by Linda Wisdom
“Just some healthy sex, huh?” he said bluntly.
“Stow it, Tank,” Jill advised a bit too kindly, although her eyes betrayed a dangerous glitter. “You’re treading on unsafe ground. There could even be land mines ahead.”
The older man smiled, reaching out to pat her shoulder. “Thanks, I just got my answer.” He stood up and replaced the chair in its rightful place. “I’ll send you two another drink.”
“You trying to out-drink me after all?” Greg asked as he slid into his chair.
Jill shook her head. She dragged on her cigarette and stubbed it out in the ashtray.
Greg watched her every movement as if afraid she might disappear before his eyes. What was going through her head right now? She acted agitated, and he guessed Tank was the cause but he knew he wouldn’t get an explanation out of either one of them.
“Let’s go home,” he entreated huskily, grabbing hold of her hand. “I’m tired of sharing you with other people.”
Home. It was amazing how one word could sound so good to her. She wondered if it shouldn’t have a deeper meaning than just a house they shared.
“Do you know something?” she murmured, tracing a pattern on the inner skin of his wrist with her fingernail. She raised shining eyes that were filled with promise. At that moment the raucous talk and music echoing through the room dissolved around them until they were the only two people left in the world. “I have this black lace nightgown I’d like to wear for you. Of course, there’s not a lot of lace, or much of anything else, but …”
Greg tugged on her hand and pulled her out of her chair and out of the bar.
Jill never had a chance to show off her nightgown that night, much less wear it.
CHAPTER TEN
Two days later Jill rummaged through her apartment, and when she came up empty-handed, she headed downstairs to search her office.
“Lose your favorite paper clip?” Greg inquired, sauntering into her office.
“No.” Jill pulled open a drawer and flung papers over her shoulder until she reached the bottom.
He shrugged as if her erratic behavior was nothing unusual at ten o’clock in the morning.
“I’m going down to the store for some coffee and bread. Do you need anything?” he asked, interested in the way her rust wool sweater pulled away from the waistband of her jeans and revealed a creamy expanse of bare skin. His fingers itched to trace that same area, as he had done so many nights.
Jill’s head snapped up. “Greg, you’re a lifesaver,” she said, now opening another drawer and pulling out some money. “Would you pick up a carton of cigarettes for me? I’m completely out.”
Greg made a sound of disgust. “You can’t even last out the morning, can you? Next thing you know you’ll be suffering from a nicotine fit. I’d sure love to see a color picture of your lungs.”
Jill’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders thrust back and her stance wide in preparation for battle. “You make it sound as if I was some kind of addict.” She spoke softly, her hands resting lightly on her hips. “I’ll have you know that if I wanted to quit smoking, I could do it just like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“Then do it,” he dared.
“I have no reason to want to quit,” she hedged. “My doctor said I’m very healthy, and I’m certainly not a heavy smoker.”
Greg stepped forward, nudging Jill until she was backed against the wall, imprisoned by an arm on either side of her shoulders.
“Coward,” he jeered softly, inclining his face into hers.
Jill blinked, afraid her eyes would cross if Greg’s face drew any closer. “I’m not a coward. I couldn’t dance as much as I do if I didn’t have healthy lungs and no respiratory problems. There’s no reason for me to quit, but if there were, I could easily give it up.”
“Prove it.” His breath warmed her lips.
Jill raised her chin a fraction of an inch. “Why should I?” she challenged.
A slow smile broke across Greg’s lips. One hand moved until his thumbs grazed her soft, wool-covered shoulder. “We could always bet on it.”
“Bet what?” She looked suspicious that he was so amiable all of a sudden.
“Dinner.” Jill relaxed. That didn’t sound so bad. “If you quit smoking for six months, I’ll take you out to dinner to any restaurant of your choice. If you sneak a cigarette during that time, you’ll take me,” Greg explained.
“Piece of cake.” She couldn’t feel more confident about it.
“And the winner chooses where we eat,” he reminded her.
“Fine by me.”
“Good, because I choose Paris,” he announced, looking much too smug.
“Paris!” Jill shrieked, pushing Greg away. “And I suppose I’m expected to pay the air fare also?”
“I was willing to pay cab fare for you,” he retorted innocently.
Jill stalked across the room, hesitated, turned on her heel and faced Greg with her temper threatening to erupt like an angry volcano at any moment.
“You really don’t think I can do it, do you?”
“I think you can do anything you set your mind to. The trouble is, you’re easily bored the moment the challenge is gone,” he replied. “This is something you’re going to have to stick to no matter what.”
“Meaning you honestly don’t believe I can quit smoking for six months. I guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong, won’t I?” She tossed her head, looking up with a haughty smile on her lips. “I accept your bet.” She stuck out her hand. “Shall we shake on it, or do you want my promise in writing so you can have it notarized?”
Greg chuckled, moving forward until he stood in front of her. “Oh, no, babe, I have my own method of sealing our bargain,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms and settling his mouth on hers. For long moments his lips angled over hers in tantalizing caresses until a soft whimper sounded deep in Jill’s throat. Greg lifted his head until their lips barely touched. “That’s the way to seal a bargain.”
“Mmm.” Jill’s fingers dug into his scalp, drawing him back for more. “I think we should discuss the terms further.”
By evening Jill was still convinced that going without a cigarette would be easy. After dinner they played Trivial Pursuit, which Greg easily won, and they retired to bed after a leisurely shower. The more confident Jill felt about the bet, the more fun she had debating exotic dinner destinations.
“Hong Kong would be nice,” she mused, lying in the warm circle of Greg’s arms after their lovemaking.
“For what?” he asked sleepily, shifting his weight until he lay on his side.
“For my dinner, of course.”
“Don’t be so sure of yourself. You’ve got roughly one hundred and seventy-nine more days to go,” Greg reminded her. “Look how upset you were just this morning when you realized you had run out of cigarettes.”
“I’ll do it; you’ll see. Let me seeâVienna has great food. So does Madrid. I’ve always been curious to see Lisbon.” She tapped her fingertip against her chin.
Greg sighed. All he wanted to do was sleep, and Jill was already planning her success. It wasn’t that he thought she was weak; she was stronger than many men he knew. No, it was just that smoking was one of her pleasures and she wasn’t a woman to give up her pleasures easily. He was just glad they weren’t giving up sex!
“Go to sleep,” he ordered, stifling a yawn. “You’ve got plenty of time to plan your victory. And believe me, I’d like nothing more than to take you to Moscow for dinner if that’s where you want to go”
The following day Jill suffered a few urges for a cigarette, but nothing she couldn’t stop by nibbling on a candy bar. She knew she’d have to stop her pacifier method soon, before the extra calories caught up with her. In self-defense she signed up for an additional dance class.
By the end of one week Jill was well on her way to feeling like a raving maniac.
“Can’t we ever get any sun around here?” she grumbled, staring out her office win
dow at the heavy fog that covered the glass like a wool blanket. “This is the Sunshine State, or did the weather bureau miss that particular piece of information?”
“What happened to your love for all our spooky fog?” Greg questioned, perching his hip on a corner of her desk.
“Who could love anything so vile?” Jill scoffed, digging into a bright yellow ceramic bowl filled with shelled sunflower seeds and popping several into her mouth. “Fog is for Sherlock Holmes and Sam Spade.”
“Yes, it does fit the image, doesn’t it?” Greg agreed mildly.
Jill silently decided that his easygoing, get-along-with-Jill manner was getting on her nerves. Every time she tried to pick an argument with him, he merely smiled and allowed her taunts to roll off his back as easily as water flowed off a duck. A bit of primal scream therapy would come in handy about now, she decided silently.
“You know, Greg, there have been days when I haven’t liked you very much,” she told him in a semi-sweet, honeyed tone. “But that’s nothing compared to what I’m feeling toward you right now.”
Greg nodded, as if he had expected her confession. “It’s just nicotine withdrawal,” he assured her. “Honey, you get this way once a month anyway, so it’s nothing new to me.”
“Once a month?” Jill shrieked, throwing her hands up in horror. She advanced on him with murder in her eyes. “Why, youâyou chauvinist of the first degree. Just because you were bom a male, you figure the slightest change in a woman’s emotions is due to a biological function. People like you are the reason the pill was invented!” Her voice rose shrilly with each word.
Greg winced. He wondered how long Jill’s tantrums were going to last, because he found that his patience was running dangerously low with each passing day. “You’re hitting below the belt with that one, sweetheart,” he warned softly.
“You got it, buster!”
“Look, I understand that you’re feeling a bit irritable …” A bit? Last night they had gone out for Chinese food and it wasn’t until they ordered that Jill announced she would have preferred Mexican. “But soon this testy mood will be all over and you’ll be back to your old lovable self again,” he concluded cheerfully. Please, be back to your old lovable self very soon! he thought desperately.
Jill’s smile put Greg on the defensive. “Perhaps I’m better off this way. Who knows, you just might beg me to call off the bet.”
Greg shook his head, guessing her devious intent. “No way, lady. I intend to support you in this all the way.”
“Don’t be so nice to me, Greg,” she advised, her eyes glittering with their own battle signs. “In fact, you’ve been so sweet and amiable that I’m getting cavities just being around you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a lunch date with Evelyne.” With her back straight and head held high, she stalked off to her apartment.
Greg hid his smile until Jill was out of sight. She was magnificent when she was incensed. With each passing day she proved to be less tractable, but he was determined to see this through with her. He had a strong feeling that the next six months were going to seem more like six centuries.
Jill changed into an ecru silk shirt and soft green plaid skirt that just brushed the top of her taupe leather high-heeled boots. She draped two of her favorite gold chains around the blouse neckline and topped it with a blazer that matched her skirt. She had allowed her hair to curl riotously with only a comb along each side for control. She glanced at her bedroom clock and knew she’d have to hurry not to be late. She added a glossy coral lipstick and left the house.
“I’m surprised you’re not having me swear a blood oath before I leave the house,” she said waspishly when Greg followed her downstairs to the garage.
“I thought about it, but I figured I could trust you.” He smiled, leaning against the passenger door of his car.
The expression in Jill’s eyes told him her opinion of his reply. “Keep it up and I’ll invite my mother for a long visit,” she uttered her threat in a silky voice.
Greg shuddered at the thought, but knew she would never carry it out. “You’d never do that to me. You can’t get along with her after two minutes in her company.”
“Don’t bet on it,” she replied succinctly, activating the electric garage door opener and opening her car door. She backed out and swung onto the street with her last view of Greg waving and telling her to have a good time.
By the time Jill met Evelyne at a café not far from the financial district, her mood had lightened considerably.
“I like your outfit,” Evelyne greeted her, resembling an exotic bird in a peacock and fuchsia plaid skirt and a peacock silk blouse. A shawl matching her skirt was slung rakishly over one shoulder. “How is it going?”
Jill’s smile felt very tight on her face. “Just fine.”
“Good afternoon. Would you care for smoking or nonsmoking?” the hostess asked.
“Non,” Evelyne said swiftly, seeing the look of desperation on Jill’s face.
Since the morning fog had lifted, they were led outside to a patio area and seated amid leafy green plants. The two women accepted the menus and opened them to peruse the contents.
“The spinach quiche sounds good,” Evelyne commented, looking up.
Jill stared at the menu as if the words meant her life or death. Holding the large dark blue pasteboard up slightly, she carefully scanned the other diners seated nearby. Her stealth would have been applauded by a private detective as she checked out each occupied chair. She inched up until only her eyes were seen above the menu.
“Evelyne,” she whispered.
Her friend looked up, surprised at the urgency coloring Jill’s voice.
“Do you have any cigarettes on you?” she asked, keeping her voice low, as if afraid of being overheard.
“Jill, you know I don’t smoke,” Evelyne replied.
“But you could go out to the lounge and buy a pack,” Jill insisted.
âNo, I couldn’t.”
“Yes, you could,” Jill hissed, laying her menu down and placing her hands on top of it.
“Oh, Jill.” Evelyneâs smile was as benign as the one Greg had been giving her the past few days. “You know you can’t do that,” she spoke to Jill the way she would speak to a small child. “After all, you and Greg made a bet, and you don’t want to lose it, do you? That’s why we all want to help you.”
Jill sighed as the significance of Evelyneâs words sunk in. “Just who all knows about this bet of the century?”
“Everyone listed in your address book.”
Jill groaned. “Everyone?”
Evelyne nodded. “From Karen Adams to Jeanie Zach. You don’t have a chance in trying to cheat. Deep down you don’t really want to anyway.”
Jill groaned again.
“Jill.” Evelyneâs voice portrayed disapproval. “You wouldn’t really try to cheat, would you?”
She sighed, knowing very well she couldn’t because to do so meant betraying Greg’s trust and she could never hurt him in that way. She smiled and shook her head. “No, I’d never do it,” she murmured, then quickly brightened. “How’s your love life?” The look on Evelyneâs face gave Jill her answer. “Aha! Obviously the two of you are getting along very well,” she teased, enjoying making her friend blush. “Have you set the date yet?”
“Give us some time,” she begged. “Besides, you and Greg will probably tie the knot before we do.”
“What gives you that idea?” Jill asked carelessly, although she experienced a twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach at the idea of marrying Greg. It wasn’t an unpleasant idea; in fact, it sounded very good. That was the problem, since Greg could very well have been the man who invented the word bachelor.
“What are you having to eat, Jill?” Evelyne broke into her thoughts.
“Huh?” Her head shot up. “Oh, I’ll have the chicken and mushroom crepes, a small salad with your parmesan dressing and white wine,” she mumbled, handing the menu to the waiter.
“He’s fine,” Jill evaded. “In fact, the new outline will be finished this week.”
Her friend shook her head. “Come on, Jill, when are you going to own up that you love him?”
Jill almost dropped the water glass she had picked up. “You make it sound like a disease,” she retorted.
“For two people who reportedly enjoy their freedom, you both now spend all your time together instead of the eighty percent you used to. You might as well get married. Look at it as a tax deduction,” Evelyne quipped.
“I won’t be just a tax break for anyone,” Jill muttered. From there her mood went rapidly downhill. After eating and listening to Evelyne advise her to indulge in some heavy thinking, Jill chose retain therapy. But even that forced her to think about Greg and the time they had been interviewed for a writers’ magazine. When asked if they had any hobbies, Greg had cheerfully informed the woman that Jill’s hobby was buying clothes.
By the time she returned home she had enough packages to fill the backseat of her car.
“Ah, we’ve cleaned out the stores again, have we?” Greg eyed the many bags in Jill’s arms when she passed his office.
“Yes, and there’re more in the car,” she informed him.
He took the hint. “Right away, milady.”
Jill was busy hanging up her purchases when Greg entered her bedroom with the rest of the bags.
“I think you’ll need another closet.” He dropped the packages on the bed.
“Not all of it is for me,” Jill announced smugly, searching through the bags until she found the one she wanted. She drew out a bright red and white box with a white ribbon tied in a saucy bow on top. She suddenly felt very shy, although this wasn’t the first time she had brought him a surprise. “This is for you.” She refused to look at his face.
