Just in Time (12 page)

“Quiet,” Faith said, trying not to laugh. “It
isn’t
. It’s not that nasty, and you know it.”

“Hmm,” Lelei said after Faith had finished. “So is this erotica for men, or erotica for women? Because in my experience, they’re two different things.”

Will stared at her. “And you know this how?”

“How do you think? You think mothers never have dirty thoughts? Or fathers, for that matter?”

He groaned. “I did not need to hear that. I think Whack-a-Mole is calling my name.”

Faith smiled, but answered Lelei. “For women, is my plan. That’s the bigger audience for real stories, for a storyline. We’re doing the website all in softer colors, softer focus, keeping the shots more suggestive than graphic. I’m hoping we’ll get more erotic romance than erotica, but it’s all an experiment. The pictures are turning out great, though. Right along those lines. I think we’ll get some good stories.”

Will snorted. “Good stories. Right. Is that really what women want? Some fella to tie them up and whip them?”

“Nobody is whipping anybody,” Faith said. “I told you.”

“Of course not,” Lelei said at the same time. “It’s fantasy, not reality. Do you think women can’t tell the difference?”

Will looked at her in surprise. “You read it? It doesn’t bother you, how unrealistic it is?”

“How wonderful is realism, though?” Lelei asked. “Real life is hard. Maybe it isn’t in New Zealand, but here where I live, real life is bad bosses and car trouble and wondering whether your baby can wear those shoes for another month, because your January gas bill is going to be way too high. What’s wrong with wanting to escape for a little while?”

“Doesn’t it set unrealistic expectations, though,” he asked, “of what your average bloke actually is?”

Faith answered that one. “Well, let’s see. What does a man think, if he reads some thriller about a guy who’s six-five and 250 pounds, going around the country righting wrongs and beating up six guys with one hand tied behind his back? Sleeping with the best-looking woman in town, who happens to be single, and just happens to be looking for a quick, no-strings hookup with a mysterious drifter? Does he imagine he’s that guy? No,” she answered for him as Lelei nodded emphatically across from her. “He knows he works in an office, and he really should hit the gym more often, and if one guy punched him
once
, he’d probably be in the hospital. But he enjoys reading about it anyway, doesn’t he? And somehow, because he’s not a total
idiot
, he’s able to discern that it isn’t his reality.”

“Although,” Lelei put in judiciously, “maybe if more men actually read those books, they might get some ideas, make a little more effort, and their ladies wouldn’t have to escape quite so much. Not speaking from personal experience,” she added hurriedly. “I’m all good there.”

“I’m not touching that,” Will said. “But is that what women actually want? Somebody to…hurt them? Push them? I’ve been going about this all wrong, then.”

“Of course not,” Lelei said, sounding a little exasperated now. “But the fantasy? Sure, it’s a filthy-rich dude who’s absolutely crazy about you, who can’t imagine anything better than spending all Saturday morning in bed making delicious love to you, no matter who’s playing in the bowl game. He might even come on pretty strong, because he’s so overwhelmed by how much he wants you. He can afford to make all your problems go away, and show you a really good time, too, and what’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, I guess,” Will said. “I agree with you, if I think about it. I’m a sportsman, after all. That’s why I have a job, to provide men with their fantasy escape. So they can watch me get bashed on the paddock, and live vicariously for a couple hours.”

“That’s what they do,” Faith said. “Isn’t it? They imagine that’s them, put themselves in your place.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But they don’t see what it’s really like to do it, all the grunt that goes into it. It’s a fantasy, like you said. But I have to laugh, you know, about the photos, about the fantasy. Can’t think about it too seriously, because if I did…” He ran a hand over his jaw and grimaced. “It’s harder than I thought it would be,” he admitted. “I don’t fancy having somebody else’s girlfriend on her hands and knees in front of me, or tied to my bed. I need to laugh about it, or I can’t do it.”

“Gretchen’s really pretty, though,” Faith said. “I’d think you’d enjoy that no matter what.”

“What, knowing that she’s thinking about somebody else to get through it? That she’s off with Quint in her mind? Nah, not so much.”

“Quentin,” she said reprovingly.

“Whatever. And is it just me, or does Quentin look a bit like a Labrador?”

Faith laughed, and Lelei was laughing, too, the brief tense moment forgotten. “She loves him,” Faith said. “And bite your tongue. That’s a Marine you’re talking about. She showed us a picture of her boyfriend at lunch yesterday,” she told Lelei. “And yes, he might be a little bit homely. But he’s a sergeant!”

“She told me he was the jealous type, too,” Will said. “That it was a good thing he didn’t know about the photos, or he’d probably shoot me. Good to know.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going back to New Zealand, then,” Lelei said. “Or are you?”

Solomon came back with the kids then, and they clambered up on the benches and drank thirstily, worn out from their enthusiastic whacking.

“Good talk?” Solomon asked.

“Tell you later,” Lelei said. “You’ll be interested. Call it pillow talk.”

“Oh?” He was looking interested right now.

“I am never, ever going out with the two of you again,” Will pronounced. “Geez. I’m embarrassed.”

“Really? By us? Man, baby, we’re doin’ good,” Solomon told his wife. “Embarrassing the porn star and all.”

“What’s a porn star, Daddy?” Sefina asked brightly.

“Never mind,” Solomon said hastily. “New subject.”

“I was just asking Will,” Lelei said, fighting a smile, “about going back to New Zealand. About if he was. About whether he’d heard.”

“I didn’t realize that was a question,” Faith managed to say. He wasn’t going back? Here he’d acted like he wanted to pursue something with her, but he couldn’t, because he was leaving. But he wasn’t leaving? Was it all a story, then?

Will glanced at her and seemed to read something in her face, because his hand came out to cover hers. “I wasn’t lying,” he told her gently. “I’m leaving.”

She nodded once, feeling dangerously close to tears, just like that.

Lelei was looking at her, but Solomon was frowning at Will. “You didn’t get an offer? I could’ve sworn—”

“Nah. I did. Least my agent did. And I said no. Part of the reason I’ve been here,” he told Faith. “To have a break, and to work out. But also to try out for the Outlaws, the new NFL franchise. For a kicking spot.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. “And they offered you one, but you said no?”

“I did. Call me a prima donna, but I have to matter more than that. My position, in rugby—I’m a first-five. A Number 10.”

“I know,” she said. “I looked it up.” And then could have kicked herself.

“I’ve spent my whole life directing the game,” he said. “And I found out, when it came down to it…” He ran a hand over his close-cut hair, looking a little sheepish. “That I can’t stand the idea of being a part-time actor, waiting on the sidelines for my chance to come on and do my bit. Sounds bad, I know, but there it is.”

“Why does it sound bad?” Faith asked.

“Tall poppy?” he suggested. “A bit stuck on myself?”

“That’s
stuck on yourself? I don’t think so.”

“Multi-million-dollar choice,” Solomon pointed out.

“Yeh,” Will said. “And that matters, and even so…the only choice for me. Besides…” He shrugged. “I just got back to En Zed, didn’t I. Spent a few years in Aussie,” he explained again to Faith. “And I wanted to go home. Must’ve been mad to think about leaving again, but then, at the time, I
was
a bit mad. I’ve come to my senses again, maybe. And I’m going home.”

Which was what he’d said all along. So why did she feel…bereft?

“Well,” Lelei said briskly, standing up with some difficulty and beginning to collect paper plates and cups. “Now that everybody’s ready to get good and sick, who wants to go on some bumper boats?”

“I do,” Will said. “Got to celebrate winning that five dollars from Faith, don’t I. Because who got a hole in one on the windmill? Me, that’s who. Me.”

It wasn’t so bad after all, doing the spanking shots. It was much, much worse.

You can do this
, Will told himself, standing in the toilet in Calvin’s studio a few days later.
Easy-peasy
.

He was meant to be changing into the charcoal-gray suit again, but instead, he was gripping the edges of the sink, staring himself in the eye, and having a serious attack of stage fright. Or an attack of rational thought, maybe.

He’d balked at the idea of spanking Gretchen from the beginning, but somehow, he’d let things get to this point, because he’d let Faith talk him into it.

She always sounded so reasonable, that was the problem. And he liked her too much. That might be the
real
problem.

“There’s no limit to the mad things a man will do for a woman’s sake,” his grandfather had always said, and Will had always thought,
Not me
. Well, he’d used to think that, before he’d met Faith. Now, he knew that as always, his grandfather had been right.

He’d taken her home after their miniature golf date. One of the silliest days he’d spent in a fair while, and one of the best. But one of the worst, too. He’d walked inside the building with her, said hello to Mrs. Johnson and waited while Faith chatted. And then he’d walked with her to her door, where the words, “Want to come over to my place for a bit?” had hovered on his lips.

“Thanks,” she’d said. “Fun day. See you Monday, at the shoot. Last week, huh?”

That had been the “worst” part.
Last week
. Because on Friday, he was leaving.

“Yeh.” He’d leaned down and kissed her cheek, his hand coming up to push her hair, loosened as always by the wind, back from her face. Had felt her lean into him, and had wanted so badly to keep kissing her.

“Still no? Or yes?” he’d murmured, his lips brushing over her forehead, his hand moving over her soft skin with a will of its own, tracing the curve of her cheek.

The sigh had been a warm breath against him. “Still no. Because…last week.”

“Yeh. Right.” He’d forced himself to step back, to say “See you then,” and to walk away. Knowing it was the right thing, even though, as always, it felt so completely wrong.

Now, he looked at the face in the mirror.
In or out
? This was the last episode. Time to choose.

He’d done a shower scene already this week, after all, wearing the tiniest Speedo, with Gretchen in a microscopic flesh-toned thong and nothing more.

“Of course, we won’t show bare breasts in any of the shots,” Calvin had assured the pair of them, although Gretchen hadn’t seemed fussed. “But we need to see all of her back. Arm bra works, too.”

Which wasn’t something Will had heard of, but he found out what it was. Hands—Gretchen’s own hands, fortunately. And then an arm, which was Will’s. The tattooed one, of course, his heavy forearm doing a perfectly adequate job of covering both of Gretchen’s pretty little breasts, his bicep flexed to the max as he’d hauled her up against him. He’d been desperately careful all the same not to crush her, after the first time, when she’d winced.

He’d done all that, so having her over his lap in a pair of pink cotton undies wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

Yes
. It would be just that bad. But he’d agreed to it, mad or not, so he slung the black tie around his neck and began to knot it, although he still thought it was stupid.

“Who would wear a tie to spank a woman?” he’d objected when Charlotte had handed him his wardrobe.

“Hemi would.” Faith had answered for her. “He’s very, very rich.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Will had said. “And I thought nothing was written yet.”

“Trust me,” Faith had said. “You can bet he’ll be rich. Which is why you’re wearing the tie.”

It was as if their cozy family time with Solomon and Lelei had never happened, because she’d been all business again ever since. He sighed.
In for a penny, in for a pound
. He got busy tying, and that was when he heard the unmistakable sound of somebody spewing.

His hands stilled as the retching went on, and then, when silence fell, he finished up, pulled the suit jacket off the hanger and shrugged into it. Maybe he’d be saved by the bug.

He went on out into the studio and submitted to some readjustment by Charlotte. She clucked over the dog’s breakfast he’d apparently made of the tie, unfastened it and re-did it, and was going over his jacket with a lint roller when the other toilet door opened and Gretchen came out in her robe. Her face was paler than ever, her eyes huge in her little heart-shaped face, and she looked fragile to the point of transparency.

Will stepped out of Charlotte’s grasp with a “Sorry. One minute,” and went across to Gretchen, putting a hand onto her arm to steady her, because she looked like she was about to pass out. “You OK?” he asked.