by Lass Small
When Jamie quit laughing, Tyler continued, “When I woke up the next morning, she was gone. If the dogs had still been there, I would’ve thought they’d eaten her. But she and all those dogs had disappeared. She never did apologize.”
“Apologize to you? Are you that stupid? You’ve never given one clue to being such a stupid man!”
“I was wrong?”
“Don’t you realize that?”
“Why... no. When I stumbled into the dogfight, I looked. I’d never seen one before then. I thought she’d be as interested because she’d never been to one, either.”
“Did she want to see one?”
Tyler was logical. “We were surprised.”
“I guess you were! How could you have been so—insensitive?”
Tyler spread his arms. “If you don’t know how people live, how can you judge them?”
“I can agree to that—to a degree. She isn’t a lawyer. She wouldn’t try any cases on dogfights or murder. She didn’t need to see a dogfight.”
Being a lawyer, Tyler argued, “There were women there who were excited and yelling and betting.”
“It takes all kinds—” Jamie threw in that old saw.
Earnestly, Tyler communicated, “I’d rather go to a dogfight than to have Miss Nelson come to my place. Are you sure you can’t be there tonight?”
“If there was any way, at all, that I could come and help Barb past you, I would. Could you possibly make it another night?”
“This wasn’t my doing! I told you that. She just—arranged it. She terrifies me.”
“When Barb finally realizes what a gem I am, and we marry, I may hesitate to have you as best man.”
“I don’t believe I could be a part of that sacrifice of a friend marrying that woman.”
With serious, narrowed eyes, Jamie said, “I told you to be careful.”
Tyler lifted his hands in surrender, but his mouth said, “Don’t do anything that rash. If you’re ever tempted, let me get a bunch to talk you through it.”
“Be quiet.” And Jamie went back to his computer. He was through talking.
Tyler considered his office mate. This was the longest conversation they’d ever had. And Jamie hadn’t been reading papers or shifting them at the time. He’d given his whole, entire attention to Tyler.
And being attracted by the Nelson witch, Jamie had not once gotten hot or angry. He’d not once lost his temper. He’d warned Tyler firmly, but with neutral words, no swearing, and his comments about Miss Nelson were kind.
Hmmm.
Tyler’s mind looked at Miss Nelson to see what Jamie could possibly see in such a harpy. But, as Tyler considered their legal supervisor, his mouth was sour. And he sighed. He was going to have to save Jamie from that woman. With Jamie so positive and firm about her, it wasn’t going to be easy to make him understand.
But there was no way, at all, that Tyler was going to throw his own body at the lioness just to save Jamie. No way. Nuh-uh. Not that. There were limits even in friendship.
With that acknowledgment, Tyler buckled down and there was relative quiet in the office. The females on the window were frozen in the silent time that passed in the busyness of the office. The phones rang. People talked in the hallway. Doors opened and closed.
Neither lawyer heard those things. Their ears were selective. Their minds could concentrate.
It was almost five-thirty before Tyler was ready to leave his office. The brief was finished. He only needed to smooth the indicated wording on his own computer and print out a fresh copy. It would be ready when Miss Nelson came for it.
He called Kayla.
He got her just before she left her office. He talked fast and serious, going over the same crisis so that she would understand.
Again she impatiently agreed several times.
He finished earnestly, “Be there.”
“I told you that I would!” And she hung up the phone.
She wasn’t even courteous. No wonder he’d divorced her.
Tyler was so upset by that Nelson woman that he couldn’t eat much for supper. He had to throw away the peanut butter sandwich. His mouth was too dry to eat peanut butter.
How could a divorced man who was twenty-eight years old be intimidated by any woman?
At his apartment, Tyler finished the brief and verified it was accurate, neat and tidy. He lay it carefully on the dining-room table. It was in the one cleared space in the accumulated clutter of mail, books and papers.
Then, in dread of Miss Nelson, he paced. Time passed. Kayla didn’t arrive ahead of Miss Nelson. The threat of being alone with such a barracuda scared Tyler’s stomach.
Miss Nelson came early, at a quarter of nine. She smiled a friendly smile as she mentioned, “It’s been a hairy day.”
Tyler was all business. He went directly to the brief in its protective folder, picked it up, turned and found Miss Nelson right in front of him. He stepped one long step back and held the folder out to Miss Nelson.
She put her purse on the table and the table held firm with the added weight. Kayla had chosen that table. It was a good one. Too bad. If it had crashed under the additional weight of Miss Nelson’s purse, she might have left in a flurry. Unfortunately, the table held.
Miss Nelson said to the silent Tyler. “It’s been a bearcat of a day.”
Tyler held the folder in front of him, ready for her to take it. He had no conversation to share. None at all. He lifted the folder a third time. Third time charm. It would work. She would take it. And she would leave.
Sure.
As he had dreaded, Miss Nelson inquired with a slight smile. “Do you have a beer? Any wine?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Don’t be so selfish,” she said over her shoulder as she turned and walked into the kitchen.
Tyler stood, undecided. Should he follow her? She might consider that friendly. If he stayed out of the kitchen, she might feel she was intruding.
From the kitchen came the immediate exclamation, “What a mess!”
Tyler frowned and went to the kitchen door. Annoyed, he looked around. Then he snapped, “You should have seen it before I cleaned it up!” He wasn’t being funny. His tone rode on indignation.
And the front door opened!
Kayla was there!
Tyler started for her as he exclaimed, “You’re here!”
She hissed, “Stay away from me. My car wouldn’t start. I had to take a cab here.”
And Tyler thought how different the two women were. They ought to switch attitudes.
And just as Kayla asked, “I thought the witch would be heee—” Miss Nelson came through the kitchen door.
Having heard Kayla’s comment, Miss Nelson smiled. She was a woman who wasn’t where she was because of timidity. She said, “You must be Kayla.”
Kayla nodded. “I’m a Davie.”
That altered Miss Nelson’s attitude. She asked, “Which line?”
And Kayla replied, “My daddy is Paul.”
“Ah.”
Whatever that meant.
“So your sister is Lauren.” Miss Nelson wasn’t questioning.
And Kayla replied, “Of course.”
“Kyle Phillips just married her.”
It hadn’t been very long ago that Kayla’s sister, Lauren, had spent a freak, three-day snowstorm alone with Kyle...at his place. How interesting that this woman mentioned it.
Kayla gave a shiveringly cool look at Miss Nelson. “You have some problem with that?” Being a Davie helped.
“Of course not.”
“Were you invited to the wedding?”
“No.”
“How strange you brought up the subject.” Then Kayla looked at Tyler with deliberately opened eyes. “Will this take any more time?”
“Not long,” Tyler said very kindly. “We just have to go over a brief to be sure I did it right. I know you’re tired. Curl up, here, on the sofa. We’ll soon be done.”
Kayla looked briefl
y at the mess piled up on the dining-room table and flinched. She closed her eyes in discipline, then went into the living room where she removed the magazines and papers before she curled up on the sofa.
The drapes were open. Tyler hadn’t wanted to be—enclosed—with Miss Nelson. With the drapes open, at least someone could have seen inside. That fact might have prevented Miss Nelson’s assault on him if Kayla hadn’t made it there in time.
But Kayla was there.
At the portion of the dining-room table that Tyler had cleared, Miss Nelson was seated. She moved over so that Tyler could sit next to her, but he sat on the opposite side of the table. He said, “I have the file copy.”
She said, “Be sure it’s returned tomorrow.”
And he replied, “Yes’um.”
She asked, “Is—Kayla spending the night?”
That question scared the hairs on his arms and up his spine. He replied, “We’re divorced.” It was not really any kind of reply.
That was the first time Tyler had ever admitted aloud to her that they were that word...divorced.
Miss Nelson proceeded to read. But his saying that he was half of a divorce had silenced Tyler and sent him into a strange vacuum. His ears popped with the silence. It was very strange. He was divorced. He was no longer half of a pair. He really was divorced.
He turned and looked at the couch beyond in the living room. He could see the dark hair of the other half of their divorce. Her hair was puffed over the arm of the couch. She was lying down, resting. And he thought of seeing her lying down and looking up at him.
As the unaware Miss Nelson read the brief, across the mess of the table, her host was remembering his wife naked and close to him. She’d smiled and licked her lips, lifting her mouth to his.
Erotic imaginings were not unknown, especially with a man whose wife has deserted him. But it was a little strange for Tyler to be dreaming erotica concerning his ex-wife when there was a distastefully interested woman across the table from him. Why erotica? Why now?
It was because of his wife’s long, dark hair that bunched under her head and was visible over the arm of the sofa in the next room. The back of the sofa blocked seeing the rest of Kayla. Only her puffed, dark hair was visible. That soft mass that lured Tyler’s attention and slithered erotica into his brain...his senses...his neglected sex.
Four
With Miss Nelson across the table, reading quietly, Tyler relaxed minimally. He heard Kayla yawn and the small sounds of her unseen body settling on the sofa. He glanced at Miss Nelson. Had she heard? Kayla was there for the stretch of time Miss Nelson would stay.
Something warm stirred in Tyler’s heart. It was stupidity. Kayla no longer loved him. She was being staunch for a past commitment That was a Davie trait. Once committed, they stood by their word.
But it was only honor. Kayla no longer loved Tyler. However reluctant, she just felt duty bound to aid him in a crisis.
Tyler’s phenomenal eyelashes lowered to shield his sad eyes. Kayla. His wife...no longer. But she had come there to be his shield. She had done that.
The silence crackled in tiny ear pops. He could hear the Nelson woman’s breathing. The sound of it was hungry and taught. She wanted Tyler’s body. He was glad Kayla was there.
And Tyler considered women who are vulnerable to physically stronger men. He thought he just might take up the Women’s Cause. He could be an advocate for women’s freedom. They’d be grateful, and he’d have to list times when each could have him alone.
He’d give Kayla first choice.
Just watch, she’d wave a hand spread in front of her and say, “Never mind.”
Her body wasn’t as greedy as other women’s. Like Barbara Nelson’s. An avaricious double greed. What made that Nelson woman act like a man? Like a hunting man who used and discarded.
And Barbara’s husky voice said softly, “You do a wonderful job of it.”
The very words terrified Tyler. He gasped and—
Barbara went on, “This brief is perfectly done. Thank you.”
Seriously, he replied, “You’re welcome.”
Regretfully, Barbara glanced over at the dark hair visible over the arm of the couch. “It’s too bad we can’t visit now.” She did hesitate for his reply, but with his silence, Barbara went on, “We’d probably waken her.” She gestured to the back of the sofa and the dark hair that could be seen.
Tyler continued silent.
So Barbara asked, “Or would you like me to help you waken her so that she could leave? It must be a burden when an ex-wife just wanders in on you.”
Tyler didn’t reply.
Barbara sighed. “It must be difficult for a man your age to have the problem of an ex-wife who doesn’t know better than to hang around.”
Thinking of his strident effort in getting Kayla there, Tyler continued his silence.
“You are loyal.” Barbara was somewhat droll. “I’ll take this along.” She smiled. “See you tomorrow.”
He nodded once. He stood rigidly alert. He was breathing high in his chest. He had escaped the vulture’s talons? He walked over to the door and opened it, tensely holding it open.
Barbara gathered her things thoughtfully, making noises and dropped one large book that should have lifted the sleeping beauty right off the sofa. To the wakeful couple, the continued silence from the sofa was a surprise. Neither commented.
Tyler had opened the door all the way back against the wall, so there was no hindrance at all in Barbara’s move to the front door. She paused and smiled at Tyler.
His face was serious.
Barbara said, “Another time.”
He only looked at her with distanced seriousness. He made no reply.
His supervisor then moved through the door, and he gently closed it after her. He pressed against the door and heard the bolt lock. He was safe.
He turned to took at his ex-wife, but his eyes moved sideways and looked beyond. The drapes had been left open. He could see into the street. He didn’t move. He saw Barbara after she had emerged from the building.
She glanced up at his window.
He stood as he was, facing the couch but watching sideways through his thick lashes.
Barbara went to her car and got in. But she didn’t start it. She watched his window.
From the couch, Kayla asked through stiff lips, “Is she gone?”
Through unmoving lips he replied, “Don’t move. The drapes are open. Her car is still there. She’s watching to see if you’ll leave. If you do, she’ll come back here!”
With a still face, Kayla managed, “Oh, for Pete’s sake!”
Equally careful, he replied urgently, “Don’t let her see you’re awake. She’ll come back!”
“This is ridiculous.”
“I agree. I find I’m quite compassionate with women’s rights. I’ll probably volunteer to help them with their cause!”
“Well, that’s a plus.”
“I always treated you as an individual.”
“You treated me as if I was an iron-stomached man!”
Without moving his lips, he managed to exclaim, “I did not!”
“You took me to the tackiest places!”
“I thought you’d appreciate the fact I was expanding your awareness!”
“Close the drapes so I can sit up and argue.”
He declined. “She needs to think we’re here for the night I’ll come over and carry you to the bedroom, turning out—”
“No you don’t.” How could she be that positive without moving?
He assured her, “It’s for effect! Quit thinking I’m just trying to get inside your underwear!”
She was silent. He tidied up the room, crossing in front of the open drapes. Then he went and squatted down beside his ex-wife. Slowly, carefully, he put back her hair and lay his hand on her head softly as if he was admiring her. Since his back was then to the window, he could quite easily tell her, “I’m going to carry you into the other room. She’ll think yo
u’re spending the night. A sort of old home time. Pretend you’re still asleep. Be lax.”
“I think this is some sort of trap. Is she really out there?”
“Yep. When I pick you up, you put your chin on my shoulder. Then you can peek across my back and you’ll see her car on the corner across the intersection. It’s the first one parked on the west side of the street there.”
“I’m to be lax and pretend deep sleep?”
“Please.”
“You’re a big nuisance.”
“I’m worth saving.”
“From...her?”
“She’s a barracuda.”
“She must be desperate if she’s trying for you.”
Sarcastic, he labeled her comment. “Thanks.”
“Anytime. Tell me when you plan to lift me. I’ll try to help.”
“Don’t. You have to look lax and asleep.”
“Don’t drop me.”
He chided softly, “I never have.”
“The other times you carried me, I helped.”
“I’ve been working out...my frustrations.”
“At the gym or with what’s-her-face?”
He almost smiled. “You curious?”
“No. I’m bored. This has been a real drag. In that long silence, I just about sat up and peeked over the back of the sofa.”
He inquired, “Why? To see if we were there?”
“To see if I could slip away.”
“Oh.” Then, still squatted down, he said, “I’m gonna get you.”
And she asked instantly, “What’s that mean?”
As he carefully seemed to push her hair back, he innocently assured her, “I just meant it’s time for me to scoop you up and carry you out of sight.”
“Don’t stumble.”
He chided, his voice in his deep throat, “Have I ever?”
Again, she reminded him, “I always helped.”
He offered, “I can put your arm around my neck.”
“My left one.”
He questioned with interest, “Not both?”
