Can't Get Enough (10 page)

BARBARA WAS SLIPPING into her terry-cloth bathrobe when Bradford walked into the bedroom wearing one of his favorite Brioni suits and bearing a tray covered with a white linen napkin. On the tray sat their finest bone china, piled high with bacon, eggs Benedict, wheat toast, and freshly squeezed orange juice. The smell of her favorite coffee, Jamaica Blue Mountain, filled the air. In the center of the tray was a sterling silver bud vase with a single red rose.

“Oh, my,” Barbara exclaimed, as she hopped back onto the bed. She clasped her hands together as he carefully placed the tray in front of her. “This is so sweet of you.”

He leaned down and kissed her on the lips. “Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

Barbara smiled. “Thank you. I wasn’t expecting anything special today. You already gave me the car.”

“Never underestimate your old man.” He removed a small Tiffany box from the inside pocket of his suit and presented it to her with a grand bow.

“Goodness, Bradford. You didn’t!” She opened the box to find a pair of platinum and diamond stud earrings. “Oh, they’re precious.”

“Two carats each,” he said with pride as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Like ’em?”

“I love them.”

“Good. ’Cause they go with this.” He reached into another pocket and pulled out a second Tiffany box, this one long and narrow.

Barbara put her hand over her heart. “I don’t believe you, Bradford.”

He smiled at her as she opened the long narrow box and lifted out a platinum and diamond tennis bracelet. She gasped. “Oh, Bradford. It’s gorgeous.”

“Here, let me help you put it on.” He took the bracelet from her, and she held out her arm. After he fastened the clasp, she held the bracelet up and admired it. “Thank you. It’s lovely. Did you fix all of this food yourself?”

“Let’s not go that far,” Bradford said as he straightened his red silk necktie.

Barbara chuckled and took a sip of coffee. “Oh, so Phyllis did the cooking?”

“Hey, I supervised. I planned the menu. I picked out the gifts.”

“Well, it’s the thought that counts. Thank you, again, Bradford. This is the best birthday I’ve had in ages.”

He sat down next to her on the bed and gently took her hands. “I know I’m not the easiest man to live with, Barb. Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my work, it must seem like I forget about you, but I don’t.” He squeezed her hands. “So, what do you have planned for your fifty-first birthday?”

Barbara blinked. The question took her by surprise. Bradford rarely asked her how she was going to spend her day. She was also startled to hear the age fifty-one mentioned along with her name. It sounded strange. She shivered. “Ugh. Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I’m . . . um . . . that age.”

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t look a day over thirty-five, Barb. It’s uncanny how young you still look.”

“Thank you, Bradford. I work hard at it.”

He released her hands. “So? What are your plans for today?”

“Oh, right. Well, normally I’d be going to the club to work out and then to the office. But I’m going to stay in today and catch up on some reading. I may go to Pearl’s salon later for a pedicure.”

“What about that literary board you sit on that usually meets in D.C. around the first week of the month?”

“That’s tomorrow. Today I want to relax and pamper myself.”

“Good.” He kissed her on the forehead and stood up. “Enjoy your breakfast and the rest of your day, sweetheart. I’m having an early dinner with a client, but I want us to spend a nice romantic evening together. Maybe pop a bottle of Cristal.”

So he had a dinner meeting? Well, that wasn’t really unusual. Bradford was always meeting clients. “Sounds good to me. I look forward to it.”

He leaned over and kissed her again, and Barbara watched as he strolled across the carpet and out the door. She held up her new bracelet. It was moments like this that reminded her why she had stayed with Bradford through all the ups and downs. He could be so sweet and generous when he wanted to be.

She finished her breakfast and reached into her nightstand for a fresh pack of Benson & Hedges. The phone rang and she wiped her hands on the linen napkin and picked the phone up.

“Hi, Mom, happy birthday.” It was her eldest daughter, Robin.

“Hi, baby. And thanks. Are you at work?”

“Yes. How would you and Dad like to come into D.C. for dinner this evening to celebrate your birthday?”

Barbara smiled. Robin had just started working in downtown D.C. after completing her master’s degree at the University of Maryland. Bradford had wanted Robin to come and work for him at his company, Digitech, but Robin wanted to strike out on her own. She’d found a job at an information technology firm and bought a condo near Chinatown. It was probably one of Bradford’s biggest disappointments, since he almost always got what he wanted one way or the other.

Barbara secretly admired Robin’s independence. Barbara had gotten married before finishing college and was pregnant with Robin within a month. She had worked briefly when she and Bradford were first married while he got his business off the ground. But when he landed his first million-dollar contract, she quit work to stay home with the children.

“Your father is meeting a client for dinner, but I’d love to come.”

“Good. Rebecca’s leaving work early, so she can stop by and pick you up. We’ll go someplace special for dinner. Maybe B. Smith’s since that’s your favorite restaurant.”

Rebecca was the baby, although heaven help Barbara if Rebecca ever heard her say that. She was twenty-six years old and had been married for two years now. She and her husband had just bought a small house in Lake Arbor, not far from Silver Lake.

“Wonderful. It’ll give me an excuse to wear the new diamond bracelet and earrings your father just gave me.”

“Another set?” Robin said teasingly. “You’re going to have to open a jewelry boutique if this keeps up.”

Barbara laughed. “A woman can never have too much jewelry. What time do you want us to meet you downtown?”

“Say six o’clock? At B. Smith’s?”

Barbara hung up the phone feeling like the luckiest woman alive. She had a husband who was really trying to make their lives better and two attentive daughters. And she was sober. This was the best birthday she could remember in years. It was perfect, maybe too perfect.

Barbara shook that thought from her head. She would see if Pearl could take her at the last minute for a manicure and pedicure, then she’d call Rebecca. Maybe she could even get a little shopping done before she hooked up with the girls.

JOLENE UNDID THE top button to her St. John pantsuit and leaned forward in front of the full-length mirror in her dressing room. She smiled approvingly at herself. She was showing just the right amount of cleavage for a dinner date with an ex-husband whom she was trying to steal back from his mistress.

The black suit, with silver-toned accessories, was one of her favorites in her vast collection of St. John suits. Most of the designer’s outfits had gold-toned accessories, so this one was a rare find. She knew she had to have it the minute she spotted it on the rack at Neiman Marcus.

Jolene turned from side to side to admire herself. She had put on a few pounds but still had her hourglass figure. Not bad for a thirty-something-year-old broad, as Terrence would have said. It had been ages since she’d thought of Terrence, a former lover from a distant time and place.

Forget all those ex-lovers. She wanted her husband back. She hated Pearl Jackson. Not only had she stolen Patrick by sneaking in sideways right after they separated; she had stolen the baroness and ruined Jolene’s well-planned luncheon. A few women had shown up, but that didn’t make up for the baroness not being there. Pearl was going to have to pay for that.

Jolene knew Patrick well enough to know that her newly found wealth and the promise of some good sex weren’t enough to get him back into her life. She would have to use all the ammunition she could find, from Juliette needing him at home to the history they shared together as a family—all things lacking in his relationship with Pearl Jackson.

Jolene had devised the perfect plan. She had finally persuaded Patrick to have dinner with her and Juliette, for Juliette’s sake, of course. Once Patrick arrived, she would break the news that Juliette had been invited to a sleepover with her girlfriends at the last minute.

She fastened on a pair of white gold earrings and checked herself once more in the mirror. She left the master bedroom suite and walked down the hallway toward Juliette’s room, her black Manolo Blahnik slingbacks clacking on the hardwood floor.

Juliette had her own bedroom suite with a master bath and two rooms. One was where she did her studying, gossiped on the phone, listened to hip-hop music, and entertained her friends. The other was where she slept.

Jolene entered smiling, but as soon as she saw the outfit Juliette was wearing the smile fell off her face. Juliette’s jeans that were so tight and low-cut that Jolene could see her red thong and part of her ass. And she had on a skimpy red midriff top with the words TAKE ME written across her perky little breasts. Jolene was stunned. Whatever happened to her sweet, innocent little girl?

“Take that junk off right now,” Jolene said, trying to keep her voice steady. She was tempted to tear the trashy outfit right off.

Juliette eyed her mother defiantly. “Why?”

“Because I said so, that’s why. It’s too revealing. You look like a tramp.”

Juliette pursed her lips. “I’ve peeped you wearing a lot less,” she said smartly.

Jolene caught her breath. What had gotten into this child? She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you dare talk to me that way. I’m your mother. When you’re my age you can wear whatever you damn well want. But you’re only fifteen, so take that outfit off.”

Juliette crossed her arms stubbornly. “But all my girlfriends are gonna be dressed like this and—”

“I don’t give a damn how they’re going to be dressed. You are not going out of this house looking like that. Maybe you need a different set of friends. I can see your butt and I don’t want boys looking at it, too!”

“Aw, chill, Ma. It’s a sleepover. It’s just us girls.”

Jolene narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I know boys hang out at these things.”

A sly smile crossed Juliette’s lips and she lowered her eyes.

“Uh-huh. Got nothing to say now, do you?”

“Can I just wear the top if I put on different jeans? Please?”

“No. You’re not wearing a top with that trashy slogan written on it.”

“Dammit.” Juliette yanked the top over her head and got up in her mother’s face. “You’re ruining my fucking life.”

Jolene gasped and slapped Juliette solidly across the cheek.

Juliette stuck out her bottom lip and held her face. “I don’t believe it. You just hit me.”

“And I’ll do it again if you ever talk to me like that again.” Jolene had no doubt that all this defiant behavior was the result of Juliette’s spending so much time around that thug Lee. She was going to have to talk to Patrick about this.

She looked through Juliette’s closet and found another pair of blue jeans and threw them on the bed. “Wear those,” she said firmly. “And find another top. You can throw everything you have on in the trash. And hurry up and get dressed. Your father will be here to take you to Monica’s any minute.”

Juliette ran to her dresser, yanked a drawer open, and pulled out another skimpy top, this one off-white. Jolene grabbed it and held it at arm’s length, while Juliette put her hands on her hips and tapped her bare foot impatiently. Jolene ignored her daughter’s cheeky behavior as she carefully examined the top. This one was just as bare as the other but had no dirty slogan written on it. She ought to ban this one, too, but she felt a little guilty after slapping Juliette, and she wanted to make amends.

“That’s all right,” Jolene said and handed the top back to Juliette.

“You treat me like a baby half the time,” Juliette said in a calmer voice. “You say you want me to grow up but then you won’t let me wear what I want. It’s contradictory.”

Jolene sighed. “I want you to grow up to be a strong, confident woman, not a slut. And I—”

The door bell rang and Jolene paused. “That’s your father now,” she said as she headed out the bedroom door. “And you still have your hair to do.”

Juliette flipped her hair. “It’s a weave, Mother, just like yours. There’s nothing to do.”

“Fine but I want you downstairs in ten minutes.” Jolene strolled down the staircase and opened the door to see Patrick standing there looking very handsome in a smart gray blazer and brown slacks. It wasn’t exactly Armani, but he still looked good.

“You look nice,” she said as he kissed her on the cheek.

“And you look beautiful as always.” He looked her up and down. “New suit?”

She nodded. “Sort of. Juliette’s still getting dressed,” she added before he could ask how much she had spent on the suit. She knew her ex-husband, and any outfit that cost more than a few hundred bucks was a waste of money. It wouldn’t matter to him that she was now a millionaire. “Um, why don’t you come on in for a minute and sit down while we wait for Juliette?”

Patrick blinked and glanced at his watch. “If we’re going to make the reservation at seven, we should leave now.”

“She’ll be down any minute. I have some things to talk about before we leave.”

Patrick glanced at her suspiciously as he followed her into the family room. They sat on the black couch and she turned to him.

“You know how she is these days. She takes forever to get ready. And prepare yourself. She’s dressed kind of scantily.”

He smiled knowingly. “Like mother, like daughter it’s turning out. Don’t let her go too far.”

“I made her change, but she’s a teenager. She has to be able to express herself a bit.”

He nodded. “I’m surprised you’re dressed and all ready to go before she is.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something. You see, Monica invited Juliette to a sleepover at the last minute, and she really wants to go. So she won’t be coming to dinner with us.”

Patrick’s face fell. “Damn. I was looking forward to us spending some time together before I take her to my house for the weekend.”

“Oh, I know, honey,” Jolene said as she reached out to pat his knee. “She was looking forward to it, too. But this just came up and, well . . .”

“You could have called me on my cell phone. We could have arranged to have dinner another time when she was free.”

That’s exactly why she
hadn’t
called, Jolene thought. She knew Patrick would want to postpone getting together until Juliette was free. “Uh, well, I started to,” she said. “But then I thought you and I could still go out and enjoy ourselves.” She touched his knee again playfully. “You know, sort of like old times.”

He frowned and clearly looked puzzled. He didn’t seem to have a clue that his ex-wife was flirting with him. Maybe she was coming on too fast. Back up, Jolene. Give him a little more time.

She cleared her throat. “I thought it would give us a chance to celebrate my winning the lottery,” she said brightly.

“That’s very exciting and I’m very happy for you, but—”

“Um, I also thought it would give us a chance to talk about some of Juliette’s behavior lately,” she said, interrupting him. She knew where this was going. He was trying to wiggle out of dinner. “I’m really getting worried. She cursed at me today. The f-word.”

Patrick sat up. He looked genuinely concerned. “That doesn’t sound like Juliette.”

“Some of it is just, you know, growing up. But she’s also bitter about our divorce. At least we can talk freely during dinner if she’s not there. And it will help if she sees us getting along.” The Juliette angle always seemed to work with Patrick. He was full of guilt for leaving his daughter behind when he left Jolene.

“You’re probably right,” he said nodding. “And since we’re both dressed and ready, we might as well go.”

“Good. I’ll go up and see what’s keeping her. We can drop her off on the way.” Jolene stood up and paused. “Um, Patrick, do me a favor, hon. Don’t say anything to her about her changing her plans. She feels bad about not going with us. She was worried it would hurt your feelings.”

He nodded. “I understand.”

Jolene breathed a sigh of relief. Her little scheme to get Patrick out to dinner alone was moving along just as planned.