Going For Broke (35 page)

             
He didn’t answer, instead he kissed her.  A sweet, slow kiss.  Not the kiss of drunken passion,  this was the kiss of courtship. 

             
“How do you know that?” She managed to say.

             
“Because my dear Victoria Vernon,” he kissed her forehead, “I know just what an amazing person you are.  That you, Vicky Patterson,” he kissed her neck, “have overcome some tremendous obstacles in your life, though somehow they have made you strong, not rigid.”  He pulled the pony tail holder out of her hair and ran his fingers up the back of her head as he pulled her to him.  “I know that you, my lovely Vivi, know a good thing when you see it and would not let it go.  No matter how many dumb jocks get in the way.”

             
With that she put her arms around him and kissed him deeply.  She knew he was right, and couldn’t believe the passion she felt - a passion she had never felt with Trip.  She lost thought of time and place and let him pick her up and bring her inside.  He effortlessly carried her to the same sofa she has just been lying on - the Atlanta Housewives were still on and she had to laugh as he struggled to turn off the TV.

             
He sat on the same sofa where she had just been berating herself and pulled her down to him.  She felt intoxicated, naughty and perfectly right all at the same time.  They kissed on the sofa, slowly at first, then with intensity.  Mike put his hand under her sweatshirt and ran it up her back.  His hands were rough to the touch, and flew over her quickly and lightly.  She caught her breath as he undid her bra with the proficiency of a 12th grade Lothario.  There was a lot more to Michael Towner that was left to discover, although now was not the time.  His hands ran up and down her bra-free body, slowly exploring every inch.  Even in passion, he managed to drive her crazy.  She started to peel off the sweatshirt, but he stopped her.

             
“Don’t.  Not yet,” he said, kissing her silent.  How do you argue with that, she thought?  Two can play at that game, she thought, as she started to unbutton his shirt.  She caught her breath as she saw the chest of an Abercrombie model, not a middle-aged man.  Wow, that FBI must have one hell of a training program!  She couldn’t help herself and bent down to kiss his chest, moving slowly down those amazing abs.  When she got to his belt buckle, she didn’t miss a beat.  She started to unbuckle, much less expert with the buckle than Mike had been with her bra.  In the time it took to fumble through it, it was as if Mike had come out of a haze.  He grabbed her wrist.

             
“Don’t.”  His voice was low and almost pained.

             
Victoria didn’t understand.  It had been a while since she had been in this position, but it was like riding a bike.  She was all for slow and tortuous foreplay, though now she was ready to get to the main show. 

             
Mike pushed Victoria off of him as gently as he could, and she felt like he had dumped her on the floor.  “What?”  Would she never understand this man?

             
He quickly buttoned up his shirt and tried to put himself together.  Victoria pulled her knees up to her chest, and sat on the other end of the sofa.  Her wounded look made Mike feel like a shit.

             
“Vivi, you’re married.”  No matter what he felt about her, married was married. 

             
“Yeah, to an embezzling asshole who left his wife and children to fend for himself.  As far as I’m concerned, Trip Vernon is dead.  Think of me as a widow.”  She moved toward him, but he stood before she could reach him. 

             
“I’ve got to go,” he said to the floor.  He just couldn’t bring himself to look at her. 

             
“Are you kidding me? You’re going to leave me?”

             
He sat back on the sofa and held her by the shoulders.  She didn’t know if he was going to embrace her, or scold her.  “I don’t want to leave.  I have to leave.”
             

             
She closed her eyes.  “No you don’t,” she whispered.  “I’m asking you to stay.”  She opened her eyes to gage his reaction.  “Please.”

             
He pulled her to him and kissed her again.  This time she could tell it was the kiss of regret.  The moment was over.  She let him hold her for a moment, then suddenly felt a great need to salvage whatever self-respect she could out of what could quite possibly be the most mortifying experience of her adult life.  She stood up, and could feel her bra hanging lank around her shoulders, an uncomfortable reminder of what had just minutes ago been so thrilling.

             
“Thanks for stopping by,” she said in a weirdly cheerful voice, like he had just stopped in to share some neighborhood gossip.  He didn’t say a word, he just walked out. 

             
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKKKKKKKKK!”  Victoria yelled at the door behind him.  She collapsed on the sofa and began to cry.  A body-racking, sobbing, wounded animal cry.  Victoria did not cry.  Not as an adult, not even as a child.  Even when her father died, Victoria felt that crying was a waste of time.  It made much more sense to look forward and move ahead.  Crying was wasted emotion about things of which you had no control.  The best was to avoid the need to cry was to control your world.  When Mike Towner walked out her door, she realized that she had lost control of every last aspect of her life. 

             
             
             
             
             
             
###

             
When he got to the sidewalk, Mike’s heart was racing and he was breathing as heavily as if he just outrun Harry ‘The Hook’ Carini when Harry found Mike folded under the floorboards of Harry’s mother’s kitchen, complete with a full microphone setup .  Mike had outrun Harry into the safety of the agency’s surveillance truck.  The Hook had nothing on Victoria Vernon. 

             
He had no idea what possessed him to kiss her.  Okay, he knew why he wanted to kiss her, but he just broke the most basic commandments involving the three B’s: Broads, Booze and Bullets.   Keep away from all three and you’ll be okay.  He just couldn’t help himself.  He had seen her with that Simons guy and nearly pounded on her door last night.  There was something about Victoria Vernon he couldn’t get out of his system.  And this afternoon had just made it worse.  He had no idea where he had summoned the willpower to walk away.  He knew that she had been through enough, and right now the last thing she needed was to get involved with him. 

             
Mike got into his truck to hear the ring of his cell phone.  He picked it up off the dash and looked at the caller ID.  Shit, it was Clark.  That was never good.

             
“Towner,” he barked into the phone.

             
“Mike!  Clark
             
Donaldson here.”  No shit - I can read your number, Mike thought.  “I was expecting your weekly report, and haven’t seen anything yet.”

             
Damn!  The only thing Mike hated more than having Clark call him was having Clark call him to nag him about paperwork. 

             
“Working on it as we speak, Clark,” Mike said as he picked up the his sandwich d’ jour.  Or rather the remains of yesterday’s sandwich d’jour. 

             
“Anything happening out there?” Clark asked.

             
“Aw, Clark, if I told you, it’d ruin the fun of reading the report,” Mike said between bites.  “I know how much you love reading reports.  Anything new there?”

             
“We’ve got a line on Vernon.  Seems he decided to hole up with his money,” Clark couldn’t hide his distaste for guys like Trip Vernon.  “You’ll never guess where.”

             
Mike swallowed a large bite before answering.  “Let’s see - too late for skiing, so Switzerland’s out.  Caymans?  The Bahamas?”

             
Clark almost snorted a laugh.  “No!  Get this - Liechtenstein!”

             
“No fucking way!  Lichten-fucking-stein?  What a complete asshole!  He doesn’t even have the sense to put his money somewhere he can get a tan.  Are you going in to get him?”

             
“We’re working on it.  We’ll let Treasury worry about the money.  Aruba they know how to work with.  Liechtenstein?  Who knows.  I really need to get this file in order as soon as possible.  Can you get something out to me by tonight?  I think we’re going to have to move quickly on this.”

             
Tonight?  Mike really didn’t want to sit in his piece of shit hotel room and write a report.  Clark did have a way of asking that made it hard for him to refuse.

             
“No problem.  Liechtenstein?  Fuck that!” Mike said as he hung up the phone

CHAPTER 23

             
It was only until the water ran cold that Victoria finally emerged from the shower.  She had no idea how long she’d been in there, only that she wanted it to be as hot as she could possibly stand it.  She wanted to wash everything off of her.  The scent of Mike, the shame of wanting him, the failure she felt from her head to her toes.  Stepping out of the shower, she rubbed herself raw with a towel, trying to erase anything the shower missed.  No good.  The good news was that shame and remorse took precedence over a measly hangover.  The remnants of last night, both physical and emotional were easily forgotten.

             
She thought about crawling back into Bud’s sweats, then thought better of it.  Move on, Victoria, she said to herself.  Put your best foot forward, and make sure it’s wearing a fabulous shoe.  She took her time getting dressed.  It was as if she was putting the broken pieces back together.  She looked in the mirror when she was finished.  She felt like a totaled car that had come back from the body shop.  She looked perfect on the outside, yet didn’t think it would ever run quite the same way again.

             
All dressed up with nowhere to go, Victoria decided to walk across the street to pick up the kids from school.  She saw the other mothers do it every day - how hard could it be?  She stood on the corner with the other mothers, toddlers in their jogging strollers, looking out of place in her non-workout outfit.  She just needed to be doing something. 

             
“Victoria!”  It was Kathy Berner, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, with her Bernese Mountain dog in tow.  “Wow!  You look amazing!  Do you have a meeting at school?”

             
“Just thought I’d surprise the kids,” she said lamely.  She was a tad overdressed for walking across the street.  “Do you come here every day?”

             
“Just on the beautiful ones.  I can’t believe school will be over next week.  What are you doing with the kids this summer?”

             
School was over next week?  Shit!  What was she going to do with the kids this summer?  She could barely make it through the day, let alone plan for the next three months.  The crossing guard let the throng of mothers cross the street, and Kathy kept in step with Victoria.