A Little Wild (17 page)

Tess exchanged guarded glances with her two younger sisters. “Having an affair” was Mom-lingo for “I feel ignored”.

“What’s Dad done this time?” Randi asked. Golden highlights brightened her light brown hair—the same shade as their father’s. What was left of his, anyway. Tess and Jenna had inherited their strawberry-blonde tones from Mom.

“It’s what he
hasn’t
done, dear.” Complaint rather than hurt edged their mother’s voice. “He hasn’t touched me in months.”

Oh brother.
Tess held her breath. Another evening of hearing about their parents’ substandard love lives? What had happened to good old-fashioned Catholic pretense that sex didn’t exist?

Usually, Tess could handle her mother’s bouts of neediness. However, her family didn’t often meet midweek, and at dinner her father had announced their celebration of Tess’s success with Sydney van Hoyt. Yet, tension—not joy—had permeated the evening, her mother bemoaning everything from the aggravation of the dishwasher repairs, to that their father spent too much time at the office, to how she wanted to travel to Italy next spring, but he was balking.

After dessert, Dad had escaped to the den. Tess couldn’t blame him. While she realized her mother was upset, her mother was always upset, and the more Mom harped about Dad’s deficiencies, the longer he stayed glued to the TV.

Jenna passed their mother another dried coffee cup. “Plenty of married couples go through dry spells, Mom. That doesn’t mean he’s having an affair.”

Mom harrumphed. “There was a time he couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

Tess mumbled, “A few years have passed.”

“Your Aunt Jane and Uncle Howie still make love every Tuesday.”

Go Aunt Jane.
“Maybe Aunt Jane is exaggerating.” Her mom and aunt were fierce competitors.

Randi rinsed the last plate and passed it to Tess for drying. “Mom, you should talk to Dad. If you honestly believe something’s wrong, ask him.”

Their mother produced a long-suffering sigh. “It would make no difference, Miranda. Nothing ever changes.” She took the last plate from Tess and put it away. The cupboard door swung closed. “I need to fold laundry. You girls stay here and catch up.”

“I’ll come with you.” Tess patted her mom’s shoulder. Difficult though her mother was at times, she loved her and wanted to help her.

“No, Tessie, stay with your sisters. I’m sorry, girls. I shouldn’t burden you. Your father and I were crazy about each other once. I just want his attention. Is that too much to ask?”

Tess and her sisters knew better than to answer. Over the years, it had become painfully apparent that no matter how much affection their father displayed, their mother craved more.

Their unhappy mother left the kitchen. Her footfalls padded downstairs to the laundry.

Randi drained the sink while Jenna retrieved the cookies. All three sisters sat at the Mexican-pine table. They looked at each other, then at the unopened Oreo package, then at each other again.

Finally, Randi said, “Maybe it’s true this time.”

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t believe it.”

“It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. Granted, we’re talking way before. How long has it been since Dad’s sicko friendship with Darla? Ten years?”

“Nine,” Tess murmured. She glanced toward the den. The door remained closed. “And he didn’t sleep with Darla,” she whispered. “He cared for her, but he wasn’t unfaithful.” Regardless of the absence of sex in the relationship, their father had hurt their mother terribly. Tess couldn’t imagine experiencing that kind of pain. “I was eighteen. I straight-out asked him how far things had gone with Darla, and he told me. Why would he lie at that point?”

Randi shrugged. “Who knows?”

Jenna opened the Oreo package. “Whatever he did or didn’t do with that D woman is in the past. Supposedly, Mom forgave him, but she won’t let him forget.”

Randi added, “No matter how hard he tries, she’s never satisfied.”

“He gives her everything she wants,” Jenna murmured.

“Except what she wants most—his love.” Tess rubbed the tabletop. “Think about it. He told Mom he thought he might be falling in love with someone else.”

“But he ended it, right?” Randi asked. “To fix things with Mom.”

“That’s the story.”

Jenna sighed. “Our family’s a mess.” She doled out a cookie to each sister. In unison, they peeled the chocolate halves from the creamy, white centers.

“It’s no wonder none of us wants to fall in love,” Tess muttered.

“Or
think
we’ve fallen in love.” Jenna licked her cookie. “Mom
says
she loves Dad, but I think she loves what he can give her.”

“That might be a product of the situation,” Randi commented. “Maybe, deep down, Mom’s always realized he married her because she was pregnant. So she figured if she was a good-enough wife, kept a clean house and raised three perfect kids, she’d win his love. It only makes sense that she’d want her own surface trappings in return.”

“But true love can’t be forced,” Tess said.

Randi and Jenna nodded.

Jenna asked, “Are we the only grown kids in the world who wouldn’t mind if their parents got divorced? I’m telling you, no way will I allow a guy to victimize me like Mom has. Only boy-toys for me, and
never
have sex without protection.”

“Protection can fail, Jenn.” Tess bit a chocolate-cookie half.

“That’s why I’m on the Pill, use condoms and still insist Aaron pulls out.”

“Aaron’s the current boy-toy?” Randi asked.

Jenna’s blue eyes widened. “And how.”

Tess smiled. Jenna’s plan sounded remarkably familiar. Except Jenna was going for the gusto right now, whereas Tess’s boy-toy fantasies remained rooted in the far-off future. But for how long?

Zach Halliday was a tempting diversion, and she so wanted to give in.

“Zach darling, you made it!”

Zach glanced over his shoulder. He’d entered the art gallery moments ago. Already, Sydney van Hoyt homed in on him, her thin arms outstretched like a hawk winging down on its prey. Her fake British accent cut above the crowd’s chatter. Pearls, diamonds and rubies dripped from her neck, wrists, fingers and ears. A crystal champagne flute tipped precariously in one hand.

She swooped in for a double air kiss. “How delightful that you could come!” She flourished her champagne glass toward the interior of the art gallery situated in one of the century-old houses that had survived downtown Vancouver’s rapid growth. By some miracle, she didn’t spill the bubbly. “Absolutely everyone who is anyone is here, Zach! I’m thrilled, and Teddy is thrilled for me. My first show at van Hoyt’s Downtown is a success!”

Zach surveyed the main room. Several patrons sampled the free drinks and
hors d’œuvres
, although a few inspected the paintings. From this distance, the artwork appeared as garish as Sydney’s booty.

He indicated her three necklaces. “Nice gems.”

She laughed. “Zach, you silly, the show is titled Extravagance, and I’m extravagance itself, am I not?” She twirled, the baubles clinking. “Rodney loved the idea.”

“Rodney?”

“The artist, Rodney Post. Surely, you’ve heard of him?” She waved a bejeweled hand. “No worries, I’ll introduce you later. Teddy has him occupied with some
très importantes
at the moment, and I have more guests to greet, so mingle, mingle, prepare to jingle your pockets, and buy, buy, buy!” She swooped toward the door again. “Louisa, Jonathon! How delightful that you could come!”

Zach lost himself in the crowd. When Sydney began mangling French and Spanish, it was time to vamoose. Besides, he hadn’t come to see Sydney. Only one woman’s presence at the art gallery interested him, and he didn’t even know if she was here.

Tess.

Five restless nights had passed since their humdinger of a kiss in her apartment. Only the dry fuck hadn’t expelled Zach’s need for her, as it might have with any other woman. All week, memories of her scent, heat and satin mouth had consumed him.

Thoughts of wanting her had tortured him. As had fantasies of having her.

Since Sunday, they’d spoken twice over the phone, but only about Climbing The Walls.

He’d said the next move would be hers. Well, he’d lied.

Because he couldn’t survive another day without seeing her. Without touching her, kissing her, eventually thrusting his cock deep inside her.

Sex was the only way he knew to rid this burning desire for her from his blood.

But he had to find her first. Where was she?

He maneuvered through a wall of well-dressed bodies.

Blake Ashton smiled at him. “Hey, Zach. I thought you weren’t coming.”

They shook hands. “Blake. How are you?” A voluptuous blonde hung onto Blake’s arm. Charlotte Meyers. She and Zach had dated a few times, so Zach knew what Blake was in for—a whole lot of Charlotte passively lying there, thinking her double D’s were enough. “Charlotte, you look stunning, as usual.”

She beamed. No bad blood existed between them. Charlotte wasn’t the long-haul type.

Zach glanced around for Tess. “I thought you weren’t coming, either,” he said without looking at Blake. “We have a climb tomorrow.”

“Charlotte wanted to. We can push back the trip an hour.”

“Huh?” Zach scanned the gallery again. “Yeah, okay.”

Blake grinned. “You’re in dreamland, buddy.”

“Sorry. I’m looking for someone.”

“Let me guess. A woman.”

A glimpse of red-gold hair entered his line of vision. “It looks like I just found her. Excuse me, Blake, Charlotte.” He tipped a hand. “Catch you later.”

He moved through the crowd, an odd sensation gathering in his chest. Tess stood four meters away, a group of suits hanging on her every word.

What was it about her? Yes, she was intelligent, sexy and beautiful, but he’d dated innumerable smart, sexy women.

However, like Charlotte, those women had represented the chase to him. Tess was more than a chase.

How much more, he’d yet to determine.

But he would.

The sight of her drew him as if he were hypnotized. His rear view of her sexy, slim body revealed the plunging lines of her ice-blue dress. Delicate straps crisscrossed her spine, and the loosely tied bow begged a guy to touch her pale skin and explore the slippery fabric draping her ass. Her hair was swept up into a graceful style with waves crowning her head and tiny curls kissing her neck. A compact, silver evening bag hung from one lightly freckled shoulder.

As Zach neared her, the guy on her right placed a hand on her hip. The asshole’s fingers slid across the small of her back. Miss Strawberry politely nudged the wandering appendage, and the errant hand skittered away.

Zach fought like hell not to feel possessive.

She looked like a movie star with her entourage.

But she wasn’t a silver-screen fantasy. She was very real.

And he wanted her.

Chapter Eleven

Tess tried to muster interest in Daniel Scofield’s conversation, but the advertising executive blathered about some boring new account. Since when had talking shop with her platonic male friends grown so tiresome? True, fending off Paul McMillan’s unexpected advances was a little wearing, but she could manage Paul. He’d probably drunk too much and had mistaken her proximity for romantic interest. Although, come to think of it, he’d never misinterpreted her motives before.

Maybe it was her dress. She sipped her champagne while Daniel jawed along to Paul’s, Richard’s and Kevin Ambrose’s nodding. Usually, she selected conservative outfits for business gatherings. However, tonight was different, because tonight she’d dressed for Zach.

In case he decided to come.

If he showed up, she’d take it as a sign to overlook her concerns about mixing personal and professional relationships—for once—and cut loose.
With him.
If he didn’t put in an appearance, she’d forget their insane attraction and refocus her energies on work.

Did she ever need to. All week, her concentration at the office had suffered. She had to do
something
to placate her neglected inner nympho. And she wanted to do it with Zach Halliday, no one else.

Zach, who wouldn’t place her in danger of confusing sex with love.

Zach, who’d fuck her brainless and leave her oh-so-satisfied.
Yes.

A movement to her left snared her attention. Her heart stumbled in her chest.
He’s here.
No one else affected her this strongly.
Relax.
Stay calm.

Smile shaky, she faced him. “Zach. Hi.”

“Hello, Teresa.” His responding grin crinkled his eyes. He wore a tie and dress shirt, and it wasn’t lost on her that he’d used her formal name in this business-related setting.

She made room for him in the group. “I thought you had an early climb tomorrow.”

“I talked to Blake. We pushed it back.”

A wave of pleasure warmed her. “Let me introduce you.” She started with his end of the group. “Daniel Scofield is with McKitrick Advertising, Richard Newton works with Bertrand Financial, and Kevin Ambrose and Paul McMillan are with Dundleberry.”

Zach shook each man’s hand. “Dundleberry?” he asked Paul. “The accounting firm?”

Paul nodded. “And you are again?”

“Zach Halliday.”

“Zach is with Halliday Enterprises, Paul.” As per their agreement, Tess didn’t mention Climbing The Walls.

Resentment flickered in Paul’s eyes. “Halliday? I’ve heard of you.”

“Nothing good, I hope,” Zach quipped.

Paul snorted. “Word is you’re pissing away time and money at your daddy’s company. A million opportunities, and you’re wasting them.”

Zach cut Paul a patient, I-could-eat-you-for-breakfast-if-I-
wanted
-to smile. “That’s me.”

Paul sneered. “Must be rough.”

Tess gaped. “Paul, that’s highly inappropriate!”

Richard, Daniel and Kevin must have thought so, too. Her three friends drifted away, mumbling about looking at the paintings.

Zach shrugged. “Teresa, I’m inappropriate at the best of times, so don’t sweat it.”

How could he brush off Paul’s insults? “I don’t care. It’s—”