by Nina Lane
“And so I sign the damned thing and get stuck with her for the next two or three years.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“You put a tape recorder in your office and record the conversation, get her to implicate herself, then take the recording to the OJA and your department chair.”
“Seriously? Isn’t that illegal?”
Helen shrugs. “She’s making a false claim. That’s illegal too, I assume. Or at least against university rules. Why shouldn’t you play dirty too?”
“Not the right kind of dirty,” I mutter.
Helen shakes her head with amusement. “My guess is it won’t matter if it’s illegal or not, because once the hussy finds out what you did, she won’t make a formal accusation and you’ll be in the clear.”
“You’ll bet dimes to doughnuts on that?”
“I’ll bet my sweet bippy on that.”
“What the hell is a… never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”
Helen grins and moves away from the desk. I let out a long breath. The tightness in my chest is gone. Now there’s even a faint ray of hope.
Helen helps me clean up the mess from the floor. We put everything back on the desk. She vacuums the shattered glass and throws away the broken lamp.
“I’ll run downtown and pick up another one before your mother notices it’s missing,” she says, winding up the vacuum cleaner cord.
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
I reach out to capture her wrist. “I mean it, Helen. Thanks. And I’m sorry for what I—”
“Yeah, you were a melodramatic asshole the other day, but in a way I can appreciate it. Nice for Liv that you’d say those things about her.” She pats my arm. “And I’ve been snarky too, I know. Keep me posted, okay?”
“I will.”
We leave the library just as Liv is coming in from the terrace.
“I was going to make some tea or coffee,” she says. “Do you want some?”
“No, thanks,” Helen replies. “I’m going to run some errands.”
“I’ll walk you out.” I fall into step beside Helen as she goes to the front door. I lower my voice. “Liv doesn’t know yet. I’m going to tell her when I get back.”
Helen’s eyebrows lift, but she nods. “Okay. My lips are sealed.”
“Wow. A phrase I understand.”
“I dumbed it down for you.”
With that, she heads toward her car.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
OLIVIA
JANUARY 27
elen offers to drive Dean to the airport, which is fine with me since I’m not familiar with San Jose roads, and the freeways are busy and a little scary. Instead I agree to go with Joanna and Paige to the hospital again, so Dean and I part ways in the foyer.
“Love you, beauty.” He hugs me and gives my belly a discreet pat. “I’ll call as soon as I get in, okay?”
I nod. Even though he’ll be gone for less than three days, I wish he didn’t have to go at all. I’m not concerned about being alone with his family, as things have been easier than they were the last time I was here, but I don’t want to be apart from my husband these days.
I press my mouth to his, aware of Helen waiting nearby, then step out of his embrace. “Be safe.”
It’s weird that the history department is making him return for one meeting. You’d think they could either wait or let him teleconference via computer or speaker phone. I hope they’re paying for the plane ticket, at least.
I watch from the front doorstep as they get into Helen’s car and leave, then I go back upstairs to straighten up our bedroom. There’s a note on the mirror:
I smile and put the note on Dean’s pillow so it’ll be there when I go to bed tonight. I return downstairs and, with Joanna’s permission, I use the computer in the library to check my email.
There’s a message from Kelsey asking how things are going and assuring me that all my houseplants are still alive. I tell her about Richard West’s successful surgery and that Dean is on his way back to Mirror Lake for a couple of days.
Then I surf a few pregnancy-related websites, avoiding the When It’s an Emergency links and focusing on the stages of pregnancy, information about ultrasounds, and articles about sex and pregnancy.
Out of curiosity, I click on a link that has illustrations of the most comfortable positions for sex during pregnancy.
Straddle your partner. Okay.
Lie side by side. We can do that.
Get on your knees and support yourself with your elbows while your partner enters you from behind.
I definitely want to try that.
“Oh, sorry.”
I look up with a start to find Paige coming into the library. I quickly fumble to click on another link and hide the pregnant sex website.
“Hi, Paige.”
Good Lord. I hope she didn’t see what I was looking at.
“We’re leaving in fifteen minutes, if you want to go with us,” she tells me.
“Sure. Just checking my email.” I smile brightly.
Paige shrugs and leaves. Just to ensure I wasn’t lying, I log in to my email again. There’s a message from Kelsey:
He’s coming back for one meeting? WTF?
It’s an important meeting, from what Dean said, but Kelsey’s reaction renews my own confusion. It really doesn’t make a lot of sense.
I wonder if the meeting has something to do with Dean’s job or the international conference he’s planning. He’s only been on the King’s University faculty for two years. While the board courted him and offered him a top-level salary, and so far has given him everything he’s asked for in terms of funding, he doesn’t yet have tenure.
Maybe that’s it! Maybe they’re planning to offer him early tenure.
Dean has half a dozen grad students under his advisement, he’s earned an incredible reputation over a very short time, he has numerous publications, and he’s brought a lot of attention to the university and the new Medieval Studies program. The conference will surely cement his reputation, along with his book that’s being published in the fall and the IHR grant…
That has to be it. And he didn’t want to tell me because he wants it to be a surprise.
An unexpected burst of excitement floods me. If Dean is offered tenure, then his professorship is permanent. We really will be in Mirror Lake for the foreseeable future.
Rather than feeling uncertain about the idea, I’m filled with anticipation. I want to stay in Mirror Lake. Finally now I realize how much that town has become home to me in the past two years.
I want to raise our child there, watch him or her attend school, swim in the lake, eat ice cream on Avalon Street, play in Wizard’s Park, bike along all the back roads. I have friends in Mirror Lake, good friends, and even though I don’t have a career, I have a bookstore job and volunteer work that I love.
I can give our child the stable, secure life and the home I never had.
The very idea, its newfound reality, alleviates much of my previous unease. I grab my purse and hurry out to join Joanna and Paige for the trip to the hospital.
I already can’t wait for Dean to get back.
“How was your day?”
His voice is a low rumble. Warmed by the sound, I press my ear to the phone and sit on the edge of the bed.
“Fine. I went with Paige and your mom to visit your dad, who is complaining about the food. I think he’s ready to come home. They’re keeping an eye on that swelling he had in the heart valve, but the doctor says he should be okay for a release on Thursday. How were your flights?”
“Second leg was delayed because of ice in Chicago.”
“I forgot it’s still winter in the Midwest.”
“Ten degrees right now. Roads are slick, too.”
“Are you at home?”
“Just got in a little while ago. Did you get my note?”
“It’s lovely, but why did you draw a volcano?”
“Smartass,” he mutters.
I smile. “Pie love you too, professor. With ice cream.”
“Uh huh.”
“How’s everything in the apartment?” I ask.
“Fine. Kelsey has kept your plants alive.”
“That’s what she told me. She seemed quite proud.”
“You talked to her?”
“Emailed her. I told her you were coming in for a couple of days. She doesn’t get why you had to fly all the way back for one meeting.”
He’s silent for a minute. I can’t help smiling. I won’t pry anymore so I don’t ruin the surprise.
“You should try and see her while you’re there,” I suggest.
“Uh, yeah. I’ll give her a call.” He clears his throat. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
“I thought I’d go downtown, look at a few baby boutiques.”
“Oh.”
“I’m kind of excited now,” I admit. “Since everything’s okay with your father and we’ll be back in Mirror Lake soon. You know that ice cream parlor down by the beach, the one with the checkerboard floor and soda fountain? Did you know it’s attached to a toy store?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“It’s every kid’s dream. You have ice cream, then you go shop for toys. Probably drives the parents crazy, but what a treat for a kid.”
“Sure sounds like it.”
“Anyway.” I try to temper my enthusiasm a little. “I was just looking up pregnancy stuff on the Internet. Thought I’d see what kind of things we’re going to need beyond diapers.”
“Good idea.”
He sounds muted. Must be tired and stressed from three flights, plus delays, and then a long drive from the airport over icy roads.
I flop back onto the bed. Maybe I can help him relax before he goes to sleep. A tingle of anticipation rolls through me.
“So I also looked up sex and pregnancy,” I remark.
“Yeah?”
“You know, for when I’m bigger. I was wondering how we’d manage it.”
“How will we?”
“The website recommended several positions.”
“Which are?” He sounds more alert now.
“Me on top.”
“A good one.”
“Facing each other side by side.”
“Nice.”
“Me on my hands and knees with you fucking me from behind.”
His breath hisses out. I smile.
“I thought that sounded… promising,” I say.
“Sounds more than promising.”
“Are you in bed?” I ask.
“On the sofa.”
“Wearing?”
“Flannel pants. T-shirt.”
“You never wear a shirt to bed.”
“Because you keep me warm. It’s ten degrees here.”
“Will you take it off now?” I ask.
“Why?”
I sigh. “So I can picture you sitting bare-chested on the sofa in our living room.”
“Hold on.” There’s a rustling noise before he comes back on the line. “Shirt’s off.”
“Good.”
“Your turn.”
I look down at my nightgown. “If I take off my nightgown, I’ll be completely naked.”
“Good.”
“Hold on.” I put the phone down and shuck my gown over my head. Then, as a precaution, I make sure the bedroom door is locked before I return to lie down on the bed. “Okay.”
“You’re naked?”
“Uh huh. Oh, except for my underwear. They’re a little tight. I think my butt is getting bigger too.”
“More for me to squeeze.”
“Really? You’re okay with me, you know… growing?”
“You just mentioned a bigger ass, and I’m already hard.”
Arousal jolts me. “You are?”
“Now I’m picturing your breasts, then you bending over to show me your nice, plump ass… and I’m about to come.”
I laugh. “And here I thought I’d have to work a little to relax you.”
“Oh, you can work me.” He pauses. “Are your nipples hard?”
“Yes.” I shift to one elbow. My breasts roll to the side, stiff-peaked, and the cotton of my panties is getting damp between my legs. I run a hand over my belly, across my sensitized nipples. “Speaking of bending over, do you remember that time we did it on the balcony?”
“How could I forget?”
“What floor was it?”
“Seventeenth.”
About a year into our marriage, I’d gone with Dean to Southern California for a medieval studies conference, which was held at a hotel in West LA. He’d been assigned a room with a private balcony. The view was spectacular—the hazy sky arched wide over the urban sprawl of Los Angeles, the spires of Century City jutting upward in the distance. Lines of traffic snaked over the streets, looking like toy cars from the high vantage point.
While Dean went to presentations about medieval stuff, I visited some LA tourist traps and museums. One evening I got back to the hotel before he did, tired and sweaty from a day of touring Hollywood Boulevard and the LA County Museum of Art. After a quick shower, I dressed in a white sundress and went to sit on the balcony, leaving the sliding glass door open.
I had some vague notion of seducing my husband, but actually doing it on the balcony didn’t occur to me.
Until he walked in, all tired and rumpled from discussing feudal customs and city topography. He dropped a distracted kiss on my forehead, muttered something about a banquet dinner, and went to shower.
My poor, hardworking, medievalist husband.
I put my feet up on the balcony railing. Hot air brushed against me, rippling the hotel curtains. My hair was loose, disheveled. I wasn’t wearing panties. Or a bra, for that matter.
I turned when he emerged from the bathroom, bare-chested and wearing boxers, his skin beaded with water. He lifted his arms to scrub at his wet hair with a towel, his muscles flexing beautifully with the movement.
“How were the presentations?” I asked.
“Some really good ones, especially the session about Florentine politics.”
Of course.
“Interesting,” I remarked. The wind was brushing against my bare sex, eliciting rather delightful tingles. I spread my legs a little. “When does the banquet dinner start?”
“Half an hour. Spouses are invited.” He rubbed the towel over his chest. “Sort of formal, though.”
“Oh. No sundress, then.”
“I guess not.”
“What about underwear?”
He stopped, jerking his gaze to me. “Uh… what?”
I plucked at my skirt. “Can’t wear a sundress. But I’ll probably have to put on some underwear.”
“You’re not wearing any?”
“No.” I swung my legs off the railing and turned toward him, parting my legs enough to give him a little peek of my nakedness. “Guess I should get dressed properly, then.”
His eyes narrowed, even as his breathing began to increase. “What’re you doing?”
“Nothing.” I looked at him, blinking with innocence. “Just hoped you’d want to fuck me on the balcony before dinner.”
A thrill raced through me when he threw down the towel and stalked toward me, all sudden heat and dark glower.
“You’d better know what you’re asking for, Mrs. West,” he growled.
I didn’t exactly (the balcony?), but my heart pounded with excitement when he grabbed me around the waist and pulled me in for a deep kiss. The air lit with a fevered intensity, a sensation I loved as much I loved the slow burn of our more leisurely lovemaking. The fact that I could do this with one spread of my legs—turn him from a tired academic into a hard, intense hunk—was a heady power.
Dean pushed his tongue into my mouth, his chest rock-solid against mine, his skin still damp and soap-scented. He latched a hand to the back of my neck, deepening the kiss as I wound my arms around him.
He gr
asped the folds of my dress and pulled it up over my legs, his erection already poking against my abdomen, his muscles cording. Air gusted against my naked bottom. I shivered.
“Wait,” I gasped. “Are… are you sure no one can see us?”
He laughed, sliding his big hands around to my ass. “Too late to worry about that now.”
The very idea that someone could be watching us made my pulse leap. Dean reached between us to pull his cock out of his boxers. I moaned aloud at the sight of the rigid shaft, all taut skin and pulsing veins. I took him in my hand and rubbed, cupping my fingers so he could thrust into the vise of my fist.
Another gust of wind whipped my hair around my face, blew my dress up higher. Dean pressed his hand between my legs, his breath hot against my forehead. He moved away from me to go back into the room, returning with a condom packet.
“Now turn around.” It was an order, guttural and deep.
I sucked in a breath and turned. Sweat trickled between my breasts. I started to quiver with a combination of excitement and nerves. Dean put his hands on my hips and gently pushed me farther out onto the balcony. Then he reached around to take my wrists and guided my hands to the railing.
“Hold on, beauty,” Dean whispered, closing his teeth around my earlobe. “It’s going to be a helluva ride.”
A shudder rocked me from head to toe. I gripped the metal railing, my palms damp with sweat. A plane swooped overhead, the engine a dull roar in my ears. A streak of sunlight burned my neck.
Dean pulled my dress up to my waist, baring me completely to the wind and his gaze.
“Fucking beautiful,” he muttered.
He pushed his thigh between my legs, spreading me farther apart. Shivers rained down my spine. My belly coiled with tension. He drew one finger down the crack of my ass and into my sex, his touch a light teasing that ratcheted up my frustration. After his powerful, sexy grabbing of me, I was ready to be completely taken.
“You want more?” he asked, running the tip of his finger around my clit.
