Green-Eyed Monster (19 page)

“Well, stay away from the keyboard, in case your dribbling fuses the whole house,” Mickey responded sourly. With a huff, she returned to her work.
Is this all it’s going to be between us, then, just sex? Red-hot, gut-melting sex, and nothing else. I dreamed of more than that. If it had just been sex, I wouldn’t wake every morning all eaten up inside.
She slid a sideways glance at Victoria.
I wonder what she dreams about. What she wants?

❖

At the kitchen, BJ made a small detour to where Ginette stood at the stove checking on the contents of a stew pot. BJ  enveloped her in a huge hug, burying her face in her neck, inhaling the wonderful essence of the woman as well as the food.

“Hey.” Ginette squirmed but didn’t pull away. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m squeezing my wife of the week.” BJ smiled into the soft flesh just below the earlobe, kissing it with relish. “You still owe me a Glock 33. So I got a whole week of wifeyness to collect on,” she teased.

“Speaking of guns.” Ginette squirmed even more at the nibbling. “I knocked you overboard before Carmelo could shoot you, thereby saving your life.” She managed to wriggle enough space to turn around in BJ’s arms and face her. “That should make us even— Oh, my God. You’re naked.” Her palms were on the heated satin of BJ’s rib cage, her gaze level with a broad chest.

She felt her face uncharacteristically flush.

“No, I’m not naked. Not yet.” One quick flick and the towel pooled around BJ’s feet. She pulled Ginette closer, grinning widely, her eyes glittering mischievously.

“Stop it,” Ginette protested weakly. “We’re in the kitchen.  It’s unhygienic.” Her Boston cool was steaming up like the gumbo. BJ continued to sway her in her arms.

“You were saying?” she continued to tease. “You saved my life by kicking my ass into a sea of flames, and that means what?  We’re even?”

Ginette smiled. “In some cultures it even means I own you.”

“Indeed? Well, maybe so, Mrs. Jack, maybe so.” BJ kissed her, long and slow.

BJ felt cocky, full of confidence for the way things would run with this attractive, completely mesmerizing American lady.

After all, they were both so sure of each other, had each other’s measure from the moment they’d met. They recognized like for like. They were both players, with lives full of hot hellos and quick good-byes.

Several minutes later, they drew back from each other, both blinking and breathing erratically. What should have been a sexy, salacious kiss had dissolved into addictive, first-time sweetness.

It left BJ with an instant buzz, but not a sex rush low in the belly as expected. Instead, this ache was higher up, a soft warmth that flowed through the heart and onto her flushed face.

“Hmm, when will dinner be ready?” BJ groped for something to say, clumsily pulling her towel back into place.

Ginette stood, silently watching BJ awkwardly right herself.

She too had floundered at the pure, simplicity of the kiss. But Ginette was a pragmatist. Life had thrown her many learning curves recently, and she had fumbled and flunked each one in turn. Now here was another lesson, or trick, or obstacle. Hell, she had no idea what it was. She frowned quizzically at the woman before her. How could she be allowed to have any luck so soon after everything stupid, selfish, and downright evil she’d done? Why were her karmic lessons coming at her in unrelenting waves?

“Dinner?” She looked in those flummoxed midnight eyes, and saw her own questions staring right back at her. BJ was a bruised heart, too. Under all her bluff and bluster lay the belief she deserved little in life but could survive despite the odds.

Maybe this was meant to be their time to be together, to learn and grow beside each other. Who knew? Ginette hated all this karmic crap.

Decision made, she turned off the stove. “Dinner won’t be ready for a few more hours.”

Her pale fingers interlaced with BJ’s duskier ones as Ginette took karma by the hand and led it to the bedroom.

❖

“Done.” Victoria clicked the shutdown icon. “We have saved the world as we know it.”

“Saved your ass, more like.” Mickey snorted. She removed her glasses from her tired eyes, still feeling out of sorts from BJ’s earlier peepshow and Victoria’s reaction to it.

“My ass, your world. What’s keeping dinner?” Mickey stretched and scowled. She’d had a very bad day. She had lost all her illicit millions in one fell swoop, to a ruthless and very sexy corporate pirate. So, no surprises there. She had also lost her holiday resort investment and witnessed the destruction of her adored yacht.
Didn’t see that coming, did ya, hotshot?

Didn’t see any of it. She got you good this time.

She sighed, resigned to the outcome despite her self-scolding.

Her shoulders slumped as she watched Victoria wander off to the kitchen. Now she was losing her other green eyed monster, the one she’d named her boat after. The one she’d wanted to share her future with in one form or another, whether flesh and blood or oak and teak. Panic rose. Now she’d lost them both.
Now you’re really sinking.

Victoria was correct that she was a single woman. A successful, rich, corrupt, single woman who could ogle any big spunky butch she fancied. Mickey had nothing to offer her, never really had. She was good at taking, but had nothing to give. She glanced up from her self-pitying reverie as Victoria returned from the kitchen.

“Where’d they go? The kitchen’s empty and the stove’s not even turned—” Just then an orgasmic cry echoed from BJ’s bedroom. Victoria’s eyes widened and then crinkled as a delighted smile crossed her face. She raised her eyebrows at Mickey, who ruefully rolled her eyes.

“That answer your question?” Mickey answered flatly.

“You’ll have to make do with a sandwich.” Victoria drew closer, watching Mickey intently. “What’s up with you? Aren’t you happy for them?”

Mickey shrugged. “Sure I am,” she replied indifferently.

“Then why so glum?”

“Oh, let me think. There must be something. Ah, I know what it is. Yesterday I was a multimillionaire, living on a beautiful Caribbean island, just messing round all day long on my classic yacht…then you came.”

Victoria shrugged. “So you were happier yesterday. You gotta roll with the blows, Mickey. I’ve had to broker a deal to repay my back taxes. Your shenanigans brought a lot of heat down on me. I had to act fast. I sold my shares in my own companies before there was even a whisper of an investigation. And I’m nearly all paid up.” A small smile tugged at her lips at the confession, “Believe it or not, I think at this very moment in time I may possibly be an honest citizen. And this evening I believe part of me is happier than I’ve ever been. I have a whole new, terrifying future lying ahead of me, and it makes me feel strangely excited.” Mickey’s jaw dropped in shock at her revelations. “Yup, you heard right.  I am now officially broke. The money we’ve just recouped is all for the taxman. Everything changes, Mickey. Here today, gone tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Sure seems so.” Mickey gazed into her eyes and knew she was going to lose her again. Lose her to this terrifying and strangely exciting future that Victoria seemed so ready for.

Holding on to Victoria Gresham was as elusive as diving into the color of her eyes in the warm Caribbean waters. Mickey was always going to come up empty-handed.

Victoria watched Mickey closely, trying to ascertain the thoughts behind the sad, lost look. She wondered if she’d guessed right, or if once again she was falling for Mickey’s smoke and mirrors. Was there a chance for them now that she was bankrupt, or was she going to end up alone, bereft of everything? What were her actual chances, now that she’d admitted that she was penniless to the woman who had always seen her as a commodity?

She understood Mickey’s drive, her lust for the green dollar bill. Victoria let her shoulders sag in defeat. Mickey would most likely move on to the next good scam or dodgy deal, always looking for fast money and lots of it. It took a lot of hard work and commitment to get rich, either the good way or the bad, and twice as much to stay that way. Mickey would have to move on quickly.

“Sometimes, some things stick,” she said carefully, gently placing a hand on Mickey’s shoulder. She was compelled to ask for an answer she was afraid to hear.

“Like…” She searched her mind quickly for an analogy.

“Like barnacles.” She winced.
What the hell am I trying to say here?
“Barnacles? You calling me a barnacle?”

“No, no.
I’m
the barnacle. Well, no, I’m not… That was a bad analogy. Forget it.”

“
You’re
the barnacle?” Mickey’s eyebrows rose and the dimple deepened.

“I was thinking about the boat,” Victoria defended hotly, annoyed at her crummy word selection. Why couldn’t she have said albatross or dolphin or something? Mickey cocked her head.

Her hands came up to span Victoria’s waist. Victoria absently ran her palms down Mickey’s firm biceps and forearms, savoring the contours. She frowned and tried again. “I was thinking about you and your boat. Sailing the seas.”

“Aaah.” Mickey nodded wisely. “And you’re a barnacle.”

“I’m
not
a barnacle. It was a bad analog—”

“You’re the boat,” Mickey interrupted.

Victoria blinked, confused.

“You’re the boat,” Mickey continued to explain. Her grip tightened. “You’re the
Green Eyed Monster.
I named her for you.  I wanted to sail away with her. Sailing lifts my heart. It’s the closest I’ve been to happy since, well…since you.”

“You think of me as a monster.” Victoria was shocked; her mind reeled at the boat being named for her. Somewhere she sensed a compliment, of sorts.

Mickey nodded solemnly. “Always. Abominable, devilish, crazy, but always
my
little monster. I love you, Victoria.” Sudden urgency entered her words now that they were out in the open.

“Victoria, stay with me. You’re penniless. You’ll starve. You can’t cook, or shop with coupons, or do any poor people stuff.” The grip on Victoria’s waist tightened as Mickey continued her imploring. “Let’s be poor together. I’ll look after you. I’m good at poor. We can rent a place. Small and cozy, for just the two of us.  We can be beach bums, and I can get a job in a bar…or a kitchen.  Anything. You can even go to hairdressing college. Just…please don’t go away. Think about it. Please, just think about it. I love you so much. I don’t think I could bear losing you again.” Victoria stood stunned as Mickey’s words sank in. This woman, like so many others before her, had only entered her life for her money. Now at her lowest ebb, empire relinquished, funds depleted, barely slipping out from the shadow of jail, now she was being offered the only thing she ever really wanted?

Finally, as a derelict, penniless beach bum, she was to be loved for herself? Her own bad-tempered, monstrous self? She stood incredulous of the real riches Mickey was pouring on her.

In a choked voice, she answered, “I can’t leave…I’m a barnacle.”

The telephone shrilled out one ring before being silenced.

It awoke Victoria out of her sleep long enough to register her growling stomach. She shifted out from under Mickey’s heavy arm and pulled on a large T-shirt before she padded off in search of a late-night snack.

The ding of her microwaved meal enticed Ginette to the kitchen, too. She yawned and reheated another bowl of gumbo for herself and sat companionably with Victoria to eat.

“What time is it?”

“Hmm, around four o’clock, I think. Who was on the phone?” Victoria asked.

“BJ’s brother warning her to lie low. Rudy has been arrested on narcotics charges. Seems Carmelo has been squealing like a stuck pig for a police deal.”

“Is BJ going to be all right?”

“Oh, yes. She had nothing to do with their drug running. She was only drafted in to work in the ‘kidnap, torture, and murder you’ project.”

“Thank goodness for that,” Victoria drawled.

Ginette seemed unperturbed. “And since that never actually happened, and Rudy never reported his boss’s abduction, she’s totally safe. There never was a kidnapping as far as the authorities are concerned. Rudy is hardly going to confess to one, now is he?”

“You like her, don’t you?”

“Yes. I’m thinking I might blackmail her into sticking around.”

“Blackmail?”

“Yes. Some people have happily ever after, we’ll have blackmail.
Comme ci, comme ça
.” They ate a few more spoonfuls in silence.

“What about you?” Ginette asked.

“Me?”

“Yes, you and whatsherface.”

“Ah, we don’t have blackmail. We have ‘You’re penniless and you’re mine.’”

“Bankruptcy.” Ginette nodded slowly in appreciation. “That works, too, I suppose.”

“Plus, I love her.”

“I know.” Another companionable silence, which Ginette broke. “So, what are you gonna do about it? Stay here? Take her back with you? What?”

Victoria contemplated this and shook her head. “I’m not sure what will happen, or what lies ahead for us. I only know the one thing she ever wanted to do was run away on that stupid boat.  What about you?” Victoria asked. “You and BJ seem…cozy.”
Understatement of the year. Hyenas mate more quietly.

“When I’m around her, I feel sort of stalked.”

“Stalked?”

“Yes, I think love and karma are out to get me.” 

Victoria smiled. “Wow, that’s a pretty mean tag team, Ginette. You want to be careful there. Think you and BJ can take them on?”

Ginette shrugged, her face totally open and honest. “Well, I think I pretty much got karma’s moves covered. But love, well, I’m not so sure about that. No offense to our relationship or anything, Vic. I do love you, but as a friend, and I probably always loved you like that, even when we were together.” She looked directly at Victoria. “It’s just that, well, I’m realizing I don’t know a thing about the heart-stopping, gut-churning sort of love. So I’m not sure what to expect. And I’m not too crazy about the lack of control that goes with it. Hence the blackmail. I can make BJ stay or go, depending on how scared I get.”

“You look at things very uniquely, Ginette. Blackmail, kidnap, arson. You’ve added a whole new chapter to the
Ways to Say I Love You
handbook. And for the record, we had fun together, we were good, and you’ll always be my friend. I think you’ve got a better handle on love than you realize. You don’t need it to coerce BJ to stay or go. I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I think she has her own ideas about what she wants.”