Working on a Full House

by Alyssa Kress

  Valerie flipped on the lights in the kitchen and walked over to set her purse and jacket on the counter near the phone. She was trying her damnedest to ignore the prickling and act normal, as if they were still merely the friends they'd become over the telephone, as if nothing had happened in between: Roy's declaration he wanted to sleep with her, her refusal, or his utterly incomprehensible behavior since.

  Although it might be comprehensible, if Valerie allowed herself to fantasize...

  She turned with another bland smile. "Well! That didn't go so bad, did it?"

  "No." Roy's tone matched his face: unreadable.

  "So." Valerie tried to halt her wayward thoughts, but they wouldn't halt. Maybe Roy's gaze wasn't so unreadable. Maybe Valerie could read through him...if she let herself.

  "You hadn't told Cherise very much about me," Roy remarked.

  "Well...no." Valerie bit her lower lip. "Cherise has a way of — Well, she likes to tell me what to do."

  "And she would have told you to have me take a hike."

  "Uh...probably."

  Roy's impassive expression broke long enough for something unexpected: a smile. Valerie blinked at that, and thought she heard him mutter, "Well, that's something, anyway."

  What was something? she longed to ask. That I wouldn't have told you to take a hike? You cared? But she didn't dare say anything like that.

  "Ahem. I should check your refrigerator." Roy turned aside. "See what I need to get you tomorrow."

  "You know, you don't have to do that. I can buy my own groceries."

  "We've been over this before." Roy opened Valerie's refrigerator. He frowned as he looked inside. "Gee, you used up a lot of stuff since I was last here."

  "Well, like I said, I have been getting hungry." Valerie could feel her face turn red. The truth was, she hadn't been able to button the top of her pants that morning. She'd noted the fact with a combination of dismay and wonder.

  "That's good." Roy looked over the open refrigerator door toward her. "I'd feel better if you started to gain weight."

  "Don't worry, I will." She suspected she already had, but wasn't up to sharing such an unflattering detail with him.

  Roy seemed to guess anyway, his lips quirking as he closed the refrigerator door. "You'd better make a list for me. Now that you don't have morning sickness, I have no idea what you want."

  The words, completely innocent and coming out of a moment that had turned almost easy, nevertheless hung in the air. What did she want?

  Roy turned and their eyes met. The answer to his question zinged through Valerie like an arrow from a bow.

  Him. That's what she wanted.

  In that moment she wanted Roy so much it made her throat ache.

  Roy's lashes lowered an infinitesimal amount. It was a tiny movement, but Valerie felt it like a thunderclap.

  He wanted her, too.

  The air seemed supercharged between them. Thick. Hot. Heavy.

  "I..." He swallowed visibly. "I should probably go, uh, leave you alone now."

  He should? Valerie thought he should probably grab her and tell her how much he loved her so they could resolve this thing. Or at least, that's what she wished he would do.

  "Ahem." He shifted weight. But instead of stepping away, toward the guest suite, he stepped forward, toward her.

  Valerie's heart took flight. She stepped toward him. They met somewhere near the stove.

  "Oh, boy." He released a gusty breath as his palms cupped her shoulders. "I promised I wasn't going to do this, didn't I?"

  "All — all you're doing is holding me. I don't remember any promise about that."

  "Right." His jaw tightened. "I didn't make any promise about that. Or...about this." He lowered his mouth to hers.

  Rich heat slid through her. This, oh this at last, she thought, winding her arms about his neck. With his lips moving eagerly on hers and his body pressed close it was a luxury of relief.

  "Roy, Roy, Roy." Her mouth moved from his to caress his cheek, the edge of his jaw. Her tongue flicked out to taste the salty stubble of his beard.

  His breath came out on a hiss. "You have no idea..."

  "I do. Oh, I do."

  "No, you don't." He took her mouth again, deeply, passionately, as if to prove his point. Valerie moaned as his tongue swept vigorously into her mouth.

  Feeling like she was in a free-fall, she clung to him.

  "We really shouldn't be doing this," Roy said, lifting his lips from her mouth. Nevertheless, he put a big warm hand over her left breast.

  Valerie nearly came out of her skin. Whether it was what Roy'd said, the grim tone in which he'd uttered the words, or the extraordinary sensitivity pregnancy had lent her breasts, she was suddenly bumped out of the magic zone.

  What was she doing? What kind of insanity was she taking part in here? They were kissing, they were going to end up in bed — and not even Mr. Uncomplicated Sex Roy thought they should?

  A choked sound came out of her throat. She brought her arms down, thus dislodging Roy's hand from her breast. She could feel the reaction in him, a suppressed jolt, as he came out of the zone, too.

  For a moment they stood there, breathing heavily, still in each other's arms but no longer easy about it.

  "I'm sorry," Roy said at last.

  "It wasn't your fault," Valerie replied.

  Slowly, as if the process caused pain, Roy eased her from her position plastered against his front.

  Valerie looked up. Their eyes met, agonizedly.

  "Valerie, you're so — You have no idea how much I — " Roy broke off and shook his head. "But you're right. This kind of thing isn't a good idea for us."

  Valerie felt her heart turn to stone in her chest. It would be a good idea. It could be an oh-so-beautifully good idea if only he would say the necessary words.

  I love you.

  Swallowing, she took a step back. "Right. Yes. We both got a bit carried away, didn't we?" She summoned up a bright smile. "But...no harm done."

  "Exactly. No harm done." Even as he said it, though, a streak of pain flashed across Roy's expression.

  Pain? Valerie stilled as Roy then opened his mouth — about to say something? The moment thinned and stretched, like a fragile bubble.

  "Ahem." A mask dropped over his face. "I'll...just go now, and let you...well, whatever."

  "Right. Okay." Valerie cleared her throat. He wasn't going to confess undying love for her — if, indeed, he actually felt any such thing.

  Roy backed toward the guest suite. "Goodnight."

  "Right," Valerie said. "Goodnight."

  "So. Ahem. I'll see you tomorrow?"

  "Oh, yes," Valerie replied. "No doubt we'll run into each other again tomorrow." But would she learn anything more about his true feelings tomorrow?

  Or ever?

  He gave her one last, unreadable look, before turning and walking into his bedroom.

  Valerie swiveled on wooden feet. She walked up the stairs to her own bedroom, still wondering, still frustrated, and still tingling in every inch of her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Kenny had no idea what he was doing here. Normally he avoided Dr. Isaac Franck's office at the university like he would avoid a root canal. Isaac's office, his private, dusty haunt with the ancient languages on the spines of the books and the prehistoric artifacts crowding the floor, was a place of nearly mystical power. And Isaac was powerful enough, Kenny thought, without any help.

  Yet restless, on edge, Kenny had come all the way over here and was now trying his best to pace in the small space available before the one, cloudy window. He'd been on edge, he admitted, ever since leaving Cherise's art studio nearly a week ago. Or perhaps, ever since escaping Cherise's art studio was a better way of putting it.

  Kenny still couldn't decide if fleeing had been an act of wisdom or of cowardice. Not that he wanted Isaac to clear up the mystery for him.

  So Kenny prowled, with absolutely nothing to say. He was nose to glass with the tiny
window, once again, when Isaac leaned back in the ancient chair behind his desk. With a slight smile, Isaac steepled his fingers over his middle. "How did the game go last night?" he asked.

  "Busted out." Kenny snorted. "With a pair of queens." He'd been certain the other guy only had ace-king suited.

  "I don't need to ask how much was involved." Isaac's small smile twitched. "I can see by your face."

  Kenny grimaced. Was he letting it show? He shouldn't. Easy come, easy go, right? So what if he had to sell the Ferrari? That sort of thing never bothered Kenny.

  But it bothered him tonight, he admitted, peering through the dingy glass of Isaac's window. Tonight having to sell his car stung. Because tonight he could imagine Cherise's reaction.

  "Why should that make a difference?" Kenny muttered.

  "Excuse me?" Isaac asked.

  "Nothing." Kenny turned to face him. Easy come, easy go. Fun and games. That's who he was. "You know that Roy's gone to Palmwood again, to see his wife?"

  Isaac's smile widened infinitesimally. "Are you tattling?"

  Was he? Kenny leaned a hip against the window frame. Did he want Isaac to scoff at the chances of Roy staying married? "Hell, maybe Roy will actually make a go of his marriage. Maybe it's just me who's not cut out for it." Kenny's breath stopped. Had he just admitted something that intimate? To Isaac?"

  But instead of leaping on the information, Isaac let his smile fade into vagueness. His gaze shifted to the pile of handwritten papers sitting on his desk. "You don't think you're cut out for marriage?" he asked, as if he was only half thinking about what he was saying.

  Kenny blew out a breath. "Three marriages and three divorces sorta argue against it, don't you think?"

  Isaac reached to rub the corner of the paper on top of the pile between his fingers. "Do you blame yourself for the failure of each of your marriages?"

  Kenny stared at Isaac's fingers rubbing the corner of the paper. Oddly, he'd never asked himself the question. Did he blame himself?

  He thought of his first wife, Darla, the temperamental actress. Their marriage had been one dramatic fight after another, often involving flying objects. Then there'd been Rita. She'd been Kenny's 'project.' He'd actually imagined he could wean her from all the pills she popped to fight her persistent depression. Finally, Cloris, fifteen years his senior, a woman whose indomitable personality had bowled Kenny over, then nearly swamped him.

  "I suppose it didn't help I picked difficult women," Kenny admitted. "Particularly Cloris." He shuddered. "No, I won't take responsibility for that divorce." Cloris had been an utter control freak, wanting to dictate everything, down to what bets Kenny should make. But the others...?

  Kenny watched as Isaac drew the top paper toward himself. It was hardly as if he were listening to Kenny at all.

  "No, it's true I didn't make very good choices," Kenny now told Isaac, who was uncapping a red pen. It was easy to be honest, since Isaac wasn't paying attention. "But even so, I'm probably not easy to live with. Never got the hang of the consistent partnership thing."

  Isaac made a humming noise and looked down at the handwritten paper.

  "I'm easy come, easy go," Kenny went on. "Fun and games. Unsuited for the long-term commitment deal."

  Humming some more, Isaac made a red mark on the paper, a missing comma apparently.

  Nope, he wasn't listening at all. Kenny felt himself relax. "So it would be ridiculous to consider getting married again. But, see, there is this woman. Actually, she's a friend of Roy's wife." Kenny was telling Isaac precisely what he'd sworn he wouldn't divulge, but heck, the guy wasn't even listening. "Anyway, Cherise is..."

  How to describe Cherise? She, also, was difficult, no doubt about it. Temperamental, high maintenance, demanding. But those paintings... Kenny closed his eyes as he remembered her paintings, set about the room like emotional explosives. Such power, such feeling. As he'd stood there looking at them all, he simply hadn't been able to pretend he didn't see that, couldn't respond.

  Kenny opened his eyes and sighed. "She's trouble." After he'd arranged her paintings, showing his response to them, he'd turned and seen Cherise's surprise. Her surprise and her...yearning. He'd known without asking that she'd never shown her paintings to anyone before; she'd never gotten the emotional feedback her spirit had obviously desired.

  That's when Kenny'd had to run. He hadn't been able to deal with it: her power, his own — the immense seriousness of it all.

  "Trouble," Isaac mumbled, as if trying to assure Kenny he was still listening, when he obviously wasn't. He was writing a whole paragraph in red in the margin of the handwritten paper.

  "She's almost my exact opposite," Kenny said, speaking to Isaac's deaf ears. "Responsible, organized, got all her ducks in a row. Oh, you oughta see her refrigerator." Kenny had to smile, remembering Cherise's rigorously organized refrigerator.

  Isaac, meanwhile, kept writing in red.

  Kenny's smile turned into a sigh. "I'd drive her nuts. If we were to live together or anything like that. I'd drive her nuts in about ten minutes. And...she'd probably drive me nuts, too." Though Kenny couldn't think right then of how. He liked Cherise's super organization.

  "So, that's the story," Kenny said. "You don't even need to talk me out of getting foolish on this one." Although it was occurring to Kenny that maybe this was why he'd showed up at Isaac's office, after all, to get talked out of doing something foolish regarding Cherise.

  Isaac reached across his desk to draw the next handwritten paper on the pile in front of himself.

  "So I'm not going to get into anything serious with her," Kenny decided staunchly. "Because I don't do serious. And if she thinks otherwise, then — then — maybe we ought not to see each other any more." He felt a dull, lowering sensation, even though he was only telling himself exactly what Isaac would be telling him, however indirectly, if he weren't so distracted making red marks on his new paper. And Isaac was always right about such things.

  "So I'll be at the Bellagio tournament Friday night, then," Kenny told Isaac, who couldn't possibly care as he never played tournaments during the Jewish Sabbath. "Neither Cherise nor I mentioned anything about seeing each other this Friday — or ever again." They hadn't had time, Kenny had run so fast. "So I can be at the Bellagio on Friday night," Kenny repeated.

  Isaac finally looked up from the paper he was marking. His pale blue eyes smiled faintly at Kenny. "You'll be playing the tournament at the Bellagio on Friday night," he now repeated, "instead of driving to Palmwood to see this woman, Cherise."

  Something tight in Kenny's chest made it hard to breathe. "That's right."

  Isaac held his gaze. "Of course it's up to you, Kenny."

  The bottom dropped out of Kenny's stomach. It was up to him? No! It was up to fate. It was up to how the world had made him, how it had made Cherise. Kenny couldn't buck fate.

  Kenny's eyes narrowed as he finally realized something. "You've been listening," he accused. "You've been listening all along."

  "I always listen to you, Kenny," Isaac replied mildly.

  Kenny's teeth ground together. "You think I should try. You think I should do my best to make a go of this relationship, that I shouldn't give up."

  "Did I say that?" Isaac looked surprised.

  No, no of course he hadn't said that. He hadn't needed to. Just as he hadn't needed to appear like he was listening. Dr. Isaac Franck had out-played Kenny once again. Would he never learn?

  "I am not driving to Palmwood tomorrow," Kenny declared. "Not all of your tricks could convince me."

  Isaac looked back down at the paper in front of him. "No, Kenny." A faint smile curved his lips. "I'm sure I couldn't convince you of anything at all."

  ~~~

  Roy didn't know what woke him up. Suddenly the bliss of unconsciousness was gone. It had taken him forever to fall asleep, too, after hours staring at the ceiling over Valerie's guest bed. Now, with every nerve howling, he was abruptly, painfully awake.

  "Damn," he m
uttered, as he peered into the gloom. His nerves were still humming from whatever stimulus had woken him — a bird outside, a creak of the house, or some already forgotten dream. But worse than the nerves, now he had to think again. To remember...

  How they'd kissed.

  Roy clenched his teeth. That had been no mere kiss. It had been — a threat to his sanity.

  And he hadn't even meant to do it! He'd been standing there telling himself to take it easy, to back up, and by all means not to touch her — but it had happened anyway. Lord, how he'd wanted to kiss her.

  Lord, how he'd needed to.

  The need, that's what had scared the living daylights out of him. How much he'd needed her.

  Roy drew in and let out a deep breath. His entire body tensed, just thinking about it. He'd never felt need for another human being. Never. Even all those weeks ago at the Paris Hotel, he hadn't needed Valerie. He'd been entranced by her, enthralled, bemused by the romantic possibilities — but he certainly hadn't needed her. He'd gone on with his life. Oh, sure, the memories might have nagged him, but he could have continued on perfectly well without her.

  But the place he'd somehow come to since then was a very different matter.

  As Roy's eyes adjusted to the dark, he could pick out the details of the room: the crocheted afghan lying over the back of an easy chair, a Chinese vase filled with dried flowers on an oak dresser, all the thoughtful, little details...

  He felt his chest squeeze. If all this was taken from him he didn't know if he could go on. He'd let himself...enjoy it all too much, let himself indulge as if the tender love and care were all going to belong to him, signed, sealed, and delivered, no questions asked, forever and ever.

  But okay, okay. Roy made a concerted effort to relax. Yes, he'd been weak. Yes, he'd nearly given in to his weakness earlier tonight, but the important thing was he hadn't. He'd stopped. He hadn't spilled any of his awful need. Valerie didn't know.

  That had to make it okay, that she didn't know.

  Right?

  A sound from the direction of the kitchen just outside his bedroom door made him go still. Adrenaline poured through his veins as he half rose from the bed. Then came another sound, more distinct, a noise very like a teakettle hitting one of the burners on the stove.