by Jill Winters
"Billy? Hey, no kidding," Joe said, breaking into a smile and coming more alive. "How the hell is she? God, she was a great kid; I really liked that girl."
"I remember," Seth said, grinning. In fact, Joe used to act like a protective older brother with Billy, as if she needed to be protected—and from Seth.
"What's she doing these days?" Joe asked. "Still working at that company downtown?"
"No. Actually, she's working at a bakery now," Seth said, running his hand along his jaw, which was starting to feel bristly. "Decorating cakes."
"What?" Undoubtedly Joe was surprised because he'd always considered Billy particularly bright, artistic, and intelligent; if it were up to him, she'd be drawing aesthetically pleasing blueprints for NASA.
"She's between jobs right now," Seth explained. "I offered to try to help her, but she said no."
"Help her how?"
"Call some contacts," Seth replied. He still had quite a few in Boston.
"How is business, anyway?" Joe asked.
"Fine—shit, that reminds me! I was supposed to call Lucas and check what happened with the Dore account," Seth said, patting his pant pockets for his cell phone. Fuck, how could he have forgotten? Dore Research Institute was the firm's biggest client—Jesus, it was important.
No cell in his pocket. He'd forgotten that, too, and left it back at the house. Where was his brain today (besides in his cock)?
"Here you go," the waitress said, setting down their plates. The salty aroma of bacon cheeseburgers and golden-brown fries wafted through the air. Inexplicably more enticing than the takeout Seth charged to his company whenever he worked late. In the back of his mind, he sometimes wondered if his plaintive discontent was typical. Was it only natural to question the present order of things? And was the hollow ache he'd been feeling in his chest lately normal?
Maybe he was just more pensive these days because his thirty-second birthday was coming up in November. And even though he was happy for his brother, Ian, maybe hearing how much fuller and better his life was with his wife by his side made Seth feel even lonelier.
"Anyway, if you see Billy again, give her my best," Joe said, biting into his burger.
Seth nodded as his mind echoed the words, If I see her again. In that moment, he knew that he would. He would go to the Dessert Jubilee that weekend, which up until yesterday he'd had no intention of doing. The truth was, he felt almost tormented by the intense pull to see Billy again—to talk to her, just to get close to her. Even if it was only as friends, he wanted to know her again.
Of course, they hadn't been able to be friends back when he'd first moved to Seattle; Billy had said it was just too painful. But now, with so much time having passed, why not? True, she still aroused the hell out of him, but he could handle that... right?
Anyway, the past was water under the bridge; he didn't even know why he kept dwelling on it. He supposed it was because, unlike other relationships that were not great matches and so had played out to their natural end, he and Billy had never gotten the chance to find out what might have been between them.
"So is she married?" Joe asked now, breaking Seth's reverie.
Seth shrugged. "I didn't see a ring." Damn—he'd said too much.
Cocking a brow, Joe grinned. "So you looked for a ring, huh?"
Seth didn't bother defending himself. "Shut up."
Joe just laughed.
* * *
"Well... bye," Billy said softly, leaning up to kiss Mark on the mouth. He returned the gesture with a few moist lip presses before pulling back. She'd wanted to walk him out to steal a few more kisses, but now she wasn't quite sure why.
"Good night, cutie," he said with a smile. "Make sure you lock up." With a happy-go-lucky bounce in his step, he disappeared down her darkened street. Billy stood on the front steps of her brownstone, smiling after him—bemused and a little sleepy.
After they'd spent a couple (interminable) hours at the Kenmore Pub, they'd come back to Billy's apartment, watched a little TV, and made out on the couch. It had been nice. Very, very nice. He was a man; she was a woman. Nice.
Now, as Billy turned to go inside, a chill cut sharply across her chest. She hugged herself while wind whistled low through the air and sent leaves sweeping and fluttering down the street. It was a crisp, eerie kind of night, emphasized by the blackened windows of the brownstone. In fact, the only apartment lit up was hers, on the third floor.
As she slipped her key into the lock, she heard a rustling in the shrubs behind her. Abruptly she spun around, but there was nothing there. Nothing she could see, anyway, so she turned back to the door. Then she heard it again.
Instinctively, her pulse kicked up. The wind had stopped, so what was that rustle?
Probably a raccoon.
A twig snapped loudly behind her. That's not a raccoon, she thought, just as her key got jammed in the old, tarnished lock. Leaves crackled behind the shrubs, and even though she still couldn't see anything, her chest shuddered with fear. Damn it! She struggled with both hands to turn the key, but the lock rattled and resisted. Her heart pounded in her ears, and her palms began to sweat.
Finally the key turned. Shoving hard on the heavy front door, Billy hurried inside and leaned all her weight on it so it would close quickly. With a hand to her heart, she glanced back through the side window. Nothing. It must've only been an animal. Sighing with relief, she thanked God it had been only her imagination running rampant, and jogged up the stairs to her apartment.
Twenty minutes later Billy was showered and balled up on her sofa under her favorite afghan, with Pike resting lazily near her lap. With a contented sigh she thought how much she loved this apartment. There were unfinished paintings and stacks of books all around, and oversize furniture that should've made the place feel cluttered, but instead, just made it feel cozy. White and colored lights glowed warmly in her living room, and a pumpkin-scented candle flickered brightly on the coffee table.
Coffee! That was a good idea. On the way to the kitchen she stopped at the table in the front hall because she noticed the flashing red "2" on the answering machine. That was right—she'd ignored the phone when she and Mark had been cuddling on the couch. Now she turned the volume up and hit play.
"Billy? It's Mom. Aren't you home yet? Belinda, if you're home, pick up. Okay—I guess you're not home. (Another pause.) Well, I called to see how you're doing—and also to tell you I got the number of that headhunter I told you about. Remember Gladys Belding's son, Kip? Gladys said you should call him right away to set something up. Apparently he's new, but he's already doing fantastic with it. I want you to call him." She recited Kip Belding's number, and repeated it four times. "Don't forget to call him," she added. "He'll be able to get you some interviews and find you a real job. And call me after you talk to him, and tell me what he says. Don't forget to let me know. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow night for dinner. I love you. Call me about Kip—bye."
She hit next to hear the second message, but there was nothing. A little static, then silence. But there was no dial tone, indicating that the caller was still on the line when the machine was recording. A trace of anxiety crept into Billy's chest as she listened to the charged silence that stretched across the line, and then—
Brriinng!
She jumped, startled by the loud shrilling of the phone. Pike leaped off the couch, barking. "Hello!" Billy said, after snatching up the receiver.
"Hey—are you okay?"
"Oh, God," she said on a breath, and clutched her chest. "You scared me."
"Why?" Corryn asked. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no, it's nothing," Billy said, catching her breath, and resting the cordless between her ear and her shoulder. She petted Pike and rubbed under his chin to calm him down. "There was just this hang-up call on my machine, and then the phone rang...." Her voice trailed off as she realized how silly she sounded. What was wrong with her today?
As she trailed into the kitchen, Pike followed, barking again. "Shh,
be quiet, sweetie," Billy said, petting him, "or Lady McAvit will call Animal Control."
"Oh, God, would she really?" Corryn said.
"Who knows anymore?" Billy replied, and reached for the sack of Columbian coffee beans she kept in the freezer.
"Hey, want to hear a real asshole story?" Corryn asked.
"Of course, what happened?"
"Okay, so I'm on the E line today, and the guy next to me tweaks my nipple."
"What!" Billy froze mid coffee grinding. "Are you serious?"
"Oh, but wait, that's not even the best part," Corryn said. "The guy's a cop."
"What!"
"I know! I couldn't believe it. Just when I thought I'd seen it all, I discover yet another dimension to the pathetic desperation of men."
"Seriously. Did you say anything?" Billy asked.
Corryn went on to give her a full account of what had happened on the train, including the part about how she hadn't actually seen the green-eyed, overdeveloped guy do it, but it just had to be him. "Anyway, how was your night?"
Billy filled her in on the Kenmore Pub—namely, how it was fun until Mark the boyfriend turned into Mark the politician. "I don't know," she said now. "I just wish he didn't have to be on all the time."
And she wished she could be more on—turned on.
"Yeah, Kane was on all the time too," Corryn said. "On the prowl."
Just then Billy remembered the cute female bartender, and every other girl whose face lit up for Mark. "That isn't making me feel better," she said.
"Oh, no, no! I'm sorry; I didn't mean anything about Mark. I was just ranting."
So what else was new? Sporadic male-bashing had become a staple in Corryn's conversations. Not that Billy minded, but she just wished that Kane hadn't made her sister so relentlessly cynical. They chatted for a few more minutes; then Billy said, "Okay, I'll see you tomorrow night at Mom and Dad's."
"Um..."
Uh-oh—she knew that tone of voice.
"Corryn, don't even think about punking out tomorrow." Her sister was guiltily silent on the other end. "If you think you're leaving me to fend off two weeks of Mom's pent-up nagging, you are very wrong."
"Fine," she relented. "I'll be there."
"Thank you," Billy said brightly. "Love you."
"Yeah, yeah. Love you, too."
After Billy settled back on the sofa with her freshly brewed coffee, Pike settled in beside her. The TV was on, but she wasn't paying much attention. Instead, images kept flashing through her mind, taking her back through her romantic history—back to her first time with her ex-boyfriend, Ryan. He'd worked in the sales department of Net Circle, and he was a cute, funny guy, even if he did have a bit of a Napoleon complex. They'd slept together on their six-month anniversary and he was very sweet about the whole thing.
Billy supposed that she'd gotten off to a late start with the opposite sex because she'd attended Catholic girls' schools until she was eighteen. When she'd entered college, guys had been everywhere, yet dating was aberrant. Hooking up for empty, drunk thrills was more the standard protocol, and that just wasn't her. Sure, she'd kissed a few guys back then, but she'd hoped for something more substantial—more meaningful.
Inevitably, because of her naïveté, she'd fallen hard for Seth Lannigan. He'd been her first real boyfriend, and she'd thrown herself so deeply and blindly into their relationship—for the short time it had lasted, anyway.
She sighed now, thinking how wonderful it would be to have a serious boyfriend—no waiting. Someone who was her best friend, soul mate, and everything else, all wrapped up in one. She would rest her cheek on his chest and listen to his heart, and he wouldn't have to get up early in the morning. Or if he did, he wouldn't care.
Despite Billy's minimal sexual experience—or maybe because of it—her dreams that night were fraught with dirty, carnal images. They flashed through her mind like bursts of fire; they licked flames up her body. One dream was particularly vivid in her mind: Seth tearing her blouse, spreading her legs, and thrusting roughly inside her. There was a fierce hunger to it that in no way represented Seth's gentle soul, but maybe it captured the raw sensuality Billy had always suspected was lurking beyond his kind heart.
She woke up sweaty, with her pajama pants sticking to her inner thighs as the dampness between her legs made her crotch feel soaked. Squeezing her legs tight, she twisted in her sheets and tried desperately to slip back into the dream. To finish what they'd started. To find out what it would be like to be with Seth—even if only in her mind.
Chapter 8
The following day Seth was hammering a new wooden railing to the back deck stairs, trying to pound away thoughts of work. An hour earlier he'd called Lucas to check on business, and after giving him a positive status update, Lucas had thrown in his usual offer to buy Seth out. It was a running joke between them—the kind that was dead serious at the same time—and until recently, Seth had never considered taking Lucas up on the offer. But over the past couple of months, the idea had gained appeal. What would it be like to sell the company and leave Seattle? To move back and start over?
What am I saying? Seth thought as he flipped over his hammer to pull a nail out of the wood; he'd just banged it in crooked because he was paying no attention, and instead letting his imagination run off without his sense.
All this because he'd seen Billy? They'd shared a cup of coffee, for chrissake. For all he knew, she had a serious boyfriend already. For all he knew, she had no interest in him anymore. There was no way he was going to sell the business he'd spent the last three years building. And even if Billy were single and interested, surely she wouldn't like the idea of a long-distance relationship any more now than she did four years ago.
"Seth? Are you home?"
Startled, he looked up and saw Sally winding around the backyard with a basket in hand. Her face lit up when she saw him working on the deck, and she gently elbowed the tall young woman who was with her. "Hi," he said, smiling, and then abruptly realized he was bare-chested. With a hint of shyness, he reached for the T-shirt he'd pulled off about half an hour ago.
"I hope this is a good time," Sally said, coming closer.
"Sure, sure, of course," he said, hastily pulling his shirt on, then ruffling his hand carelessly through his hair.
"This is my niece, Pam," Sally said, climbing onto the deck with the picnic basket in one hand and Pam's arm in the other.
Of course, he should've guessed. Although, in fairness, he had agreed to the three of them getting together. Fine, as long as Sally didn't plan on going anywhere. "Hey, how're you doing?" he said amiably, and shook Pam's hand.
"Hi," she said, running some of her brown pageboy haircut behind her ears. As she restlessly shuffled her feet, the iridescent parachute suit she wore made swishing noises. She reminded him of an elementary school gym teacher—one who played for the WNBA in her spare time.
"We brought lunch," Sally explained. "We figured you were working hard back here, so we wanted to give you a nice break." She nudged Pam again. "Right, Pam?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, right," she said.
"Thanks, that's so nice," Seth said, taking the heavy basket for Sally and setting it down on the picnic table. "You didn't have to do that," he added, grinning, as he peeked inside the basket. "What's in here, anyway?"
"We brought lobster salad sandwiches and sweet potato crepes from Jacques's Bistro."
"That sounds great," he said. "Well, here, let me clear some room." After he shifted his scattered tools down to the other side of the thick oak picnic table, Pam and Seth sat down, while Sally spread out the plates, napkins, and food. Then she pulled out three small bottles of chilled Perrier and three straws.
"So, Pam, Sally mentioned that you're planning on moving," Seth said conversationally. As he peeled the foil off his sandwich, he tried to ignore Sally's beaming expression as she darted encouraging glances around the table. "Where do you live now?"
"I'm an EMT in Newton," she said flatly. "But
I want to move to the West Coast in the next few months or so."
"Oh, what's out there?"
Shrugging indifferently, she bit off a big hunk of her sandwich and replied with her mouth full: "I don't know; I just want to see other places, like California."
"And Washington state, of course," Sally chimed in. Pam mumbled some form of agreement.
"By the way, Sally, how's everything coming together for the jubilee tomorrow night?" Seth asked.
"Fine, everything should go smoothly. And thanks again for going to Bella Donna for me the other day."
"No problem," he said casually, not revealing how much his visit to that bakery had affected him.
"Speaking of the jubilee," Sally said, "Pam's going to be there, too. Right, Pam?"
"Uh-huh."
"So, then, uh..." Sally began, smiling broadly, looking from Seth to Pam, Pam to Seth. "We'll all be there then. Tomorrow night. That's good; it'll give us a chance to get to know each other better. Of course, you both already know me, so..."
"Hey, Seth, where's the head?" Pam asked, rising from the table. At this angle his eyes had to travel absurdly far up to make contact with Pam's.
"Just inside," he said, motioning to the sliding glass doors. "Go through the kitchen, and turn left in the hallway."
When she was out of earshot, Sally leaned over and said, "Isn't she gorgeous?"
"Yeah, she's a cute kid," Seth replied benignly, deliberately making the point that he had no interest. But just in case he wasn't making it clear enough, he added, "Sally, you realize that I'm not looking to meet someone new, right?" Not exactly the truth, but it would suffice for the moment. "I hope you're not getting any ideas."
Sally's eyes shot wide open as she placed an elegant, manicured hand to her chest. "Me?" she said innocently. "Ideas?"
