Jennifer Crusie Bundle (42 page)

“If you're going to make his life hell, yes.”

“So what you're saying is no more risky sex. What's the point in living if you can't take risks?”

“Work. Love. Children.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Then move out,” Gina said. “You're just leading him on if you don't.”

“I probably should,” Tess said. “I've been there almost a month now. It's time.”

Gina nodded. “Definitely.”

“It's not like we're in love or planning a commitment or anything.”

Gina shook her head. “Of course not.”

“So I really should move out.”

Gina nodded. “Absolutely.”

“I don't want to,” Tess said.

“I didn't think you did,” Gina said.

“S
O HOW IS LIVING
with Tess working out?” Park asked Nick at lunch at The Levee the next day.

“Great.” Nick looked at him across the spotless linen warily. “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Park seemed distracted as he talked, absentmindedly crumbling a bread roll into dust. “I suppose there've been a few changes at your place.”

“A few.” Nick sat back from his empty plate. “But they're all good changes. Tess's clothes, for example. She dresses like Annie Hall on welfare, but I've been having Christine buy her new things and she looks great.” He smiled, remembering how good Tess had looked in a midnight blue jersey the night before. “And the next thing that's going is that damn navy blazer,” he added, his voice thick with satisfaction.

“She's been sort of…odd at dinner,” Park said. “Quiet. Dignified. Is she sick?”

“No,” Nick said, patient to the end. “She's trying to help me with my career.”

“Oh.” Park considered Nick's comment and shrugged. “Well, it's working. I think the only reason Welch is paying any attention to us at all is Tess. He never takes his eyes off her.”

“I know.” Nick frowned, remembering. “The old goat.”

“What?”

“I know we want the account,” Nick said. “I just don't like him leering at Tess.”

“He's not,” Park said.

Nick frowned again. “Sure he is. He—”

“No. I don't know what it is he sees in Tess, but it's not sex.”

“Oh?” Nick sat back and surveyed his friend. “And how do you know this?”

“Because he never looks at her body,” Park said. “Face it, most guys are either breast or leg men, and Tess does pretty well in both categories, but he never looks at anything but her face.” He frowned, considering. “It's like he's looking for something or waiting for something.”

Nick blinked. “You're right. I hadn't thought about it, but you're right. What is it?”

“I don't know,” Park said. “And I don't care as long as it gets us the account.” He shifted in his chair and started mutilating another roll. “Did I tell you about that new paralegal I interviewed? Very hot. I think I may ask her out.”

Nick folded his arms and stared at Park with exasperation. “Park, what the hell are you doing?”

Park started and dropped his roll. “What?”

“This thing with Corinne at seven and Gina at eleven. And now a new paralegal.” Nick looked at him sternly. “This is not good.”

“How'd you know?” Park said, stunned.

“Tess talks to Gina,” Nick said. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Yes,” Park said glumly.

Nick rolled his eyes and leaned forward. “Park, you can't go on like this. I don't want to interfere, God knows I don't, but you have to stop this.”

Park winced. “I know I have to drop Gina. I know that. It's just she's so happy—”

“Oh, for crying out loud.” Nick threw his napkin down on the table in disgust. “You can't please the whole world. And I'm warning you, I can only keep Tess from blowing the whistle for so long. She wants you dead now.”

Park was appalled. “She'd tell Gina?”

“Of course she'd tell Gina,” Nick said. “Damn it, Park, let Gina down as easy as you can, but stop seeing her. What you're doing is cruel.” He looked at his friend in puzzlement. “This isn't like you.”

“I know,” Park said. “I know. I'll do it. Soon. I really will. I can't stand this much longer, anyway. It's driving me crazy. I sit there with Corinne drinking champagne and then I go to Gina's and it's like I'm in a different world. Ravioli. Throwing toast. Watching a twelve-inch TV. Not what I'd expected.”

“What are you talking about?” Nick said, totally confused.

“Nothing.” Park shrugged. “Forget it. It's over. I knew it would be. I've just got to tell Gina and…and…” He stopped, unhappy and disoriented, and began shredding the roll again. “Oh, hell. Forget it. Women are hell. I don't know how you're still sane after four weeks with Tess.”

“Sane? I'm not.” Nick relaxed against the back of his chair, glad to be off the subject of Gina. “Did you ever live with a woman you found it impossible to say no to?”

“Yes,” Park said gloomily. “My mother.”

“This is different,” Nick said. “We made love on the piano at the Opera Guild open house.”

Now Park looked confused. “Why?”

“Because it was there,” Nick said. “I don't know why. Tess said, ‘Let's,' and I said, ‘No,' and we did it.” He shook his head. “We're going to get arrested one of these days, but it will be worth it.”

“So that's what's keeping you with this woman? Great sex on pianos?”

“No,” Nick said. “But it's not hurting the situation any.”

“If she's what you want…” Park said doubtfully.

“She's what I want.” Nick pushed back his chair and stood up. “Enough about me. Get rid of Gina before Tess tells her what you're doing and then dismembers you.”

“Right,” Park said. “Get rid of Gina.”

A
T ELEVEN-THIRTY
that night, Tess came out of the history stacks at the university library to find Nick asleep with his head on a table.

“Nick,” she said softly, shaking him. “Nick, honey, I'm sorry.”

He shook his head a little to clear it. “It's all right. Did you find anything?”

“No,” Tess said miserably. “Not one mention of Lanny anywhere. I swear I didn't make it up.”

“I know you didn't.” Nick rubbed a hand over his eyes. “You ready to call it a night?”

“How do you know I didn't?” Tess asked.

“Don't be ridiculous.” He sounded testy as he pushed his chair away from the table. “You know I trust you. Of course you didn't make it up.”

“Then why aren't you going to Welch?” Tess said exasperated. “Why can't you just talk to him about this? Why can't you talk him out of trashing Lanny? You're a lawyer. You can talk anybody into anything. And you know I'm never going to find that manuscript. It's hopeless.”

Nick focused on her, slowly waking up. “You're giving up?”

Tess collapsed into the chair next to him. “I've talked to people who remember Lanny and people who remember the stories, but nobody has a manuscript and nobody remembers it well enough to quote it. I've got nothing.” She waved her hand toward the stacks behind her. “This was my last shot. But nobody even mentions Lanny. Notes from fifty commune members and nobody mentions Lanny.”

Nick frowned. “Why not?”

“What?”

“He spent the summer there,” Nick said. “Why didn't anybody mention him?”

“I don't know.”

“What does this file look like?”

Tess shrugged. “It's just a big folder full of papers.”

“It's not bound?” Nick said. “Are the papers numbered?”

“I don't know. It—” Tess stopped when Nick leaned back in his chair and sighed. “What?”

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “Come on. I'm going to hate myself for this, but show me this damn file.”

Ten minutes later, Tess looked at the notes she'd made. “According to the log, four sets of papers are missing,” she said. “All from the summer of 'sixty-five. One of them was a manuscript. Somebody took them out. Why?”

“We know why,” Nick said, shoving the file box back on the shelf. “Somebody's trying to wipe out any evidence of Lanny. What we need to know is who.”

The research librarian was furious when she found out that papers had been removed. She called up the computer file immediately, and then they watched as her fury turned to confusion. “This can't be right,” she told them. “In the ten years that file has been there, only one other person has checked it out.”

“And that would be?” Nick prompted.

She blinked at them. “Norbert Welch. Why would he vandalize an old oral-history file?”

“I have no idea,” Nick lied, nudging Tess to keep quiet. “Thank you very much.”

“The rat,” Tess said as she followed him out of the library. “The lousy, cheating, plagiarizing, library-vandalizing rat.”

“I know,” Nick said. “I'll talk to Park and we'll figure what to do tomorrow.” He caught her hand and pulled her along with him toward the parking lot, overriding her next question. “I don't know what we're going to do yet. And right now I don't care. I just want to go home and go to bed. I have to be in court first thing in the morning.”

Tess started to protest his dismissal of Welch and then winced as the guilt hit her. He was tired and she was nagging him.
Don't you ever pay any attention to him?
Gina had asked, and here she was, totally oblivious to the fact that he had to get up early in the morning. He gave her the best of everything and she hated all of it, and now she was dragging him through libraries in the middle of the night so he could help her destroy his career.

If you had any consideration for this man,
she told herself,
you'd get out of his life.
As a personal goal, it had very little appeal, but it was the right thing to do.

“Are you okay?” he asked when he'd walked her through the shadows of the parking lot and they were back in the car. He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine purred to life. “You're awfully quiet.”

“I think I'd better move out,” Tess said.

“What?” Nick turned off the ignition and faced her in the gloom. “What are you talking about?”

“I'm not good for you,” Tess said miserably. “I don't look out for you and I'm going to ruin your career and—”

“Who the hell have you been talking to?” Nick said. “I don't need you to look out for me.
I
look out for me. And my career is fine. What are you talking about?”

“Yes, but suppose somebody had caught us on that piano?” Tess said. “Then where would you be?”

“Probably enshrined in the envious heart of every man in Riverbend,” Nick said. “Who started you on this?”

“I just thought that maybe you'd be better without me dragging you down into degradation every fifteen minutes.”

“I like degradation,” Nick said. “I've had more great sex since I discovered degradation with you than I'd ever dreamed of. Come here.” He leaned across the stick shift and cradled her cheek in his hand and kissed her, and Tess melted into him, so grateful she wasn't losing him that she clutched at him and felt the swell of the muscles in his upper arm.

“I love you, Tess. Don't go,” he whispered.

“I won't,” she said, pressing her forehead against his. “I couldn't. Not really. Not anymore. I love you, too.”

He kissed her again, and his mouth was hot, and every time she kissed him, she found the curve of his lips more dizzying. As she lost herself in the heat there, she let her hand trail lazily down his chest to the swell of his thigh. He drew in his breath sharply and his hand cupped her breast and she felt her breath catch, felt her blood shudder, and she wanted him, suddenly, now, any way, and she pressed against him harder, but he moved his hand away and said, “No.”

T
ess flinched and pulled away. “I know, I know, it's the piano all over again. I'm sorry. This is exactly what I was talking about.”

She moved away, trying to stomp down the need for him that was making her shake, but Nick reached for her and said, “No, that's not what I meant. There's a stick shift—there's no room.” He kissed her then, and she fell back against him, suddenly desperate again, her tongue stroking his mouth frantically, needing some kind of release before she screamed. She trailed her hand down to open his zipper, and though he moved once to stop her, she stroked her cheek down his chest, feeling the curves and the hard muscle beneath his shirt before she took him in her mouth. His hand came to rest in her curls as she traced his length with her tongue, lost in the taste and the heat and silky smoothness of him until, after a few minutes, he pulled her head up again and kissed her, searching her mouth with his tongue.

“I need you now,” she breathed, and he said, “I know.” He leaned over her and opened the glove compartment, pulled out a condom and flipped the compartment closed. His arm brushed her breast as he moved back and forth and she moaned at the touch.

“Steady,” he said, and then a moment later he slid his hand down her back under her rear end, saying “Up.”

“What?” she asked, but leaned forward, still dizzy with lust, and he maneuvered around the stick shift to slide into the passenger seat under her, pulling her hips against his from behind.

“Wait a minute,” she said, and then she braced herself on the dashboard as his hands moved under her skirt to slip her underpants off and the heat of his hands on her thighs made her mute with need.

“You're the one who likes risk,” Nick said from behind her, but his voice was laughing not angry. She felt him push hard inside her and her body arched in blissful spasm, and then he shuddered and said, “Oh, God, Tess,” and she let her shoulders fall forward, trying to keep control and failing miserably.

Wait,
she wanted to say.
I don't like it this way. I can't see you. I can't touch you. I can't taste you. I can't do things. I can't—

But he had one hand under her sweater caressing her breast so gently she couldn't bear it, and the fingers of his other hand slid over her thigh and inside her and stroked in rhythm with his hips, and the heat kept blanking out her thoughts and she melted against him, forgetting why she didn't like it like this.

“Nick,” she breathed, and he put his mouth against her ear and said, “What?” and his breath was warm and she felt herself start to go and clung to sanity with all her willpower.

“I'm not doing anything,” she said, and it sounded weak even to her.

“For once, let me do it all,” Nick whispered. “Just this once.”

And she wanted to tell him she was a partner, a giver who was responsible for her own orgasm, but he felt so good and she couldn't speak anymore, anyway. Then she felt the hot chill start, and she moaned, knowing the spasms would come, and then just for an instant, with frightening clarity she realized she really didn't want to be responsible this time. She wanted it to be all him, and then she relaxed into the wave, letting her head sink slowly onto her hands on the dashboard as Nick rocked her into glorious oblivion over and over again.

“I
CAN'T BELIEVE
I let you do that,” she said later when they were curled up together in bed. “I hate it from behind.”

“You do not hate it from behind,” Nick said sleepily. “They heard you come in Kentucky.”

“This is scary,” Tess said. “I can't say no to you.”

“Tell me about it,” Nick said. “I got laid on a piano.”

“I'm serious,” Tess insisted. “This was supposed to be just two really good friends sharing a good time and great sex, and now I can't leave you.”

Nick kissed a curl back from her forehead. “It was always more than that,” he said. “You know it was always more than that.”

“I really love you,” Tess said, and his arms tightened around her and she shivered against him, grateful for his warmth.

“I love you, too,” Nick said. “I think we should get married.” She tensed in his arms, and he kissed her again until she relaxed. “Why not get married?” he whispered. “It's what we've got now.”

“I'm not sure what we've got now.” Tess shifted away a little. “I love you, I really love you, but living this way…I don't know. It's not me. I don't know.”

“It's all right.” He pulled her closer. “Just think about getting married. We can talk in the morning.”

She could feel his body relax as he drifted into sleep, feel the weight of his hand resting comfortingly on her hip, but it was almost dawn before she fell asleep, too.

Tess followed him down to breakfast the next morning, groggy from lack of sleep as he zipped around the kitchen, fixing himself toast and coffee and barking orders at her.

“Pick me up at the office at six,” he told her, spreading jam on his toast. “I've got a late meeting, so catch a cab there instead of waiting at home for me.”

“All right,” Tess said tiredly. “Who are we wining and dining tonight?”

“The Pattersons and Norbert Welch,” Nick said, and when Tess groaned he added, “Don't say anything about the papers at dinner. I'll suggest after-dinner drinks and then if Park agrees, we can talk to him. But no accusations, understand?” He pointed his toast at her to make his point before biting into it. “I want this contract, and we're about to get it. Don't screw it up.”

“I know, I know, you'll make partner,” Tess said, grumpy because she was so tired. “What I don't get is what difference can partner make? I mean, every single person we've been sucking up to for the past three weeks is crazy about you already. I don't see what partner is going to get you when Riverbend already thinks you're God in a three-piece suit.”

Nick stopped for a moment, as if he was going to answer her, but instead he said, “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me,” Tess leaned her head on one hand and yawned. “Give me one good reason why you need this.”

“Okay.” Nick hesitated again. “When I was eighteen,” he said finally, “I was accepted at Yale. My dad was really proud. He'd put aside a college fund for me, but it wouldn't even get me a year at Yale. But he said no problem, he'd work extra overtime at the plant, and if he had to, he could tap into his pension, and with my partial scholarship we'd be all right.”

“Sounds like a great guy,” Tess said, waking up a little at the serious tone in Nick's voice.

“Then right before Christmas that year, my senior year, he got laid off. And because of the way things were run at the plant, he lost his pension. Then, three months later, still out of work, he lost control of the car and he and my mom died.” Nick's voice had gone flat, and he finished his story with absolutely no expression. “He left nothing. Twenty-three years with the plant and he had nothing at the end. I still made it through. I'm okay. It's no big deal.” He set his jaw and looked grimmer than Tess had ever seen him. “But all that work, a lifetime of work, and then he had nothing. It killed him.” He met her eyes. “That's when I decided I was never going to work for anybody else. If I'm partner, I don't work for anybody else.”

“Oh,” Tess said.

Nick shook his head. “It's no big deal.”

“Right,” Tess said.

“Your toast popped. It's getting cold.”

“I'm sorry,” Tess said.

“No problem. Just put in a couple more slices.”

“Not about the toast. About your parents.”

“It happened twenty years ago, Tess,” Nick said. “It's done.” He got up to leave. “Don't go getting all weepy over it. I just want that security. For both of us. And for our kids. I don't want them ending up with nothing. So I am going to make partner, and nothing is going to get in my way.”

“Kids?” Tess said. But he just kissed her goodbye, his lips lingering on hers a little longer than usual. She buried her head in his shoulder and clutched at his suit coat. “I love you,” she whispered, and he said, “I know. I love you, too. Go back to bed. You're wiped out.”

She sat at the table for a long while after he left, thinking about Nick and Nick's dad and the partnership that now was an understandable need. She ached for the Nick-at-eighteen who'd had his whole world ripped out from under him, but she ached more for the Nick-at-thirty-eight who was missing his life while he made sure the world would never get ripped out from under him again. And she suddenly realized that it wasn't just that he loved her, but that he needed her. She was his only hope for a real life, a life he could start having once he got that damn partnership. Once he got the partnership, he'd relax, and they'd be all right. He'd feel secure and he'd stop trying to impress people and he'd stop trying to change her. She could get rid of those damn clothes, Jekyll would disappear, and they'd be all right.

For the first time, Tess thought about marrying Nick without cringing. They were so right together. The only thing that kept them apart was his quest for success, and once that was satisfied…
marriage,
she thought, and pictured them together in this house. If they were married, she could insist on some color. Then she could come home from her jobs at Decker and the Foundation to a bright house and Nick and…their kids.

Kids. A boy and a girl because Nick liked symmetry. No redheads. Two neat little brunettes, like Nick. She'd have to keep them away from the pool—unless they took swimming lessons at the country club. Of course they'd take swimming lessons at the country club. They were Nick's kids. And the suede couches would definitely have to go—unless she raised them to be incredibly tidy, like Nick. And incredibly well behaved, like Nick. And of course, they'd have to go to the right schools and wear the right clothes and probably play the Moby Dick game, and as Tess visualized them in school uniforms, she suddenly didn't like them much.

Boring little twits,
she thought. And then she thought,
Stop it.
It wouldn't be like that. Nick would change once he got the partnership.

Maybe.

It was too much to think about and she'd been thinking all night, anyway, so she went back upstairs and fell asleep and dreamed of dark-haired children who kept looking at her with contempt and saying, “Oh,
mother,
” and Nick coming home and announcing he was running for president so she'd have to get new clothes. She didn't wake up again until three, when Gina called her, hysterical, because she'd just read in the paper about Park's engagement.

“How could he be engaged?” Gina said through her tears when Tess reached her apartment. “He's been with me every night. How could he have gotten engaged to somebody else?”

“Oh, Gina,” Tess said, sinking onto Gina's moth-eaten couch and pulling her friend down with her. “Listen, honey, Park just…” She tried to think of a good way to put it, but the truth was that Park had been two-timing Gina all along and Tess hadn't done anything about it. “Park's a jerk,” she finished. “So am I. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

Gina pulled away. “You
knew?
”

“Nick told me not to get involved,” Tess said miserably. “And I thought it might work out. You were so happy and…Oh, hell, I screwed up. I'm sorry. If you never forgive me, I understand.”

“How long has he been seeing her?” Gina's eyes blazed at Tess. “How long?”

“I don't know,” Tess said. “From the way his father talked, they've known each other since birth.”

“He knew her before me?” Gina said. “So what was I? A fling? He knew all along that…” She stopped and swallowed. “And he didn't even tell me. He let me read it in the paper. Did he think I wouldn't care?”

“I don't know,” Tess said. “I don't know what either one of them thinks. Sometimes I think they don't see us at all. They just see what they want to. Maybe Park thinks you're only looking for a good time. Maybe Nick thinks I enjoy being the new Nancy Reagan. I don't know. I just want to kill both of them right now.”

Gina slumped back against the couch and picked up a pillow. It was a
Cats
T-shirt, plump with stuffing and sewn shut at the neck, sleeves and hem, and it looked oddly like a dismembered corpse as she hugged it.
That's what Park's going to look like when I get through with him,
Tess vowed, and then she concentrated on Gina. “Are you all right? Talk to me. What are you going to do?”

“I don't know,” Gina said into the neck of her stuffed T-shirt. “I don't know. I love him.”

Tess felt her whole body grow cold. “You are not going to see him again. Tell me you're not going to see him again. You wouldn't.”

Gina's lower lip trembled. “I don't know.”

“What do you mean, you don't know?” Tess stopped and tried to keep from shrieking. “He's getting married. What are you going to do? Be his understanding mistress? I know you're heavily into adapting your life to suit Park, but don't you think that's a little much?”