Wicked Pleasures

by Tori Carrington

  “I’m still not following the allegory.”

  “An analogy, I think.” She put down her hot dog and crossed her forearms on top of the table. “You see, there’s no skill needed in preparing a hot dog. What’s there to do? You boil or broil the dogs, slap them in a bun, offer up a lot of condiments, throw in a bag of chips, and voila, an inexpensive meal is born. While Will…”

  She’d done a lot of thinking about him, her and what had happened between them the past couple of days. Not because she’d wanted to. But rather she’d needed to. The other day she’d compared them to a bicycle and a BMW roadster. This morning she’d stared at the contents of the refrigerator and used tuna and salmon to demonstrate how they were different.

  Now it was hot dogs and filet mignon.

  “Will…well, he’s a gourmet dish made up of expensive ingredients, some of which it takes sniffing pigs in France to find, and each item has been carefully cut and prepared just so, taking time and patience and knowledge.”

  “Mmm. As well as his being delicious,” Lucky added.

  “What’s the matter with hot dogs?” To prove her point, she picked up the one she was working on and filled her mouth with a bite.

  Lucky smiled at her then cleared her throat when she realized Renae wasn’t amused. “Actually that was going to be my question. What is wrong with a hot dog? Providing, of course, that I’m accepting your comparing yourself to one?”

  It took Renae a good minute to chew what was in her mouth then swallow before she could speak. “Man cannot live on hot dogs alone?”

  Lucky waggled her finger at her. “Yes, but filet mignon isn’t an American classic.”

  “Will isn’t American.”

  This time Lucky burst out laughing, further deepening Renae’s grimace.

  “This is not funny.”

  “I beg to differ. I find this entire conversation very amusing.” She polished off her first hot dog then started on her second. “If I were to buy what you’re saying right now, Renae, well, then, I’d have to go home and boot Colin out of my apartment.”

  “You two are living together?”

  Lucky made a face. “Well, we haven’t spent a night apart since working everything out two months ago, although neither of us has changed our mailing address.” She waved her hand. “Anyway, back to my point. If it’s your contention that hot dogs and filet mignon don’t mix…well, then I’ve got a problem on my hands.”

  “You are so not a hot dog.”

  “And you are?”

  Renae felt the beginnings of a smile take shape. “A really good hot dog. A popular one. What’s that brand? The kind that plumps when you cook ’em? Or, no, wait. Maybe I’m a brat. Yeah, I like that better, I think.”

  “Will would say you were a banger.”

  “No, Will would say he wanted to bang me, but that’s neither here nor there.”

  Renae felt better after a few minutes with her friend than she’d felt over the past few days. Not so much because of what they were saying, but rather because she was talking to someone at all. She’d been so busy with the shop, helping Lucky get ready for her grand opening in a couple of weeks, and trying to avoid both Will and Nina that she hadn’t had an honest to God conversation with anyone during that same time period. And while her and Lucky’s exchange didn’t change or solve anything, it had allowed her to vent and the mere act of doing so made her feel enormously better.

  Lucky shifted in her booth. “So have you called Ginger to invite her to lunch yet?”

  Renae shook her head, intrigued by the way Lucky had worded the question. She hadn’t asked about her proposal, although, when they’d initially discussed it, she had offered to take a look at it if Renae wanted her to. “I’m still putting the finishing touches on the documentation.”

  Lucky seemed to be looking at her a little too closely.

  Renae considered telling her about the other troublesome person in her life at that moment, but decided there was such a thing as too much venting. Especially to one person.

  She got the ridiculous image of Lucky leaving the restaurant with her hair permanently blown back from her face from the impact of Renae’s rants, and smiled inwardly.

  “You know, you may just be using this whole hot dog versus filet mignon argument as a crutch to keep you from advancing your relationship with Will.”

  It was Renae’s turn to blink at her friend. “What?”

  Lucky shrugged, as if it were of no consequence to her, but Renae got the impression that Lucky was sharing more than advice. “Let’s just say I’ve been there. And it’s a constant topic of conversation between Colin and me.” She put the last half of her hot dog down and brushed her hands on a paper napkin. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in so far over my head I just want to scream.”

  Renae realized she hadn’t even blinked at the odd pairing of Colin the psychologist with one-time bar waitress Lucky. Which further emphasized the holes in her own argument.

  “I mean, Colin took me to the opera at the Valentine Theatre a couple of weeks ago. The opera. I didn’t have a clue how to dress, what to say when he introduced me to people he’s known for years….” She swallowed hard, indicating she still wasn’t completely over the experience. “Doing something like that is second nature to Colin but for me—”

  “You’d take a smoke-filled bar any day.”

  Lucky smiled. “Yes. Something like that. Only they’re not smoke-filled anymore, are they? What with the new law and all.”

  “Shame. I was thinking about taking up the habit.”

  Lucky smiled.

  “Did Colin pick up on your feelings?”

  “Of course. What kind of psychologist, and lover, would he be if he hadn’t?”

  “And I suppose he made you talk about it until you were blue in the face afterward.” Renae shook her head. “I can’t imagine what it would be like being involved with a shrink. I mean, does he have an off switch, or is he basically on all the time?”

  Lucky smiled. “We’re working on the off switch.”

  Renae sat for long moments merely enjoying being in Lucky’s company. While the details of their past were different, she felt a connection with the other woman that she’d never felt with anyone else. Sure, she and Tabitha were close, but it had taken their friendship several years and many shared memories to be cultivated. In contrast, she and Lucky had clicked the first day Lucky had walked up to Women Only looking for a job.

  At any rate, with very few words she knew Lucky would understand where she was coming from in just about any situation, and the same went for her with Lucky. Neither one of them was completely comfortable discussing her feelings. And that mere fact made it easier for both of them to do it.

  “You know, it probably wouldn’t be easy living with an E.R. surgeon, either.”

  Renae’s gaze snapped to Lucky’s face. She pretended an over-interest in dipping the last of her potato chips into the leftover chili topping, but Renae wasn’t fooled.

  “I mean, there’s all that being on call. The long hours. The follow-ups during his down time.”

  “You seem to know an awful lot about E.R. docs,” she said carefully.

  Lucky’s grin was infectious. “That’s because I’ve been asking Colin a lot about them in case the information might come in handy.”

  “Hmm. Does he know about me and Will?”

  She nodded. “Seems Will told him.”

  Renae’s breath left her lungs. “Will told him?”

  “That’s what I said.”

  “What else did he say?” Renae felt ridiculously like she was in grade school talking about a guy she had a crush on.

  Lucky shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

  The restaurant owner came up to the table. Lucky greeted him.

  “You know all that fast food is no good for you. You should let me give you something else next time. Something Greek, maybe,” the Cypriot said with a friendly smile.<
br />
  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, then. You girls have a nice day, no?”

  “Yes,” Lucky said.

  “Eat here often?” Renae leaned forward. “What else did he say?”

  Lucky looked momentarily confused, then she backtracked to what they’d been talking about before the restaurant owner had come up. “I already told you, I don’t know. Colin held up his hands and refused to say anything else, you know, while wearing that expression that said he was afraid he’d already said too much.”

  Renae chewed on that as a waitress took their plates away then gave them each a piece of pie, compliments of Frixos Stylianides.

  She picked up her fork, toyed with the flaky top crust, then said, “Will and I are just like this piece of pie—”

  Lucky held up a forkful of whipped cream. “Don’t even start.”

  11

  WILL STOOD BEHIND the partially closed vertical blinds in his living room, watching as Renae parked her Cadillac convertible in the lot. She had the top down despite the heat, her sunglasses perched on the edge of her straight nose, her dark blond hair windblown and sexy, her skin glowing like warm honey in the afternoon sun.

  And damn if he didn’t want her more now than ever.

  He dry-washed his face with his hands. His continued powerful attraction to her didn’t make any sense to him. Sure, ever since she’d moved in six months ago, he’d had a thing for her, an intense physical reaction, although it was restricted to his fantasy life and at the time included her roommate, Tabitha.

  Then he’d slept with her.

  Well, that sentence was sorely lacking, wasn’t it? He hadn’t merely slept with her. He’d been lucky if he’d gotten a straight four hours of sleep ever since running into her by the mailboxes nearly a week ago (had it really only been a week?). At first his lack of shut-eye had been the result of their having sex—constantly.

  Now, however, his inability to saw some much-needed logs stemmed solely from his not having sex with her. If that made any sense. Which, of course, it didn’t. Because nothing about his life made much sense of late.

  Will watched as Renae went about taking grocery bags from the trunk then headed for the building without bothering to put the top up on her car. She wore a black tank that seemed to emphasize her deep tan, and white slacks that made him squint in case he could catch a glimpse of what she wore underneath. She looked good enough to eat and Will suddenly found himself ravenous.

  She pushed her glasses to sit on top of her pretty head and looked up at his window. Will stepped slightly back, although he couldn’t really say why. He grimaced as she moved out of sight, likely entering the building. Moments later he heard her footfalls on the steps in the hall. The rustling of her plastic grocery bags stopped just outside his door. Will waited. Would she knock?

  He heard the rustling again then shortly thereafter the closing of her condo door upstairs.

  Damn.

  Behind him the telephone began ringing. He stood for long moments, ignoring it, not up to another conversation with Janet should it happen to be her. But the caller was persistent and somewhere around the tenth ring he stepped into the dining room and picked up the extension.

  “Willem?”

  Relief suffused Will’s muscles when he identified the caller as his mother. Though his name was William, she’d always left out a vowel and changed another.

  “Hallo, Mum,” he greeted, easily falling back to his native accent. Not that he made an effort otherwise, but his speech pattern naturally blended with those around him when he was in the States. “How’s everything?”

  “Fine, fine. With you?”

  Will paused. And the instant he did so, he knew he’d live to regret it. “Fine. Couldn’t be better.”

  He cringed. Even worse, the overdoing it part.

  “Mmm. That’s interesting. Because judging from the sound of your voice, it’s anything but. Come on. Be a dear and tell your ole mum what’s happening in your life.”

  Dorothy Sexton had five children, of which he was the middle child. He was the only one to leave England, and each of his siblings had not only stayed close by the family, they now had families of their own, including his youngest sister, Nancy, who had married last year and was due her first child any day now.

  “Nothing much, you know. The same old, actually. Has Nancy dropped the bun yet?”

  “Nancy’s as big as an overstuffed sofa and just as uncomfortable. And quit trying to change the subject.”

  Will smiled as he sat down at the kitchen table.

  Even though they were an ocean apart, and it was two in the afternoon by his watch and 7:00 p.m. in London, the clear sound of her voice made it seem like she was right next door. “It’s nothing, really. Just some things happening at work.”

  “The doctor of the family is having problems, is he?”

  While two of his siblings had pursued higher education, he was the only one to go as far as he had, mostly on scholarship and a mountain of student loans he’d just managed to pay off a year or so ago. While he was usually quite proud of what he’d accomplished, it never took more than a few words from his mother to remind him of his roots and his family and how he was still just the middle Sexton child from Southwark to her.

  “You see, I’ve been after this promotion for some time now and I fear I may never achieve it.”

  He wouldn’t go into detail about why. The whole Janet-Renae issue would only confuse her and he was half afraid she’d be on the next plane over if she thought that either of them might be wife material. Which was funny, because none of his family had come to visit him. As far as they were concerned, he was on the other side of the world, not a five-hour plane trip away.

  Then again, he hadn’t been home more than once a year for a week or two himself. And for some reason the thought suddenly made him sad.

  “Hang in there, my boy. If there’s one thing I know for sure in this world it’s that whatever my Willem wants, my Willem gets.”

  He grinned at the familiar refrain, sometimes said in exasperation, most often with pride.

  “Thanks, Mum. I guess I needed to hear that.” He shifted in the chair. “So tell me, what did you have for dinner today?”

  “It’s Friday so we had shepherd’s pie, of course. Your da’s favorite.”

  Will closed his eyes, imagining the cramped Sexton kitchen with its old Formica table and red-plastic covered chairs, the room redolent with the smell of lamb and thick mashed potatoes. Of course, it would be only his mum and his da there now, the kids all gone, but two Sundays a month the whole family still gathered at the small flat for roast beef, Yorkshire pudding and two veg for dinner.

  For the first time in his years in America, he genuinely missed home.

  “If I recall correctly, shepherd’s pie used to be your favorite, as well,” his mother said. “But that’s probably changed to a Burger Mac and, what do they call chips? Fries. Yes, fries, I think.”

  Will perked right up, as he suspected his mother knew he would. “On the contrary, I have fish ’n’ chips for lunch nearly every other day. And I’ll also have you know that I’ve been known to whip up quite a hotpot every now and again….”

  And so it went, his mother challenging him on forgotten traditions and him defending himself. And for a short little while Will managed to forget about Renae and Janet and work and concentrated solely on his mother and everything he loved about her and England.

  RENAE STOOD INSIDE her condo door and took a deep breath. Merely coming home anymore was awkward. She’d known Will was in his apartment, his behemoth of a SUV was parked right up front in the lot. Just knowing he was in the same building, that only a couple of doors separated them, sent her hormones into overdrive.

  Or was it her hormones?

  “There’s someone I haven’t seen much of lately.”

  Renae automatically smiled at Tabitha who had craned her neck from where she sat on the living-room couch to look at her.

 
“Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself. Why don’t you go put that stuff away and come sit with me? I don’t know about you, but I’m going into chat withdrawal.”

  It took Renae a whole two minutes to put the few items she’d picked up at the market away—milk, juice, eggs, a loaf of bread. She tucked the plastic bags into the recycling bin then grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge and walked into the living room. The hideous pillows and throws aside, Tabitha had created a room that felt comfortable the instant you entered it. She sank down onto the faux suede couch beside her friend and handed her the other soda. Luckily Nina was nowhere in sight.

  Tabby thanked her then said, “So tell me what’s going on in Renae’s world.”

  Renae stared at her. It seemed odd that so much had happened in such a short period of time. Or maybe it hadn’t and she was making a big deal out of it.

  She thought about the proposal she had tucked away for Women Only. It seemed strange that her best friend, the woman she shared a condo with, didn’t know a thing about it.

  “You still having sex with the sexy doc downstairs?”

  Renae settled deeper into the cushions and crossed her legs. “No. That ended a couple of days ago.”

  After her and Lucky’s conversation today at lunch, she found herself thinking of what her mother’s reaction would be to the news that she was sleeping with a surgeon. No doubt, Daisy Truesdale would be overjoyed that her daughter had landed herself a doctor. Then again, she might not even bat an eye at the news. After all, the Truesdale women knew how to bag a man with deep pockets.

  She shuddered.

  “Wow, that must have been some thought.”

  Renae blinked Tabitha’s face back into focus. “Sorry. I guess I’m not very good company today.”

  Tabitha leaned her arm against Renae’s. “Who said you’re good company at any other time?”

  Renae smiled. “Our long-standing friendship, maybe?”

  “Yes. I guess that would be proof.”

  They sat that way for long moments, neither of them saying anything as Renae reflected on the many years she’d known Tabitha. And how she might bring up her suspicions about Nina without alienating her friend and jeopardizing their friendship.