Bad Behavior

by Kristin Hardy

  “I know.” She moved her head. “But there’s no one here I know, now that my mom and dad moved to San Diego.”

  Dom flicked on his blinker and steered into the development she’d grown up in. Familiar streets, familiar houses. Slowly now, they drove by homes she’d walked past on the way to and from school every day for seventeen years, until she’d started driving to high school as a senior.

  “It looks good,” she said aloud. And it warmed her to see it. The houses were kept up, the yards tidy, the cars late model. She passed the houses of friends long gone, places that had been like second homes to her.

  And then they turned onto her street. She wasn’t aware that her lips parted or that her eyes lit in pleasure.

  But Dom was.

  The house looked so familiar she was tempted to walk up to the front door and push it open. Instead, she contented herself with searching and snapping a picture with her cell phone to send to her parents.

  “Oh, look, they kept the palm tree. And my pine.” It was an Arbor Day tree that had come as a tiny sprig in a quart milk carton, she recalled, back when she’d been in first grade. It had grown taller than the peak of the rooftop.

  Delaney squeezed Dom’s hand. “This is absolutely the best. Thanks for bringing me here.”

  “I thought you might like it.”

  Looking at him, she felt light, as though the euphoria she’d felt earlier had slipped inside her to form a gradually swelling bubble.

  Dom circled the block and headed down the street to another block. “First your house, now mine.”

  HOME. IT GAVE HIM THE same sense of steadiness and belonging that it always had. Some women after losing their husbands might have chosen to move to a more manageable place. Jane Gordon had stayed, for her teenaged sons, for herself and maybe, Dom thought, for him.

  He pulled into the driveway behind her Prius. There was no sign of the Jettas owned by the twins. Off at school, he reminded himself and wondered how his mother felt.

  “The house looks great,” Delaney said as they walked up the path to the porch. Fuchsias and petunias hung from the eaves on either side of the walkway; impatiens and marigolds filled the flower beds below. “She still gardens, I see.”

  “She’ll never give that up.” Dom caught Delaney’s hand in his. “She’s got a green thumb.”

  As though on cue, Jane Gordon opened the door and came out to meet them, slender and blond, her step light and quick. “Delaney Phillips! Look at you!”

  It had been years, Delaney knew, but Jane hardly appeared any older. She was immediately pulled in for a long hug. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Oh, it’s such a surprise,” Jane chattered. “I still can’t believe you two ran into each other so far from home. And what a pretty girl you’ve turned out to be. But, you always were. I still remember you running around here all the time.” Jane turned to kiss Dom’s cheek, smelling, as always, of powder and L’air du Temps.

  “I always liked being here, Mrs. Gordon.”

  “Mrs. Gordon? Oh, that makes me feel a million years old. Jane, please.”

  “You look amazing, Jane.”

  And she did, Dom realized. He knew she still grieved for his father but she’d kept going, carving a vibrant, happy life for herself and her children. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a squeeze.

  Jane blinked in surprise. “What’s that for?”

  “Just because,” he said, linking his arm in hers. “Hey, come on out, I’ve got something to show you.”

  “Did you get a new car?” she asked.

  “Sort of.”

  When they came around the corner and saw the GTO, she stopped dead. For a moment, she didn’t say anything at all, just looked. “Oh, Dom,” she murmured at last, her voice slightly uneven. And he turned to see her blinking. “It’s his, isn’t it?”

  Dom hadn’t thought it would hurt her. “I should have told you,” he said awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  Delaney had moved closer to Jane’s other side, slipping an arm around her shoulders, he noticed in gratitude.

  “Oh, it’s all right. I’m just being silly.” Impatiently, Jane swiped at her cheeks and walked toward the GTO. “You have no idea how happy he’d have been to see this,” she said. “He loved all those cars, but this one was special. He used to talk about taking a drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, all the way to San Francisco, only the two of us.” She bit her lip and blinked, walking around the car to admire it.

  “Nothing says you can’t still go,” Delaney pointed out.

  “Who, me? No, that’d be no fun.”

  “Take a girlfriend,” Delaney suggested. “Take two or three. You and I could go if you can’t find one. We’ll go up to a place I know on Morro Bay where you can eat tacos on the water and watch the seals.”

  And Dom watched pleasure replace the wistfulness on his mother’s face. “Careful what you say,” Jane advised Delaney. “I might take you up on that.”

  “What about me?” Dom protested.

  “Some other time,” Delaney told him, sliding an arm around Jane’s waist. “This is girl stuff.”

  And as he watched them, all he could think was that he’d chosen himself quite a girl.

  THE SUN WAS SETTING BY the time they returned to Dom’s house. They sat on his wide, deep couch and watched the sun go down.

  “Thanks for taking me home,” Delaney said, leaning against him. “It was really wonderful. I had a great day.”

  “Me, too.” He pressed a kiss on her hair. “Thanks for being so nice to my mom.”

  “It’s not hard to do. I like her.” Delaney traced a pattern on their legs where they were pressed together, crossing from his to hers and around again. “So, let’s see, you leave tomorrow?”

  “Yep. Crack of dawn.”

  It was ridiculous to feel bereft. It was a simple business trip. He’d be back, she knew, and she knew she’d see him. That wasn’t the problem.

  The problem was, she’d miss him.

  He tightened his arm around her. “I’m back Friday, though. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in picking me up, would you?” This time, he kissed her mouth, lingering until she felt the heat of arousal begin to spread through her.

  She moved to straddle him on the couch. “Well, I could but you’d have to make it worth my while.” She leaned in to fuse her lips to his, nipping and teasing, reaching her hands down to the buttons on his fly.

  But he stopped her.

  Delaney raised a brow. “Not in the mood?”

  “When it comes to you, I’m always in the mood. I just think we should take it slow for once.”

  Now she was bewildered. “What do you mean?”

  He smoothed his hand down the line of her back and up over the curve of her hip. “Always in a hurry,” he whispered over her lips.

  “That’s because I know the goodies in store,” she said reaching for him again, but he stilled her hands.

  “So tonight we take our time for a change,” he murmured, drawing her into one of those long, swirling kisses. When he broke away, her breathing was unsteady. “We go slow.”

  And as sunset bled away into moonlight, they did.

  It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. There was something of reverence in the way he touched her. This time, there was no urgent heat, no desperate grasping. Even when they quickened, it was almost dreamy, one slow caress leading to the next. It wasn’t desire pushed aside for emotion. Instead, desire became emotion. Delaney felt as light as thistledown, buoyed up by some strange euphoria.

  When Dom poised his body over hers, she stared up at him, scarcely breathing. He slid slowly inside her and they exhaled together, their breath mixing, lips touching.

  For a breathless instant, he held himself absolutely still, as though absorbing the feeling. Delaney’s breath shuddered out.

  Then he began to move, slowly. And it was a revelation. Oh, when it was hard and fast, feverish and deep, the intens
ity was overwhelming. But now she could feel everything, every bit of his skin against her, every fractional inch of motion of his body inside hers. His back muscles flexed under her fingers, his arms tensed like rocks. His breath feathered over her lips.

  And she could see every sensation he felt reflected in his eyes. It was like she was diving into them, part of them, part of him, linked to him the way their bodies were linked. And every sensation that originated in his body ended in hers, and every sensation that she felt got transferred somehow to him.

  She stroked her fingertips up into his hair, cradling his face. Never like this, were the words in her mind. It had never been like this before. Because when you left the flash and the fire behind, you were left with what was really there, and what was really there, she understood suddenly, was far deeper than either of them had reckoned.

  And in a different moment she might have felt alarm, but with his gaze delving into hers, she could only feel power, immense joy and an intensity of feeling that she couldn’t even begin to analyze. Because she didn’t need to analyze it. Because all at once she knew.

  It was love.

  And it was love she felt as his cadence sped up, as the flow of movement from his body to hers intensified. With each stroke, she felt more and more full of emotion until she thought her heart would simply explode with it.

  It was his name that she cried out as she went over into the breathless freefall of orgasm. It was her name that she heard as he followed.

  And they spiraled down into sleep together.

  15

  “‘TAKING YOUR PRESENT into the future,’” Delaney told Liz Prisco of the DataStor marketing team. “That’s the slogan for your 2008 campaign. If you execute the plan as described, DataStor would net over five million advertising impressions.”

  Normally, Delaney would have laid out a proposed campaign in an elaborate conference room presentation, with slides, graphics, maybe even audio. Instead, the two of them sat in a booth in a retro diner, watching as the waiter cleared the plates from their late lunch.

  Brunette and slender, Liz gave Delaney a thoughtful gaze. “I like the concept. I definitely like the numbers. My key concern is whether you’ll be around to execute them as planned.”

  A not-so-subtle reference to Janet’s debacle. “Vision Quest has put in place an approvals process to govern that,” Delaney assured her. “What you see is what you’ll get—assuming you choose to renew your contract with us.”

  She resisted the urge to hold her breath. After weeks of discussions designed to repair the rift, all her hard work came down to this moment.

  Liz looked at her steadily. “I like working with you, Delaney. I always have. I like Vision Quest. We’re ready to sign, with one provision: that you are the creative person who oversees everything.”

  It felt a bit like indentured servitude. “I think we can accommodate that,” she said, ignoring the mix of excitement and queasiness. It was easy—she’d had lots of practice dealing with erratic emotional swings since the weekend, when she’d realized she was in love with Dom.

  In love. The idea generated a mix of elation, longing and nerves. It had been easy to feel the elation when she’d had Dom’s arms warm and tight around her. It had been safe to feel happy. The longing and nerves had risen steadily over the past several days, though, as the week had worn on and she’d barely heard from him. A call at the start, a brief e-mail two days later. Since then, nothing.

  He was busy, she reminded herself. That was all it was. And tried to ignore the hot press of panic at the thought that she’d gotten herself in way too deep.

  “Coffee, ladies?”

  Delaney blinked at the waiter. “Sure,” she said.

  The rest of the afternoon had slipped away by the time Delaney walked out to her car. No point in driving back to the office only to leave half an hour later, so she headed home. Work was falling into place, she thought as she stepped through her front gate with the smiling sun. Her personal life?

  Anybody’s guess.

  It took thirty days to form a habit, they said. So how was it that in the occasional days she and Dom had snatched together between his bouts of travel, she’d grown so accustomed to his company? They kept it simple: Dinner out, something thrown together at home, the night spent warmly entwined on the sofa.

  And later, in bed.

  Suddenly, she wanted him with a fierceness that took her by surprise. Without pausing to calculate, she did what she’d avoided all week: she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

  “Hello?”

  The butterflies fluttered as they always did. “Hi.”

  “Hey, you.” Genuine pleasure filled his words. “I was about to call.”

  “So where are you? I think the last time I spoke with you you’d landed in Atlanta.” She walked through her door and tossed her purse down.

  “Has it been that long?” Dom asked. “Sorry. It’s all become a blur. Let’s see…Atlanta was Monday. We hopped over to Dallas Tuesday afternoon, then on up to St. Louis Wednesday morning, Detroit Wednesday afternoon. Got here late Wednesday night.”

  No wonder she hadn’t heard from him, with that itinerary. Intending to change, she headed to her bedroom. “Where’s here?”

  “Chicago. My hotel.”

  “Is it windy?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  “Who says there’s no truth in advertising?” She sat on the bed. “So I can sort of understand Detroit but what’s in St. Louis? I didn’t realize it was a financial hotbed.”

  “Oh, Wheels Up, a tire company we’re working on buying. It was a chance to get some face time with them.”

  She could do with a little face time. “I miss you,” she found herself saying without intending to.

  “I like that.” His voice warmed her. “I miss you, too, especially when you’re naked,” he added wickedly. “I wish I could be there with you right now.”

  “When’s this going to be over?” She lay back on the bed.

  “The road show? A couple more weeks. I’ll be back home tomorrow, though, so don’t make any plans.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it. However,” her free hand drifted down over her belly and to her thighs, “tomorrow seems like a long way off. Maybe we should do something about it now.”

  “What did you have in mind?” he drawled.

  “If I were there, I can tell you exactly what I’d do. First, I’d unzip your fly and pull you out in my hand,” Delaney murmured, sliding her own hand up under her shirt. “And you’d be hard. Do you think you’d be hard?” she asked.

  “Yes.” His voice was husky.

  “And I’d slide you into my mouth and run my tongue up and down the underside of your cock.” One stealthy hand sneaked down between her thighs. “Oh, yeah,” she whispered. “I’d suck on you and lick you until you’d gotten even harder. But I wouldn’t take you all the way there, not completely because I’d want you all the way up inside me. I’d want you to—”

  She heard a telephone ring. “Oh, hell,” Dom said abruptly.

  “Ignore it,” Delaney purred.

  “Can’t,” he said in frustration. “It’s probably Eric. I was supposed to meet him downstairs for dinner like ten minutes ago. Look, hold that thought,” he ordered. “Let’s pick this up when I get back. I’ve got to go.”

  And then he was gone and it was just her.

  Missing him more than ever. Delaney put down the phone and rolled up off the bed. It wasn’t only the phone coitus interruptus. She missed hearing his voice. She missed having him on the couch beside her. She missed trading stories of their days. She missed drifting off to sleep with him at night.

  For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sleeping right. She’d heard the stories, women who couldn’t get used to an empty bed. Women who spent the night tossing and turning when their husbands were out of town. Not that that was what was going on with her. It was probably coincidence.

  Nervously, she stopped changing clot
hes and began to pace.

  Yes, she cared about Dom. And maybe that meant finding a way to be with him, but it didn’t have to mean settling down. That was for other people. It wasn’t for her. It had never been for her. She was about wild times, wild men, not the long haul.

  She seized her cell phone.

  Less than an hour later, she’d plumbed every one of her acquaintances and found no one she could persuade to go out. Dressed in a tank top and low-cut black leather jeans, Delaney tossed down her cell phone and stared around her living room in annoyance. No one wanted to go out? It was eight-thirty on a Thursday, for heaven’s sakes. There was music happening, nightlife. What were they thinking, wanting to sit around?

  Except that if she were honest, she didn’t much feel like partying herself.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. What was happening? Was she getting as boring as everyone else?

  Not boring, responsible, she told herself as she flopped onto her couch. That was fair. After all, she had to hit the ground running the next day at work. Going out and dancing until the bars closed down probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, now that she thought about it. A little sex was what she really needed. The perfect balance. Too bad Dom wasn’t around.

  Of course, they could always pick up where they’d left off.

  After all, he’d promised to call back. Her hand slipped up under her shirt to unsnap the front catch of her bra. Maybe she ought to send him something to remind him, a little pick me up, emphasis on up. She grinned.

  And felt her nipples harden as she squeezed them.

  Hold that thought, he’d said. She’d go him one better.

  A slow smile curved her lips as she reached for her cell phone and slipped up the button that exposed the camera.

  IF IT WAS FRIDAY, IT HAD to be Chicago, Dom thought wearily as he watched Eric lean under the table in the conference room of Craig Financial.

  The night before had been a dead loss. He’d been running on fumes for far too long; when he’d come back from dinner the fumes had finally run out. One minute he’d been lying back to close his eyes for a moment. The next, the morning sun was streaming in.