "It's Lee, for God's sake."

  "I know."

  "I've thought about it before," he admitted, wondering briefly if he should just keep his mouth shut.

  Ben chuckled. "You wouldn't have been human if you didn't. Personally, I don't know why you didn't jump on her in the dorms. You had your chance, you know."

  "I chose the high road."

  "You were a big, fat chicken who was so afraid of commitment, you'd hyperventilate if a woman asked you to spend the night."

  "That, too," Trevor admitted.

  "But honestly, the idea itself has some intriguing aspects."

  "For instance?"

  "A dream fulfilled. Completing the circle…"

  "Has Katy left one of her books in the bathroom?"

  "I'm not kidding, Trevor. You'd better think this through. It might be just what the doctor ordered. I mean when's the last time you took a big risk? Besides drinking red wine with fish? Face it, Trevor old boy. Sometimes you need to jump off the cliff, even if you don't know where you're going to land."

  Trevor got up, too unnerved to keep still. He walked to the kitchen, still carrying the phone, and got a beer from the fridge. "You and Katy were friends first."

  "True."

  "And you turned out great."

  "Also true. But we didn't try to switch horses midstream. We knew from day one we weren't going to stay just friends."

  "Maybe Lee and I are supposed to stay just friends." He headed back to his comfy chair, using his elbow to turn off the kitchen light.

  "I might have gotten this wrong, but isn't that what she wants? Just friends, with certain perks?"

  Trevor opened the beer, then took a big swig. "Yeah."

  "A minefield, my friend. But maybe one worth traversing."

  "Well, that's helpful."

  Again, Ben laughed. "Katy's on the other line. With Lee."

  "I figured."

  "So I'll see you Sunday?"

  "Yeah."

  "Trevor?"

  "Yep?"

  "Good luck."

  "I'm gonna need it." He hung up the phone and flopped into his chair again. CNN was on, but it was entertainment news. His gaze moved to the picture sitting on his set, right next to the cable box. It was the gang. He had his arm around Lee's shoulder.

  He leaned back and closed his eyes. It was far too easy to imagine her without her clothes on. In his bed. With those long fingers of hers trailing down his chest. Because he'd imagined it since the day they'd met.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  « ^ »

  Lee let Trevor jog ahead of her. Not because she was tired, but because she wanted to look at him. Ever since she'd come up with the idea of adding sex to the relationship, Trevor wasn't just Trevor anymore.

  She'd really gotten a jolt this morning when she'd arrived at his place for their Sunday morning run. They'd had the same Sunday agenda for years now. Jog at the park first, then back to his place for a quick shower, breakfast and a leisurely read through the New York Times. Lunch at the Broadway Diner with the gang followed. Overnight guests were allowed to come along, but most of the time it was just the six of them. Unless Trevor was traveling. Or Peter was in a play. But mostly, one Sunday was like the next. The routine was as comfortable as an old sweater. At least it used to be.

  But today, when he'd opened the door, her first thought had been about sex. It wasn't as if she'd never seen him in his jogging shorts before. Yet this morning, she'd been incredibly aware of his chest. It was a great chest. Broad in the shoulders, narrow at the waist. A nice sprinkling of dark hair for that masculine appeal. He didn't have a six-pack stomach, but he was lean and strong and muscled.

  Then she'd noticed his face. A face she'd thought was as familiar to her as her own. But something was different. Her perception had changed, although she really didn't understand why. Trevor had always been good-looking. But that wasn't what was important about him. He could have looked like a frog, and she'd still have loved him. Today, his looks had an impact that took her totally by surprise. It was as if she were seeing him for the first time.

  His dark hair, slightly wavy, long over the collar, fit him perfectly. She'd always admired his eyes. They were green, really green. A lot of people thought he wore colored lenses, but she knew better. Those big eyes of his were twenty-twenty. What she didn't understand was why she hadn't noticed his eyelashes before. They were ridiculously long for a man. She should have those lashes, not him.

  Then, of course, there was his mouth. His smile had always given her pleasure, but she'd never analyzed why. The guy had one of the top ten mouths she'd ever seen. Perfectly shaped lips
over even, white teeth. It was an incredibly kissable mouth. All these years, and she'd been oblivious. Well, except for the first year at NYU. She'd thought about his looks a lot back in college. But they never seemed to be available at the same time, so she'd forced herself not to think about him like that. By the time they were both free and clear, they'd already become friends. Now that she was thinking about him like that, it amazed her that it hadn't come up years ago. Okay, so his nose was a little crooked, and he had that scar on his right temple, but somehow that just added to his charm.

  All in all, he was a remarkable specimen. Who would have thought? Had she really taken him for granted all this time? No wonder he was asked out by all sorts of women. Smart, handsome, kind and funny, he was everything a person could want in a friend. And in a lover.

  "Hey, what's the matter?"

  She stumbled a little at Trevor's words. She'd been so lost in thought that she'd slowed down to a walk. He faced her now, hands on hips, concern furrowing his forehead. "You okay?"

  She nodded. "Just woolgathering."

  "Well, gather it later. I'd like to finish this run today."

  "Oh, keep your shirt on." She started jogging again, and in a second she was at his side, and they fell into their familiar rhythm.

  "What was that all about?" he asked.

  Lee debated telling him, but decided against it. How was she supposed to admit that she hadn't really looked at him for years? He'd be insulted, and he'd have every right. "Nothing," she said. "Just work."

  "Ah," he said. "And here I was, assuming you were lost in thought about me."

  "You? Why would I be thinking about you?"

  "Because I'm a complex man in a complex world."

  "Where'd you read that? Esquire?"

  "If you must know, it was a fortune cookie."

  "Ah."

  Trevor picked up the pace a bit, so talking took a back seat to breathing. It didn't take long for her thoughts to go right back to where she'd left off.

  Sleeping with Trevor. Seeing him naked. Touching. Kissing. Fondling.

  What if he made funny noises? Her last boyfriend had shouted, "Oh, mama," every time he climaxed. By the end, she'd wanted to stuff a sock in his mouth. Of course, she'd wanted to do that even when they weren't in bed. She was still annoyed with herself for staying with Carl so long. He was a first-class jerk, but she hadn't seen that until she'd been living with him for almost a year.

  She was grateful to him for one thing. He'd been the catalyst for the revelation that had changed her life. After their ugly breakup, she'd finally seen that she wasn't meant to be in a romantic relationship. She simply wasn't any good at it.

  In all other areas of her life, she was competent. She was successful at her job at the brokerage house, particularly with high-tech stock, she had great friendships, and she didn't have any terrible vices. Overall she was proud and content with the way things were. But love? Nope.

  She'd come to the conclusion that romantic love was a talent, like painting or having a good voice. Genetic, like blond hair or big feet. It wasn't her fault that she was completely inept. That she picked wildly inappropriate men. That she lost all her good sense as soon as her emotions got involved. It just was. Once she'd accepted that fact, life had fallen into place.

  The only problem was that she missed sex … which led her right back to Trevor.

  If she couldn't feel safe having sex with Trevor, then something was seriously wrong with the world. He would never hurt her. He would always be considerate. She trusted him completely. And she knew that he was utterly, unalterably anti-marriage. He'd told her that many times. His position was fixed, and he had never wavered. Perfect.

  So, why was she still so hesitant?

  They reached the last turn, and slowed down to a walk. Trevor was a stickler for stretching and cooling, and although she was impatient with the last fifteen minutes, she dutifully went through the paces. More to please him than because she believed it was necessary for her body.

  As she watched him sit on the grass and bend low over his right leg, she wondered if she should quit all this pondering and get down to business. The only way to find out if this was going to work was to do it. They were going back to his apartment in a moment. He always let her have the first shower.

  She sat down next to him and spread her legs. Bending over, grabbing her right foot and easing into the stretch, she made up her mind. When it was time to take her shower, she was going to invite him to join her.

  * * *

  Trevor was officially worried. Ever since their conversation the other night, he'd been obsessed with the idea of having sex with Lee. Being with her this morning had not improved the situation. On the contrary, he'd barely been able to run. He kept imagining all sorts of things. Sexy things. Dangerous things. It occurred to him that he'd probably been having these X-rated thoughts about Lee for years, but because there was no point, he'd repressed them. Now that the door had been opened, even just that little crack, his imagination was running wild.

  Which, he figured, wasn't exactly what Lee had in mind. She was probably thinking that sex between them would be very polite and civilized.

  Now that they were nearly back at his apartment, the severity of his problem was becoming obvious. It was difficult to be subtle in these damn shorts. But every time he tried to think of something safe, baseball scores or his stock portfolio, he'd wind up picturing her in his shower. Wonderful. They hadn't even done anything yet, and he was out of control. God forbid she should bring up the subject. He'd never be able to face her again.

  Why had she come up with this stupid idea anyway? Didn't she realize she'd be opening Pandora's box? That once the concept was planted, it couldn't be unplanted? Well, he wouldn't go down without a fight. He valued her friendship too much. But the sex thing, that wasn't going to happen. It couldn't. He couldn't take it.

  "Are you going to open the door sometime soon?"

  He jerked out of his thoughts, and realized he'd been standing still, staring at his front door for who knows how long. His key was out, and he slipped it in the lock. Lee walked in first.

  He, of course, had to check out her rear end. For the fiftieth time this morning. Nothing had changed. It was the same bottom he'd seen the first time. But that didn't seem to matter. He had to look. To admire. To sigh.

  "What?" She turned to him, standing there all flushed and tousled and beautiful. Her breasts rising and falling, making it hard not to stare at her like some Central Park pervert. He forced his gaze down her long, lean body, but that only made things worse. He sighed again.

  "Trevor?"

  "It's nothing."

  "Sighing like that usually means you've heard from your mother."

  He shook his head. "Nope." He wasn't about to admit what he'd been thinking about. Time for a distraction. "I'll go put on the coffee. You get in the shower."

  She hesitated. He didn't. He walked quickly to the safety of the kitchen, where his lower body was hidden behind the counter. That way, no matter what she said, he'd maintain a little dignity.

  "Um, Trevor?"

  He got the coffee canister from the cupboard. "Yeah?"

  "About the shower."

  He knew just what she was going to say. She was going to ask him to join her. Oh, damn, what should he do? His body was screaming, "Yes, yes!" but was that wise? If she didn't stop looking at him that way, the wise vote was going to be trounced by the go-for-it vote.

  "I, uh … I…"

  "What?" He cringed. He hadn't meant to bark at her. She'd even jumped a little.

  "Nothing," she said.

  "Hey, I didn't mean to be so testy. It's just that…"

  "Yes?"

  "I'm just hot, is all."

  "Oh."

  Damn. Had he scared her off? Good. Well, sort of good. It was too easy to imagine himself raising her arms, taking hold of the bottom of her T-shirt, pulling it slowly up past her stomach, then her breasts. Lingering for a moment to admire, t
o picture what lay beneath the bra, then moving his hands once more until the shirt was off. Tossing it casually to the floor. Meeting her gaze. And then… Oh, God. This was Lee he was thinking about! Lee who'd nursed him through the breakup with Rebecca. Who'd seen him drunk, sick, stupid. The woman he could count on, no matter what. What the hell was he thinking?

  She must have been following the same trail of thoughts, because she turned and hurried toward the shower. He could have stopped her. All he'd have to do was say her name. But he didn't, and then she was gone.

  He looked down. He'd been scooping coffee into the pot. A lot of coffee. Shaking his head, he dumped the whole thing back into the canister and started again. This time he counted. When he was through, he filled the carafe with water, then turned the machine on. That's when he heard the shower start.

  This was impossible.

  He would have to talk to her. Tell her it was a crazy idea. It risked everything, and to what end?

  Moving to the living room, he took the newspaper out of its plastic bag and started to put it together the way they liked it. He got the news, the opinion section and the comics first. She got the sports section so she could catch up on her beloved Yankees, the financial section and the TV guide. The rest was up for grabs.

  He sat down with the front page, but kept it folded in his lap. The thing was, he knew her so well. How she got personally affronted when the Yankees lost. How she stirred her coffee an annoyingly long time when she was reading. The different sounds of her laughter. Yet there were still mysteries. What she looked like when she slept. He'd imagined her body, but that was just filling in the blanks with other images. She'd be completely unique. Completely beautiful.

  Dammit, was he a complete fool? How could he run from the chance that with Lee he could have everything? A companion, a friend, a lover. All without the inevitable ugliness that came along with marriage—at least, all the marriages he'd seen. He'd read about the perfectly happy couples who celebrated fifty, sixty years of wedded bliss. But in his experience, that was all myth. Except for Ben and Katy, but they were clearly from another planet, so they didn't count