Dirty Little Secrets (19 page)

“Megan? You OK? You never call me.” James said when he picked up the phone.

That was true. She had never phoned him and wouldn’t be phoning him now if the uncertainty wasn’t affecting her work. “I’m fine. Just wanted to see if you got my text.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

A long silence followed. Megan waited for him to speak but he didn’t, so eventually she said, “Good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“I never said that. But it’s up to you,” James said, his tone noncommittal.

“It makes sense. I’ll need another birth control shot in eight weeks so it seems the natural end point.”

“Very logical. Shame you didn’t get the implant. I would be guaranteed another three years of good sex. Two months, three years. I suppose it is all the same in wombat years.” His voice was cold, lacking the usual vibrancy.

Megan shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. “Good. I’m glad we got that sorted. We should have decided on that the first night. My apologies for the oversight. So are we on for tonight?”

“I don’t think so.”

Megan’s breath hitched in her throat. An icy knot formed in the pit of her stomach. Several seconds passed before she could speak. “Right, well. I’m in the middle of calendar so I better get back.” She was grateful that her tone was more even than she felt.

“What’s calendar?”

Megan shook her head. She was out of practice with speaking to non-lawyers. “Sorry, it’s slang. It’s just boring court admin, setting trial dates, hearing motions, that kind of thing. Just boring busy work, but in front of a judge.”

“Calendar, huh? I learn so much from you, my little wombat. I better drink it up if we only have two months left. That reminds me, I need to look for another person to watch
Jeopardy
with. You will take some beating. Woman, I swear you cheat.”

“I told you, I’m better educated. I better get back.” Despite herself she smiled. “See you later,” she added lamely.

James sighed. He was quiet for a moment before he said, “Tonight. You’ll see me tonight. We both know we’ll both be in a better mood tomorrow if we see each other tonight.”

“But you just said you didn’t want to see me tonight.”

“I don’t. I don’t want to give you all the control again but I’m not going to bite off my nose to spite my face. You want the control, you got it. I’m a big boy, I can handle handing the reins over once in a while. Shame you can’t.”

Megan’s back straightened. “This isn’t about control. I’m not playing games. I just need…” Her voice trailed off. She did not know what she needed.

“The word you are looking for is control. I get it, Megan. Someone somewhere took your control and now that you have it back you fight tooth and nail to keep it. You need to be in charge of everything. I’m not going to take that from you. You have the control, woman. What are you going to do with it?”

A hard lump formed in her throat. He was doing it again, exposing her and comforting her at the same time. Megan swallowed hard against the closing pressure around her neck. Why did he have to see her? What was the point of her shiny mask if he saw what was underneath? She wanted to run but the only place she wanted to be was beside him. She had to end it soon. But not yet…“Your house at seven?” she managed to ask.

“Make it six. I want chat and sex tonight.”

Megan tapped her fingers against the cold marble of the counter. She examined herself in the mirror again. She looked polished and put together, not a hair out of place. Her soft coral lipstick was the same shade as her neatly manicured nails. But James saw past the perfection to the jagged, neurotic creature at the centre, but what he saw he still seemed to like. She ignored the voice that told her that if he really saw her, he would run. It was harder to ignore the part of her that told her to run first.

He was pushing her again. He knew her limits and he took her to the edge and then pushed her past. They had never done the sex and talking thing in the same night except the first night in the hotel when she was too drunk to feel awkward or inhibited or overthink things.

He was right, she needed control, and compartmentalising was how she kept it. There was the man she had sex with and the man who knew things about her without her ever telling him. James could not be both. She could only handle one at a time. “I have a busy day tomorrow. Maybe tonight isn’t the best. How about I meet you at the hotel on Monday? I can manage between noon and one.”

“I don’t have to see you to know you’re lying. Did the great pepper spray incident teach us nothing?” James laughed but there was an edge to his voice, a challenge.

Megan stopped and counted to ten. Her normal response would be to lash out, tell him to piss off. But she didn’t want to be that person for the rest of her life. She wanted there to be another way to deal with the ache of vulnerability. “Six. But only sex unless you beat me at
Jeopardy
.”

James laughed. “Only a wombat would prefer sex to my chat. My chat is legendary.”

“So is your sex. You seem to forget I read the papers.”

“You’re obsessed with my sex life.”

Megan smiled. “Obsessed is an overstatement. A healthy fascination is more apt.” The only reason she considered his past was because she was nothing like the other women he was linked with. He liked stunningly beautiful but vacuous woman. “I’m not your type.”

He surprised her by saying, “Nope, you’re not. I don’t think either of us would have picked the other in a bar. But think of all the great sex we would have missed out on if either of us had let the small matter of type get in the way. Great sex trumps type every day of the week.”

Megan continued to smile as she said goodbye and put the phone down. The thing she liked the most about James was his honesty. She admired it about him which surprised the hell out of her because she had never admired a man she was having sex with. She always knew where she stood with James. He would never tell her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever been with because they both knew the opposite was most likely true; however, he never made her question her appeal. She always felt desired with him, not just when they were having sex; it was easy to desire someone when you were inside them. It was the other times that made her know he wanted her. Sometimes she would catch him staring at her while she ate or when she surprised him with a bit of trivia and he would smile—a wicked, knowing smile she could feel to her toes.

***

Megan lay draped across James’ chest, completely satiated. She traced her finger along the prominent ridge of his abs. She wondered again how anyone who drank beer and ate pizza could have a body that looked like it had been chiselled out of marble. She had no idea how it was possible, but thankfully the good Lord had seen fit to create a body so perfect; ironic since James specialised in utilising his body for sin.

James absently stroked her hair as they waited for the commercial break to end and Final Jeopardy to begin. As expected, she was winning. They both knew she had stacked the deck in her favour when she had arranged this particular showdown. She never lost at quizzes. Ever. By now, he knew that about her, and yet he let her use it as a bargaining chip.

Despite knowing that Megan was effectively cheating, James did not press her for conversation after sex. He was giving her the control again. She wanted to thank him, but she could not find the words, and it did not matter anyway, because he knew how she felt. They had an understanding that transcended words.

James sighed, a contented lazy sound. “This is my favourite part of the day.”

Megan’s lips brushed his nipple, enjoying the sensation of feeling his sensitive flesh contract under her touch. “That’s not saying much; everyone’s favourite part of the day is sex.”

James kissed the top of her head. “No, not the sex. The sex is fabulous but I love the ten minutes after when you’re totally relaxed and you forget you have to fight me on everything.” He paused before he added, “I’ve never enjoyed this part. I’m always trying to get away with as few tears as possible. It’s nice just to be with someone.”

Megan lifted her head until she could look directly into his mossy eyes. He sounded alarmingly sentimental. “You only think that because the running part is built into our situation. We are running from the deadline of the election, running from the paparazzi, so that fills your need to run. Don’t worry, you’re still very much a wombat,” she assured him.

James’ eyes narrowed. “The paparazzi always follow me so that can’t be it.”

“Then it’s our shelf life. You know it’s going to end in two months so it saves you the effort of coming up with reasons to end it. Your innate need to run is taken care of. Trust me, man-whore.”

“This man-whore has become surprisingly accustomed to monogamy. I thought monogamy was synonymous with monotony, but the more I’m with you, the more I want to be with you.”

“Settle down. We’veonly known each other six weeks. And one of those I was in rehab and another I was avoiding you. So we really have only spent a month together.”

James twirled a piece of her hair around his finger. “Sadly this is still my longest relationship. I’ve had sex with you at least three times more than I have with anyone else. I would not admit that to anyone else by the way, but since you know I am a man-whore, I may as well fess up.”

She eyed him dubiously while she thought. “Really? Huh. It’s the expiration date that keeps you interested.”

James let out a stream of air. “Maybe,” he conceded, sounding unconvinced.

They did not have time to discuss it further;
Jeopardy
started again. The host stood at the podium and read the clue. “This supercontinent was formed by Australia and Antarctica.”

“What is Gondwana?” they said in unison, each remembering to phrase the answer as a question.

James smiled at her. “How did you know that? You’re not even Australian.”

“I told you, I am very well educated.”

“Really? They taught you that at Harvard Law? You’re freakishly smart. I think I’m sleeping with a trivia savant.”

Megan took a deep breath. She had won the game. They had both answered the question correctly but she had earned more than James in the previous rounds. Technically Megan had earned the right not to talk tonight. She could go home, no questions asked, but something kept her fixed in place, with his arms wrapped around her. She wanted to tell him things because he was James. Intuitively she knew she could trust him. And more than that, she wanted to share things with him the same way he did with her.

“Totally and completely off the record,” she said.

“Always. Anything said between sex is always off the record. But that of course means you will have to have sex with me straight after to make it legally binding.” James took her hand in his and gently licked the tip of her index finger.

Megan laughed as she pulled her hand away. “Really, sex makes it legally binding? That is illegal and immoral in so many ways. You would make a brilliant lawyer.”

“So tell me. Why do you never lose at
Jeopardy
?”

Before she could think twice she began, “Growing up I had a Trivial Pursuit game. Every night I stayed up until 2 a.m. reading the cards. I read them so many times I memorised them.” She swallowed past the tightness in her throat. Talking about it made it real again in a way she wasn’t ready to deal with. Maybe she never would be. She forced herself to smile as if the memory meant nothing, but her mouth would not cooperate. “You might find I have a few gaps in my general knowledge, like for example I still refer to Russia as the USSR. It was an early edition,” she said, trying to seem light and unaffected.

“Two a.m.? Every night? Insomniac?” James asked gently, inviting her to open up but not pushing, in a way only James could.

Megan let out a stream of air. She could stop now, not tell him any more, but she would because he hadn’t pushed. “I wish. I had to wait until the bars closed and my stepdad came home. I never knew if we would be welcoming a sleepy drunk or an angry drunk back into the trailer. It was my job to stay up until he fell asleep… Or to call the police when he started beating on my mom. When he got violent I was responsible for getting my brothers outside until the police came. So yes I do know a lot of trivia but I am not a savant or even all that smart for that matter. I just stay up late and work hard.”

James was quiet for a long time and then he said, “Thank you for telling me.”

Megan shook her head. It was not the reaction she expected. She didn’t know what she expected, but thanks was certainly not it.

“I didn’t know you have brothers. Your bio says you are the only child of Dotty and Peter Williams, both deceased.”

This time she did smile. “I know. Dead parents make things far more convenient, much easier to explain than the truth.”

“Do you ever see your family?” James asked.

“Ben is my only family,” Megan said more defensively than she intended. She softened immediately when she felt James’ arms loosen around her, giving her the physical and emotional space she needed. “I have not seen any of them since I left. I keep tabs on my brothers though. The oldest, Mathew, died in a meth explosion about seven years ago, and the youngest two are in prison. Both have rap sheets as long as my arm. And both have been known to drink too much and beat up their girlfriends. You would have thought seeing my mom battered and bloodied so many times would have taught them not to hit women. But it turns out they identified more with my stepdad. So there in a nutshell is my family. You can see why Ben would not want them known to the media. I’m sure you can imagine the quality of sound bites they would provide.” Megan bit her lip. That wasn’t everything, but it was all she could say now, or ever maybe. Already she had shared more than she thought she could. In some ways it was like recounting someone else’s life, but in other ways, it was real, the feeling fresh and visceral. She could feel the dew of the grass on her bare feet and then the sting of the star thistle as she pulled her brothers along the open field, taking them to safety, praying the police would respond quickly. She could hear the shattering of glass and the high-pitched screams of her mom. And she could smell the acrid smell of the shotgun her stepdad used to terrorise them. He always fired the gun once trying to fox them out of the field. He would scream that he was going to kill their mom if they did not come back but Megan knew to stay put.